Levitate At Night

Poem

Feeling washed up, waking up to another dark day.
Bright nights still playing in my heart and I can’t shake
the feeling that I’m not the same upstart to partake
in rough parks, playing puff, puff, pass with class mates.
Can’t recall the part where the path changed,
where the vibrant streets became sparse lanes.
Friends disappear, left here, I can’t change.
Figure in the mist, figuring he missed the last train.
It’s drizzling, I drift through a vacant space where I’m
dry enough to crush up what I take to fade the time.
Sometimes it’s in tablet form, sometimes it’s crystalline.
Once that little habit forms it warps and twists your spine
until you’re way too misaligned to ever miss a line.
Narrative is slipping to where things are undefined.
I need to gather thoughts in this ever spinning mind
before I wake up with another splitting head that isn’t mine.

I’m…                                                                         fine.
I’m…                                                                         fine.
I’m…

Fractured. Inhuman. Nervous. Enchained.
Faithless. Impulsive. Neurotic. Enslaved.
Feverishly insecure. Nothing is embraced.
Frailty, inertia and nausea entwine…

I’m…                                                                         fine.
I’m…                                                                         fine.

Everyone’s ascending as the elements ignite.
Sentience is bending and is blending into white.
The trendies are pretending and will never see the light
as it emanates with energy and penetrates the night.
Within me is confliction, but I can’t give up the fight
against the fictionally depicted gimmick imagery of life.
I’m generating hype in this never ending plight,
in a plea to reach the summit, but know something isn’t right.
I love it, but I plummet to the granite like a kite.
Tangled and not managing to land in from a height.
Languishing in anguish, way too damaged to alight.
Dangling, I hang between this planet and the sky,
with nothing left except an empty memory of flight.
I regulate my medication – never get it right.
Fed up of what they’re peddling, it meddles with my sight.
I want to try to meditate to levitate at night.

Emanate with light.
Celebrate the skies.
Elevate, be featherweight
and levitate at night.

more by LUCAS HOWARD

photograph by Allef V.

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Lucas Howard

When I was seven I started copying poems out of a book and telling people they were mine. When I ran out of good ones to copy, I had to start writing my own. I have been performing and organising nights on the UK spoken word scene now for over seven years and am most of the way through writing the first draft of my first novel 'Zedlist', which is serialised on here. As the story is in fetal form, any critiques or suggestions are most welcome.

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