Vision Poem by Amanda Lawson

i've seen a black hole swirling in the place where i sleep,
it's dark tendrils twisting towards the things that i love.
a massive shadow shell, no cat feet here.
it swallows tears, it bleeds bad intentions.
most of all, it is white-hot on the inside,
like the fire that burns in me near the middle.
it absorbs your darkness, dissolves all your guilt,
but it sacrifices my livelihood for slates wiped clean.
i would tell someone, but the flaming words from between my lips would leave nothing but ashes, and no one would hear them if they blew away in the wind.
you don't know my name, but i know all of your secrets...
only i'll never tell, because i don't know what to do with my hands.
it's getting fuzzy on the edges, but i can still feel my parts stitched shut.
-and then, it's my mouth that finally comes apart at the seams.
but you're safe.
do not worry.
they say that when i talk, it sounds like the ocean.

(2007)