Painting in the Dark

A mirage of recognition in a sea of unrecognisable faces. Who is a friend, who then is not? A lie of a smile that I can’t perceive. Who is a sister, who then is not? A ghost of a whisper shivering past my neck. Who is a lover, who then is not?

Don’t seek perceptions, darling. Life offers none.

Darling. Another word. A bottomless word at that.

What would you rather have me say, then?

Silence. Let me breathe into it. Silence. Your words fill the voids that I have begun to love and own. I walked past a shadow of a dream. I lie. The shadow burned through my mind like a dagger dripping blood. Where do I draw the line then, what then is life, what then is a dream?

Oh darling, brush the hair away from your eyes. They will blind you.

No. They are loved. They will not blind.

What then is that light?

The absence of life. The screaming of a noise I can’t hear. Darkness pours down like rain. I cannot see past the drum roll. The rain hurries past the burning shadow of a dream.

Stop your pish posh, darling.

Swing abruptly away, towards her, brush dripping with the colour of rain. Do not dull my perceptions with your mindless chatter.

Oh get over yourself, sweetheart.

The rain continues to hammer past all that I can see. Step away from the light. Brush sways unwillingly into shape.

What are you doing there darling?

Nothing that mindlessness can perceive.

Oh nonsense, love. I'm sure it's not stupid.

The Rain drowns out the noise. The brush stutters. My mind struggles to form the words. What should the words say? They laugh into the void near me. Cutting into my mind. I cannot see.

Brush the hair out of your eyes, darling. They’ll blind you.

They won't. They are loved. The brush trembles with shuddering gasp. 

The rain is my darkness.