Opacity (DDLC Poem Book Contribution)

Opacity
...
Mind to matter, finger to key, letters to words:
Even as I prepare to type—I hesitate.
Below the regimented heading stretches a yawning expanse of white,
Tinged with the weary expectancy borne by a thousand trials past.
Still, ephemeral needles dart through the focal of idea and action,
Eager to weave. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be.
...
Fingers gaily waltz across the keyboard, bars of checkered ivory
Striking gossamer threads, thrumming with silvery sound.
Alas, hammers thrash a misplaced chord:
Dissonance amplified by thousands.
As the staff unravels in dreadful cacophony, blotches of gibberish bleed on the page,
Begging for deliverance with anguished cries.
...
The smudged inkblots dissolve, the flickering cursor
Swiftly felling them without a trace of pity.
The doldrums stare back at me, while phantasms of what stood before
Insidiously whisper I have no other way:
Lest I cement my part on the world’s stage of speech;
A tongue-tied freak to be gawked at, agape and grotesque.
...
My eyes squeeze shut to the coalescing vision, blind to the gloom and murk of a cave.
My hand scrabbles across stone, desperate to grasp something.
My jawline strains against sewn lips, weeping as the barbs dig into flesh,
Blood welling inside where my tongue once was.
Incoherent phrases throb palpably inside my brain,
As wraiths hungrily approach, for this shame is their feast.
…
I raggedly exhale, and examine my empty hand.
Barely callused, a thousand faint creases overlapping worn ligaments.
Tendons stretch, rupturing fissures within the palm
Before fastening into knuckles, nails digging into soft flesh.
A pleasant tautness.
I close my eyes once more, yearning for serenity.
…
From the center of a verdant clearing, the dewfall ripples a surface of glass.
Orchestras of chroma spring forth, with vibrant, beautiful colors.
Valleys of sound dip from stoic silence to wondrous proclamation.
Words are traded in commerce above,
Numbers are mined in the depths below,
Its majesty draws me closer, but I cannot hide here for long.
…
I open my eyes to a curious sight,
For what was once bare is now filled to the brim.
Despite the bands of sun having waned to dark, I tick away;
Relishing the neat, dark limbs peppering the page,
Finishing up, with still much left to say.
Will it suffice for the time being? Will they understand one day?
…
Perhaps.