The Open Heart

A being is convinced it can not be loved or known, until it hears a knock.
Photo by Lujia Zhang


There was no moment, before I came to. 

In darkness I lived, but I could see through. An inherited home required my attention with the same vigour that a mountain thirsts for water. A desperation that runs so deep I do not know where it seeps. It is the only belief I know. I cannot disguise my apprehension to all that grows, while staying below. 

I am held here. My captor created ripples, penetrating my drooping skin, pushing my bolts and tightening my screws until all I can withstand is the silence that allows me to whisper within. It is the only thing I hold.  I am tied to this deathly song like the locket of a lover who has moved on. I wait in a tomb. The vibrations of yesterday do not waver in their murmur. I am alone. 






The grace that purifies all that lives does not come to my form. My shape must contort. Allow air to disrobe what is already fractured, hanging in the breathless void.

Screeching vapours of dense gas encroached my mouth, releasing a portrait of mist that circulated my anatomy: leaving me within, the insane daze of passing days.




I am a being unseen. Scaly and brutish, I am an assortment of treasures. A beast in disguise from its own eyes, for the form in which I reside weeps, when I reveal my mind. 

The being that wakes has no voice. I have no choice in my understanding. A listening booth is what I tried to compose. I want to hear what will allow me to leave this prison.



 Alas I find myself within a maze of encroaching dimensions that leaves everything I desire without intention. Destiny leaves much to be admired. I was promised a loving space; yet remain rooted in sinking matter. What I grow, decays before budding, like its creator. Failing to prosper in the material realm. I have nothing left.

I know myself within these walls. My faith is as ridiculous as a dying sunset; a conjuring of thought that cannot be accessed in time.

I reside inside.

The darkness is where I grow, where I wake, and where I play. I create feasts of my dismay, to devour. They settle in my stomach creating bubbles that destroy me vigorously.

I cannot flourish in a waking state.

I am a slave to the haunted. 


My gate is my throne. 

A castle composed of fractures and spirals, adorned atop the humblest of bones. I envision silky ribbons of pastel coloured light beaming into my soul and cracking my shell. A dance that disrupts all I have ever been. Allowing me to germinate expressive ceremonies that originate from within me. I imagine that this is what it feels like to be free. 


I am an intrusion; a being that colluded with time and space in order to wake. This was my first mistake. 

To open my door would be to let the world know that in here, there is a being that roams.

I will make no noise.

Imagined dream states invade my coffin.

I allow them to drape my surface like soliloquy’s said between young lovers on the brink of spring, an enslaving sensual delirium as potent as cherry blossoms.


To leave this castle of bones is to perish. Violating energies creating calamities of youthful proportions are the smallest fears I face. Long corridors and solitary gateways wait for the being that decides to emerge.


I found my disguise.

 I anointed myself an everlasting fear and cast a spell that meant I would forever be caged in here. Alongside a bewilderment of beliefs, a fountain of mould as vast as land and sea and a view of a mountain, I would never reach. Everything flourishes except thee. I did not want to be a beast, but it was all I found in my chamber of mirrors.     


I sit waiting. Fading into forgotten shadows, riddled with options. I find treasures in every direction and eat them like a beast, nourished by their multiplicity. I settle into the seed of forgotten needs and let myself be taken by what I cannot see. It feeds the darkness of my torrid tongue and I hear the ghouls sing their marching song.

I am a slave to the haunted. 


I imagine breaking through the dents in my back, to smoothen my core. Composing sounds of flowing waters submerge me gracefully. My form becomes unhinged; leaving me with buckets of my own exposed ruin. Embraced by my deepest roots. Nourished by the voice that does not speak, but vibrates in every action.

A second is forever in the galaxy of the heart so I need not know, how long I wondered in the dark. 


A noise came to my door.

I stayed silent as long as I could, but the knocking did not cease. The smell of my dreams was now my reality. It was patient. It played on my door like a petal on the breeze. Wafting the air, creating need.  I was sure my castle could not be found, a spiralling staircase set upon decomposing ground. A valley of quicksand to suck all those who dare approach, and a stream of miniature bones adorned my throne.

Yet I hear a knock. 

I came to, speaking in a voice unknown to thee. There is no need to speak when you understand yourself with a deathly serenity. Words are but tools, reserved for earthly beasts.

My voice trembled as I opened my mouth; my lips were tight as my tongue hugged my check with a wrestlers grip. I uttered,  

“Leave or say what you desire for I cannot help with what you require.”

Stillness appears, making me quiver in my steps. This form and I had a strange connection.

This being did not speak.

I waited. I shall not open my gate or say another thing. I am in pain; darkness escapes my veins. It is a dangerous tempest. 

I feel dynamic in its presence. 

This foreign brute hurts my life for I am sensitive to all those without disguise. I must protect myself. I must hide.

Knowing I’m not alone bruises me. It is vibrating below the ground. A dense shudder. I swayed under its grace. Could it feel my infested soul?  

It was grinding into my back like a digger; I hurled myself to the ground. Silently praying that mercy would be given to thee.


Eternity passed in our trembling forms. This moment did not exist in time, but rather in the pains of what scurried behind my unconscious eyes.

Primordial darkness stood between us.  


Its voice did not vibrate on this earth.


“I am ‘I’. You have the wrong place. I am that which bleeds without demise. I feel but cannot describe.”

I am an eternal sigh that gains no rest.


It must be a trick. I feel weak and scared to know: what makes this being.

How can it be assured in a land so strange?

This ground is mine.  

The being has stayed too long. Its nearness is disturbing my temporal song. 

The being wants to join me; I felt it in my bones. 

Does it not know that I wish to be left alone? 


I feel weak and deranged.

I have nowhere to hide. I shall not speak. I do not want to satisfy the thirst of this form. This being does not want ‘I’ but another earthly disguise. It is the swarm of desert loci that engage the green plain; skipping over the riverbeds, they feast for another day.



This being feels like the energy that surrounded the seed before the initial bloom. 

Its presence has me lost in an infinite loop of curious rooms.


I put my back to the door. My flesh and form cannot bear this weight. I am in need. I want this being close to me. In ways that make me shudder, I am in need of deliverance. I am in longing. I want to be touched by the tides of this form like the infectious waves of the ocean; I am the patient ever-changing rock.


I have no touch for what is strange. I can see no colour, other than the one that surrounds my earthly wake. Yet I want this being. It consumes me.


With a rush of tortured winds, doubt begins to sing. I am being dragged to the brink; I am face to face with my gate. Venerability has a face, an abyss with no mist. My hands wont leave my side. I want another disguise, a place where I no longer hide.

My mouth gapes wide, as my skin spreads. A conversational void between my fear and my suspicious soul emerges. It enables me to breathe.

What a funny feeling. Air caresses my side as swirls of lightning lift my temporal mind. My doubt swims from behind my eyes. For the first time since my birth, I have another feeling.

 I am split. I am turning. Rising to a new sensation that creates a cosmos of possibilities.

I feel you, deeply.

Coloured lights skim along, polished floors that stretch beyond view. I am a mountain, surrounded by energies that lack disguise. Swans of vapours electrify and purify all I hold dear. They leave me naked and scorned. In shame and fear, I contort. Laying my head in my wounds, I create memory walls to hear the sounds of what I loved once before. Their vibrations are burning me, like the glare of a volcanic storm; I am born in the fire of its call.

I am face to face with a sound, which lives presently now. A birthing rage fills its form, it slithers to my ear, and with reverberating scream – it whispers


A wolfish smile stills me. Twittering tingles play along my exposed vertebrates. Magnetic murmurs push me to the edge. I need, I want, to have this being within.

It whispers into my ear, its mouth plays along my bolts and screws. My senses are filled with an ethereal scent. Purple in shape, blue in space, yellow in heart, green in pulse, red in odour- it delights me into submission. Unwinding my form, I unlock, unblock and breath, its youth. I am a dark panther crossing prisms of 3-dimensional bridges. Within my minds eyes, I understand the root of my disguise.

I am transforming. My fears turn into a desert haze, as my dreams become riverbeds that constantly grow to create.

As I unwind, opaque winter clouds emerge from my scales.

I dive into my darkest wells and unlock all the monsters that I feed.

 I belong, to what I cannot see. I am filled with a delicious glee. I want this being and I can feel it wants me.

I feel unworthy, dirty with the sin of wasted time. I close my eyes and open the gate.

There is no visible sight, only my blistering disguise.

I see my form. A weltering violet in a compassionate hurricane, I grow roots like a tree.

A conversation between reality and mystery play along my sides- foraging my mind, I am no longer a prisoner to what kept me inside. My chains slip from my form and I remember that it was I who locked the door.

I wish to hear the voice once more. A confirming call that it was not in my mind.

A thunderous vibration tells me I am not alone; I do not fall, I am not afraid. I am awake, a sensation that is as unfamiliar as the path ahead.

I feel my essence in the breeze, desiring to hear what I seek; yet I hear only the expanding space within me. Silence emerges.  My heart races with anticipation, I will live to hear their voice once more.

I feel my home expanding, rooms unravelling, doors opening, feelings growing. I do not see the being but feel it sliver along my bones, telling me to grow. I close my gate and face the familiarity of the unknown.  

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