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vision of the future

Poetry, Audrey Nguyen



stretched out in the air, the smoke is aware of me

but i am unsure... ...and unrendered

my future remains a teenage girl

performative and capricious

something to fixate on but never understood

a spectacle wrapped in curtains

maybe parafilm

maybe my back, leaf skin and sliced

a flower that only blooms behind 

closed eyes

when my boss says she’s paranoid i don’t doubt her

stare at something for too long and it will start 

to stain the walls until you can’t believe your eyes

and have to close them to feel

less haunted

like sleeping, like dreaming

a lot happens during unconsciousness

       reset to functionality and

the silent predictions and

           the omens

mind alive only when blinded

but erased when you wake

nobody likes surveillance

nothing natural happens when observed

even light

its split behaviors dance for the instruments

still we persist (anxiously)

the suspense of what's to come is shyly killing time

and we are holding the knife

face up to the ceiling for a vision of something 

we just can’t see through

the smoke on my eyes is makeup and

maybe our control attempts are inherently flawed

we don’t see the point because we keep looking at/for it

maybe it changes colors when we look away


 

Audrey Nguyen is a writer, poet, and versatile creative presently based in Canada. As a current PhD candidate in Biochemistry, she enjoys finding the artistic in science, and the scientific in art. Her poetry is often philosophical and instinctive, exploring themes of identity, loss, and turbulence in navigating the modern, internet-based world, with a dash of her life science background here and there. She feels intensely, and writes intensely to make people feel. Find Audrey on Instagram at @au.noia


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