That place inside

In the dreamstate, people come with a sword
they’re constantly trying to put down.
The dreamstate, the sword — these do constant battle
and split all the energy between them.
You’re tired, so the sword seems completely unfair,
and everyone runs to bury theirs in more dreams of every description.
It can’t be lost, but dulled — absolutely.
Around every corner is a fresh way of burying it.
No one should wake from the dreamstate, but a few people
get that itch, under the skin, where the falseness starts
to touch them. No one should feel this, it’s totally pointless,
but when they do, there’s nothing but take the sword
from its pillow or burying-place and see what it wants
to bite into. Maybe, you’ll start hacking at all the falseness
around you, that’s hot on your skin,’til one day
you notice that no sword gets sharper by fencing with shadows.
Then, maybe — it’s pure speculation — you see that the sword was waiting,
not cheerfully, not patiently, not even with any hope, but willing to wait forever,
for you to think of using it on the only place it could work,
that place inside that feels like living death to even look at, or think of.
And if you’re ever done with that work, maybe you’ll find a way
to put it down and also see, for fun, what was inside the onion.

– Blakita Nudibranch

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