Night is a harlot
her black silk thighhighs and harpy-
sharp tongue slithering
gooseflesh down the arms of lesser men
(and women):
we dream in the shade of nightmares
awake even in the twists
of fists in bedsheets.
Mankind has never had imagination enough
to envision the world ending
as we cover earth with the molten
core of a thousand
bad breaths; we are the assassins of truth,
goddesses and pufferfish children
gnawing intestines with a greater death.
Carved from stones of ancient earth;
etched into the sunset
with curves and twists of a mourned language
we've invoked the wrath of a vengeful god
he shakes laughter from our bellies.
We stare, in fear, at the sky.
Author notes
carved out some of the stanzas... still a dead piece of work, methinks
second rough draft/trimmed down version
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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This is just something that hit me. I don't know which part exactly, it was kinda the whole piece.
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You remind me so deeply of someone I know. Sometimes i wonder if you are her.. posing as you
x
This is stunning.. I don't really feel qualified to say anything useful atm.
I miss you. It's been so long.. I hope you are great. And everything is great.
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I miss you, too. Everything is great over here, also.
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great write, so very powerful, seems quite finished now, the rest would just split hairs. No body likes frizzy hair, or do they?
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Damn, girl, some acerbic words here...
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All of your work seems to be unfinished these days....
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lol that it does... mainly because I've lost interest in it. I try, though, on occasion to bring it back. blah.
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