Words by Vanessa Liao
Art by Des Ramjee
CW: Death, Conflict
in my dreams, water,
lapping along the concave
terracotta tiles of bathroom floors
where lights, streaking, blinding
and there i lay, skin to skin
like a mother’s homely touch of cold
yet warm blooded connection
with these same, overgrown stories
here my hands cannot
find a way to break free
of a force that holds them within
together they are crucified
stakes are high and lights,
a sickly shade of hospital white
but in contrast it’s not quite
drawing near the end of my life
gone are the likes of family tree roots
severed are the ties of crimes believed truth
for in our dreams the world is imaginable
there exists a sphere, unpainted –
waiting endlessly for a canvas of my memory
if distance and time are deal breakers
setting alight the library inside
my soul bleeds a shade of emerald green
gone are the days i slip within
the cracks between a vision of
ambition, a predicament, a pause
and shed what is left of me
from baby steps beyond my feet
to blazing halls that creak in death
i ponder when – and only when
leaves will shed and offspring grow
until tomorrow will i brush away these sighs
until then these whispers wash over my guise
