Floating Dust Poem by Leah Ayliffe

When the version of yourself
inside your head
speaks words more real
than the things you hold within your hands,

A lullaby wave drifts and scatters across the mind.
A love song, my soul undone, strings glimmering divine.

The voices won't rest their lips that move in the shadows,
the sounds cut through the skin
with a blade of anxiety and chaos
turning in a mist of confusion for happiness lost in a tunnel
where running cannot free you
and all that noise with their teeth chattering and their tongues rolling, won't settle.

All there is is the far away dream of the white place inside my head
that place of silence,
no,
an almost silence
with a soft humming of gold glitter forming the television satellite images of
floating angels in the diamond studded galaxy.

God.
drown me, drown me in peace.
I can't breathe.

But in the space of white I exhale the movies of palm trees and disco balls,
colourful hearts pounding with ecstasy
Where Audrey Hepburn sings Moon River in the same decade when we both loved hard and young.

twirling, twirling.
Spinning faster on the carousal that needs to reach the end of its cycle
soon.
before the fork runs away with the spoon.

Blue ribbons and ice skates across the sky
and time not really existing while we float like dust in the countryside
trying to admire the fresh air and pretty flowers
but the throat tightens with the allergy of overstaying our welcome in this paradigm
where the sunset is glamorous at the end of every day in pink paradise
and the dog barks for attention that I no longer have in me to give.
exhausted from a holiday that became too easy.
...
It is time. It it time for me to go.
Cause it is happening again where it's the voice inside my head that used to make sense, going a little crazy.
That the truth of who I want to be is dwindling towards insanity,
racing to get behind the fog
where white space and the lure of fairy glitter sing a sigh of a desperate relief.