satellite socks

resisting evils, those alive and those that flatten life itself

satellite socks, stuck straight up and swinging at the moon. i’ve waved similarly before, and on repeat i begged for a reflection, but my socks are black and the threads are sticking out, winding into their own ambiguous shapes i can’t define. even if i tried, i couldn’t miss the ceiling when i stare, when i wave. it’s oceans enough crying past the forms i leave bare, swinging as satellites tailgating the ground, lost as the black in the sky, black on my socks, as similar enough as we could beg for.

i’ve begged for that reflection on repeat in time and all i’ve found is the space between, where the shapes read like a funhouse mirror, snapshots of life i’ve lived envious of. in the loneliest way, i’ve always been in love, never felt the absence of longing; in such an undeserving gasp it’s as if i forgot the presence that keeps me in the sky, albeit in part.

i’m losing you and i’m splitting the defense, ridding the mosquitos of cover. i’m five foot eleven, and in both my outstretched towers is all but the closest we’ve been to each other.

i’m chasing a satellite like chasing air, like chasing the concept of time, as such a simple similarity, polarity outlined, like for children, three feet and a lot more to climb. my socks are straight up, toes pointed for dismount, tread tailing out at the world record time. empty in layers, filling the room, i’m swinging the moon, begging for a sign.

acd

https://buymeacoffee.com/aidenorwhatever