Yet Another August Poem? – A (Prose) Poem

August is making me oscillate between soft glints of sunlight and dark pits of consternation. I sit in class and try to jot down words, but I feel myself descend into a labyrinth of little and grotesque forests in my mind. Heavy trees, whose seeds were sown long before I was born. The green is dark and brown. Barefoot, I walk and let the sharp grass cut my toes and then let the wetness soothe the wound. I pluck some leaves to read my sower's prophecy, and all I see is patterns. Pathless and meaningless patterns. I look up and the sky is getting eaten by all the green. The thick veins of trees erupt from the depths of the soil to stem around my feet. I keep dragging my body across the muddy and damp floor. The air is laden with age-old trauma and archaic affinity. I sit up and wipe some mud to discover a brand on the back of my palm. Skin is seared to mark the bloodline. I lay on the ground and let the soil swamp over me. I struggled with my breathing and, unlike a common human instinct to throw my hands and legs up in the air, my fingers traced the iron mark, my fingertips trying to decipher the fate of its body. Is it a besmirched death or a glory depart to meet my sower?

- Oizys.

August – A Poem

A nauseating wind hits my face.
Followed by an ill-omened cloudburst
I sit clutching the fingers of one hand.
Strangling my toes with twitches
Trees turning a deep green.
Also, potholes with mud
I take out my phone only to flood the screen.
And blot it on my jeans.
And I imagine myself in someone else's life.
As someone else's rider
As the lane approached
A wave of bile bestired in my mind.
Anxiety erupted like this.
I look at the date.
The first day of August
And I lament the past few months.
I see myself approaching my dwelling.
And I imagine myself in someone else's life.
As someone else's pupil
I knock on the gates and the door to misfortune hails me.
Takes my baggage
She lovingly strokes the bad luck as she wipes the raindrops.
Only to let him lunge and bellow at me.
Shutting off my valve of defense
Barring my lips of vindication
I wail in desperation battling with my words of demurral
And I imagine myself in someone else's life.
As someone else's daughter.
I run as I scream at his profoundly deaf anger.
I separate myself from my being.
I scratch my skin and clamp my eyes shut.
Mulish tears salt my wounded mouth.
I beat myself with shuckling
As I imagine myself in someone else's death
As someone else's misfortune.

- Oizys.

{A structurally inconsistent and irregular ode to my wistful thinking. A woebegone August, lamenting the end of my life's summer at the lack of lambency. I wish I could write down the address of this snakebit's origin. But, I am scared. I am scared that if I write it, I will be banished. My heart will be vagrant. And, as a result of my fugitivity from his tumult, I will forever bear the label of scapegoat. Oh August, the new beginning of an old wound. The new branch from rotten fruit. I stew in this rumination as I imagine myself in someone else's perception, as someone else's loved one.}