Invisible Labyrinth

I’ll tell the story of what has been, of how I’ve changed shape and color and then changed again. Once small and golden, like the cast off eyelash of some heavenly being, I danced and dreamed to the sound of wind chimes and acoustic guitars, watching green spiders weave their webs while rainbow colored fish spoke to me through the invisible barrier separating their world from mine. Monsters with heads like black dandelions and snouts like those of Lord Ganesha leaped from closets moaning, dressed in bulky trench coats to teach me about the subjectivity of earthly experience when they removed their dark wine colored glasses to reveal smiling eyes.
My father was embodied in the question, the mystery, the fierce murmuring darkness, cultivating me in his image. Like rainbow colored candies I was coated in a hard sugary shell which concealed something prized by the Mayans, a food worthy of Godly consumption. As I moved through time like jelly forced through an abstract tube-like blown glass sculpture, I was made new around every bend. Once pale and bloated, as if fashioned from some bit of factory produced silicone byproduct, I longed to break through the glass and escape the life of the living dead. I was fed corpses and bathed in the rays of the cathode tube frequency control device worshiped by the popular culture. As they sprang from me, I held my offspring up to keep them from crawling in the mold and animal filth that closed in, squeezing tighter, and tighter…strangling, tighter…the life, tighter… that dwelt, and tighter…within it.
I was held suspended in time, ensnared in the sticky threads of fear. Only the burning will to speak to the creature standing behind the invisible barrier, allowed me to slash my way free.
Once beautiful and full of the color of autumn leaves, I blew along like a red tailed hawk riding the current, eyeing my quarry, and gingerly evading the pursuit of salivating foxes whilst enjoying their charm. I listened to the mad men, all sons of greater mad men, wearing lipstick and prosthetic noses, hats, long black coats, covered in beer spilled yesterday, and bits of dried leaves. I looked into the eyes of my immortal beloved and we walked beneath skies of snow flake obsidian until it swallowed us and we howled with one voice before we were spit out around the next bend. Once I cried and cried and watched the mold grow upon my flesh and along the window sills, while the blood spilled from me into the white hospital under the Christ’s agonized face. I met dark haired demons in the bed where I left my beloved and my tooth broke in my mouth so that I had to spit it into my hand and smile.
I cannot see the shape that I am in now, because I am still in it, in this temporal chamber. I cannot see time, it holds me and I squish through its length to other imagined scenarios, wondering what sleepy Deity rubbed her eye and cast me into this maze, striving to be whole again without breaking the glass and ending this journey. I struggle to see the glass, my rainbow tail undulating behind me like a banner in the wind. I train my ear to hear the unintelligible speech of the other, pressing her fingers against the imperceptible barrier, begging me to swim for her, to swim where she can never swim, in the tiny world assembled of the lost flecks of golden skin, eyelashes, and fingernail clippings, a realm which perhaps exists in the shadows under the bed where she lies dreaming, trying to tell me in the language of the unspeakable… remember me, remember me, and we shall swim, I in You and You in Me, into the darkest depths, where the father’s face is hidden.