18.2.014 Jiva, to Room, on the eve of the Eve of Leaving

I have put pieces of my Self in here:
there is a toxin
within
me-- coursing, piercing
as we speak.
(My pupils are huge; I am so in love.)

Soon, I am to leave.

For eleven years (this June)
you have absorbed me;
there are pieces of me in you: floating.

Whatever psychic resonance that's in me,
I hope to leave a memory
within these walls, painted (but loved,
and Oh! how you were ador[n]ed)
so tritely.

I never meant to scar you with such secrets--
and now, on the eve of my Leaving, they're no longer a blight to me;
hold tight, if some semblance is to be left remaining.

My vision flutters.

And in between the sharp bursts of New Light:
the Old Nothing.

(no Being.)