Solitary Confinement

An Original Poem

I think that solitary confinement is a good way to describe my life

Even when I’m around people, my isolation reigns strong

The thought of endless isolation is truly a tyrannical dictator, it won’t leave my brain

Maybe I was just meant to be alone, my soul was meant to be forsaken

I’m left with bitter memories that are clouded by the black fog in my subconscious

The fire of failure robbed me of my past... I’m all in parts and pieces now

I think I should go away, finally accept my surrender into eternal slumber

My mind is a ghost town, it’s been desolate for awhile now...

I think I should let my soul go free, let my senses drip away like hot candle wax

I think I’m getting bad again, I don’t recognize my reflection

Sometimes I feel like my brain isn’t even there

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in the quicksand of unforgiving thoughts

Nobody understands... so I’m okay in my solitary confinement.

I’m okay, I’m used to making friends with the shadows on the walls and talking to myself in the dark

Solitary confinement is my fate... my destiny...

If we are loyal to people who don't have us claimed, maybe they shouldn't be the ones to be blamed?

I get asked why I have up so many fences, but I had to come up with my own defenses.

excerpt from “etymology of a name”

Glorfindel's Lament

Did I know I was going to die, that day?

Perhaps part of me knew, quietly

A slice of foreknowing, a cold sting

You know, really, what happens

Don't hope too strongly for this

Focus on the people. Save our people.

We arrived at the Great Market

Holding off fetid-mouthed Orcs

Snarling over our white streets

But we became stranded there

An island of strong golden flowers

In a sea of feral forces, closing in

Smaller and smaller we became

And then a fire-drake slid in

Hissing with flame and blood-lust

Reaching and poisoning, felling us

One by one, like floating petals falling

And we died, our flowers wilting in flame

We had to retreat, back to the King

And onward we fled through smoke

And tainted streets, but dragon behind

And pained screams ahead, closing in

The Harp! Black emblazoned silver

Courage blazing in face and heart

Called to us and aided weary arm

Taking the dragon by surprise

They drove him back to the Market

And there they all fell, hopelessly

Tarnished by flame and poison smoke

O, the Harp! We could not save you.

The King in his courtyard needs us

So I gather my people to find him

I spy the Wing and the Fountain

Leaning hard in wounded pain

And Egalmoth arrives in light

Shining bright and strong

Bringing a crowd of wains

With women grim and strong

Ready to find the Secret Way

The way out of our beloved city

O Gondolin! We could not save you.

A dragon bursts out in rage

From the sweet Alley of Roses

And behind him frames a legion

Of Orcs and fell beasts of flame

And we stand, we are ready

But my men are fatigued and swaying

And I feel again the foreshadowing

This is the end. Of everything

But Ecthelion of the Fountain

Shining helmet in strong hand

Bids us a fierce farewell

And turns to face the Balrog

Gothmog stands with dark fire

In victorious anticipation

"Flee, Tuor! Save Earendil and tell him

Tell him to remember his friend"

And flies at the Lord of Balrogs

To save his friends. Save our city.

O House of the Fountain!

But we could not save you.

We turn, keening in bitter grief

As we flee to the Secret Way

And abandon our torn city

O Gondolin! We could not save you.

My heart turns to my brothers

Dark in smoke and deep in water

And my heart blanches and stops

My grief cannot find a way out.

I must just save my people.

My mantra echoes. Save my people.

I follow the Wing, but we are ebbing low

Our fatigue drags us down and we weep

As we push through heavy dark doors

And into silence and dank stone

Down, through endless turning stair

And dark passage ever narrowing

Into the quiet womb of the earth

Silence stills to the thudding heart

And our tears falling relentlessly

Where are my people, buried so deep?

Will this be our tomb, under Gondolin?

Let me save my people, I beg silently.

But we reach light and fresh cold air

Climbing again a dark, winding stair

Cut into the unforgiving cold mountain

My foreboding returns again

And my heart gives away its hope

Even as our precious refugees

Begin to stir and look and wake

Death lies resolute on Cristhorn

And it waits for us silently

Orc swords ring and flame flash

Races screaming into the open

As an orc ambush finds us

And we are now so spent.

But rage blind fills my sight

And I become as a Beserker

Sword flashing and flying fast

Like a sentient being in my hand

And the Balrog leaps high

Watching me follow in rage

And clash we did in steel and flame

Amidst a stark still audience

Pale faced and grey under the Moon

As he swings desperately

I ripped his arm, while whip curled

From his heaving body and he feared

As he looked and saw Death in my eye

And I looked and saw my death in his

By left I sought feebly for my blade

Short and sharp was my dirk

As we grappled fruitlessly on the edge

And I thrust it into black blood bubbling

Deep, into his burning dark skin

My blade rippling in front of my face

So tall was he, spanning two of me

But his scream ripped out shrilly

And he fell back, in his dying pose

Then his hand remaining clutches

And entwines itself in my golden hair

And pulls me into a lovers embrace

Yet a deadly one, as we spiral into blue

And so this is my end, I muse

I saved my people and they can go on

The wind rips past me furiously

And the ground pulls nearer

I call to Manwë, Lord of the Breath

"Save my people, old friend," I breathe

"Bring them home, they suffered enough"

I feel a cool whisper on my face

A phantom caress, as I close my eyes

And my last life shivers away from me

As I heave a last hitched breath

Farewell, my fair Gondolin.

I start to float, and I see slowly

A small boy clutching my hand

Flowers blossoming languidly

And eagles lifting my broken body

And people, my people, gathering

Bringing keepsakes and treasures

To stow in my cairn with me

Flowers, and amulets and smooth stones

Laid with care and sorrow and blessing

And then the cairn is laid so gently

For golden flower to grow there

A splash of colour in grey Mountain

As they remember and mourn

Those who saved their city

The people of fair Gondolin.

I want to dig in your collarbones and live in your flesh.

Maybe, then, I could know who you are.

Tell me your skinned knee sob stories and how

your mom still speaks french.

Bite your nails at me and drink your silly liquor.

Your identity isn’t cross-country car trunks and motel drunks.

I want you to open your ribs and

eat at your hurt.

You told me about the board games

but I am so greedy,

Thirsty for heirlooms of european backyards

and homecoming royalty.

I talk so much, eager to let you be close

to my emotions.

Let me into your past and understand how

your dimples are truly indented.

how could i possibly close up? how can i twin your flame and lick away futures of our bodies clinging together.

slowly but surely you are

bringing me into your life.

into your chores and

bathroom mirror glances and

photographs.

i am perpetuating your lonely life and

adding my heavy and

my hurt.

french moms brush your hair and your father will drive into the suburbs

singing your favorite songs.

soon i will be a bullet point on the

list of family members,

blood and time.

Let me open up the mountains,

they ( & the desert ) can sing for your new life.

-

past & present by aurora tyler (2021).

blonde haired girlfriend by aurora tyler (2021).

I just —- ahahahaiaihsvsnshgghhuugshhauaua.

Okay I’m done.

on nights like this,

i wake up.

i glance at the empty space

at the other corner of my bed.

i picture your hands

wrapped around my waist.

your breath,

the warmth against my neck.

but then the memory fades away.

gone.

just like you.

a.r.

a set of small desires

For a moment I slipped into it / the make believe realm / where the world wasn’t too much for me / where I didn’t feel the burden of my emotions / they floated just like me / up up and away.

Oh I want somebody to love me as who I am when I'm reading a book

Its not too much to ask for, is it really? For someone to fall in love with me the way I sniff the book before I even begin reading it; devouring the beautiful smell that has travelled through so many hearts and hands before finally making its way to mine, the way I spend my time touching and tracing my fingers over as if to establish a connection before I begin on this impalpable journey to exist in somebody else's life, the way I spend too much time reading the introduction and analysing the index as if I could almost peep through the author's mind into what made him write it, the way I take a deep breath before beginning on to the first chapter;the way I proceed to become an entirely different human by the end of the book; acquiring experiences and living as somebody else, the way I squint my eyes and close the book for a second when the character does something embarassing, the way I laugh along the joys brought in their lives, the way I re-read sentences that make sense to just me, to just me. Most importantly, I want that someone, MY SOMEONE, to come, hold me in his arms when my eyes well up and I shatter into a million pieces as the author chooses to cease the life of somebody that existed in a manner too real to me. I want that someone, to just comfort me in the endless silence between us, as I choose to sob to convey my emotions, not having to explain the cause of my tears, not having to explain anything, not having any void between us to erase and try to weave strands of words to make any sense, because some things, just don't.

And if not, maybe I would ask life to give me a chance, of being that someone, to someone, and maybe loving him as who he is, while he reads a book.