Poetry from Brianna Dawn.

Welcome to your existential hell

If there is no beginning, there can’t be an end
Can we really justify “time” and define it within
A circle, does a “cycle” truly continue, considering
It’s constricted and confined into a shape our minds
Can imagine, but only within our feeble capacity,
Something we can fabricate to fit into
The wrinkly skin and salty water of our bodies,
This carbon-dating, can we really apply it to things
Outside of the cycle, the circle we know best,
I’ve never seen a person perfectly draw one
Or even five of them, less and less I understand
The shapes we draw to keep our minds from escaping
Leaking out into an organic asymmetrical thing,
Risking to absorb that peculiar, unsettling, spooky energy
So we just push ourselves to master geometry, basics
We can compute with our mind, but not going as far as to
Find things that couldn’t possibly be found when they
Are pretty much impossible to find, detect, they exist where our
Brains fail to perceive and comprehend a lack of existence
It fails to see the pattern of some energy that bleeds through the spaces
Of our sentences, grammar, images, taste, sight, and sound
You have no idea what it is I am talking about,
Neither do I, and is that really okay? To not understand
The shapes beyond our mind? That possibly co-exist
And run through us and hold us suspended in time or firmly rooted to the ground?
What if in fact those very things made us believe in time?
Or better yet, believe in our existence, and everything around ourselves?
Don’t think too hard or too deep, or the spider’s silk will be cut and
You’ll fall, sweating, and confused, into your existential hell

Poem from the Our Universe Is Dead Poetry Compilation by Brianna.

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