you hold no title

you asked me to master a new form of art,
but the best I could do was to decipher the
act of bioluminescence; the actual emission
of light by living organisms.

simply cremating what I had left within me
emotions stratifying themselves to different
forms, but not those of art.

eyes fail to recognize when to blink, they
flutter, fighting to capture a solid image
so you tell me to keep them closed and
a world will transform itself within my
brain.

fear crawl to my fingertips, so I lose touch

I gravitate towards the subsurface, the place
where light can’t seem to preach not even
through symbiosis with those tiny creatures.

again, you come out of the closet this time in my
own clothes, in my favorite hoodie with its hood
on your head, mumbling and humming to my
favorite song.

you asked to master a new form of art,
but what you were pleading for your
release.