Once, it called. - Help.com

Once, it called.

In a dark and damp labyrinth I seek, finding but not searching. Soon these haloed meteors will pierce this frame and reel, dragging me to the devil’s carnival. Under the diode injected canvas is where the shallow pool will reach its deepest and where you can cry forever over forgotten skeletons of vine and steel. Weld our flesh to fly with sentient wings, they yell, and we’ll be swooned together. Yet from this bitter bed, no one wakes. Cast to an extinguished sun, two eyes are a hazy home to my bones, tiered with golden blood, but blind. Can you see how the man makes the darkness, misshapen like sprites on boiling candies? Can you hear what they say? Can you hear the song of my heart? It writes that, and it writes this. The eraser swept knoll lies guest for the final piece, but a tiny ripple in the diffident bath as that firefly flock dawns. And as the opportune flood crests, down the lead pipeline I go. Euthanize me behind an iron curtain; it pleases me so to galvanize the melding on this keeping metal floor. Free at last in fear of friend and father, you hear the final notes, chiming tiredly through the wall. Who has it cooed for? Who, who?

– It’s been awhile, but inspiration is a strange thing. Had to jump out of the shower and jot this one down with a mascara pencil on the bottom of a tissue box. :-)

This open post was written 3 years, 11 months ago | V/U/S: 1,330, 11, 8 | Edit Post | Leave a reply | Report Post

This post has no tags. Please, help out and add some! (How Tags Affect Reciprocity)

A logged in and verified Help.com member has the ability to setup a Friends List and invite others to help with posts.