Nothing with any Certainty

“i know nothing with any certainty,
but the sight of stars makes me dream.
--vincent van gogh

lying back in carpets of grass
drowning in the night sky
pools of blackness and neon puddles
engulf me suspend me protect me
FIELD CLOSED
and my feet don’t seem to mind
i trail the blades of grass
sharp lines between my toes
sharp cuts into my thoughts
the moon refuses to show her face tonight
perhaps she knows i shine enough for both of us
or she is a captive of the same manipulative thoughts
that hold my words for ransom
until i wrap them in suitcases of skin and bones
offering them as ultimate sacrifices
to the ghosts that drift the corridors of the mind
still moments such as these
with the languid breeze
licking my wounds soothing my skin hiding my scars
my skin doesn’t feel unknown to me
the ghosts don’t scream and beckon for payment
with the damp grass at my back
i do not worry of what must be offered next
to appease these abductors of thought
the neon puddles shine unwavering
there is no baggage for me to carry
tonight--EAC