…Flights of Fantasy (VI) Found you, now you go…

Buried, surrendered. I found something not unlike silence.
Outsourced, over-encumbered. I gave it my name.

Something peculiar happened.
Silence permitted the following utterance.

So… you’re the oxygen thief.

Buried, rigid– torn asunder. I found something not-at-all like laughter.
On reflection, they sounded much the same. Perhaps– perhaps then it had been laughter.

Something remarkable had happened.
I’d named my silence, and found exuberance. It existed.

So… who’s laughing now.

Bemused. Besmirked. Soothed. I found something one might call smugness.
All in all, it matters not how I’m found.

Something strange will always have already happened.
How can I possibly fill it back up now.

Really, I quite like name. I suspect I’ll keep it.

yours indefinitely,

the oxygen thief 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s