Of shipwreck's at a journey's end
by malo gledhill
In search of Atlantis, I got lost in the metro. Faces around me,
sunken vestiges of beauty long gone... I stare at the window-
pane, the reflection of the scene we’ve constructed is much
more bearable than the real thing. The rocking of the wagon
makes our skulls bob. We look like lethargic rowers, bringing
shame upon Neptune’s name. We Drift. Deeper into the tunnel, The density of obscurity intensifies; Pressure amplified; bodies
pressed down to the ground; flesh liquefied; bones shattering
into a million specks of sand; veins turned algae green; ribs
Collapsing. I scratch the unbearable itch on my neck and my fingers
plunge into my gills, my nails digging into its capillaries. I try to scream. Bubbles erupt instead, robbing me of my right
to share the horror of being 20,000 leagues underwater.
Light. Mesmerizing, beguiling solace in a dominion where the sun is
no ruler. I approach you. Venerable source of human
potential, I swim closer. Only to find that you tricked me. And
the unclenched jaw of an ancient anglerfish devours me
whole. Engulfed in a Paleogenic monstrosity, I dive back in
Time. Bioluminescent matter devoid of life, filled with being,
ontologically paradoxical, glides aimlessly through the dark
seamless cosmos of my existence. In this vast expanse of
endless possibility, wasted potential, chronological
synchronicity, and philosophical impossibility, I hear my heart beat once more and remember to
Breathe
I open my eyes, the metro's come to a halt.
Lying in the fetal position, worried eyes staring. The soft ringing in my ears turns into a voice: “He’s back” I smell of brine, my pallet tastes of sea salt,
I hear the crashing waves of the medics’ hurried footsteps. The whales will sing my tale tonight, I grin.
Malo didn’t start off with writing. He preferred telling stories and reciting other people’s poetry (especially Dylan Thomas’). When one fateful day, his friends saved him from his dark past of being a theatre kid and told him to sit down and compose. It wasn’t great, but it got better in time. Malo has already been featured in the Madrigal and is thrilled to be a part of it once more. If you’re confused by his pieces, know that he is too. Shaun the Sheep is a great show.
