194: Stagnant Circle

We rise at dawn with fury in our eyes, dreams still burning bright within our hearts and minds, muscles tensing as we prepare to take on the world. But when we open our curtains and look outside, all we see is a flat blue that goes on and on into infinity, no rotting wood or dead grass for our fire to seize, just water, endless water, in rolling waves like ripples in a teacup after the bag has been removed. Sitting too long, it has left a bitter taste that clings to the back of our throats so far down that we can't clean it out when we brush our teeth and we gag and drink coffee and wine and we smoke and by the time the day has passed and we go to bed once more it's still there, still clinging, like the ghost of a ghost that we think we have buried but night comes and it rises, rises, reaches, claws its way through our systems and rips at our dreams until they burn and the fire rages within us and razes the ghost, leaving nothing but ashes on barren ground as the phoenix rises and spreads it wings and we see clearly. Our alarm rings and the cycle starts again.

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Written by: Katrine Hjulstad

Instagram: @katrinehjulstad

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Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.