… You were in the dream gazing deep into your thoughts.
Cold as stone, you stretched into the clouds and – where your shadow fell – rendered all else insignificant.
Some sickly, fleshless creature clad in my skin in reverence lay down before the pillar, cracked my head at your feet, and split the cavity with my fingers. A swarm of flies poured forth, blackened the still air and fell as glistening jewels.
I waited a bodiless age for you to see the blood-red ocean drying in its silence. Perhaps it was a lifetime… Perhaps it was no longer than a breath of wind and the slow settling of dust.
Strange…
… Strange that I was sure there was a chasm where my skull had split; yet it was just a vacant eye curling back its lid.
14 comments:
very Dark!
I like your style ^^
I am very thoughtful, reading this, a poetic rendering of conversations we have had here, I think. Unsettling in this form and very powerful
Thank you all!
I think I've finally been able to shake off the vanity of my intentions as being the 'point'.
I've spent too many years duping myself into believing that I am creating for an 'audience' and, as per the Aesthetics of Art/Philosophy of Art, purported to be an exponent of such a philosophy (that is, whatever my intent, once presented to an 'audience' my intentions are no longer relevant).
I've had a good shake, scratched some fleas and feel like chasing shadows again! Whatever I imagine those shadows to be will be forgotten by me soon enough. The shadows take shape in the eye of the beholder: therein lies their substance (or lack thereof).
Iryna, how fortunate I am to imagine your world of shadow and your world of light. It does me good to know you have both well developed...
Last sentence great :~)
Athletic, heartfelt leap across and into and out from the wormhole... And your comments add to same, Iryna.
I sense a loosening in you here ... But, I'm a stranger and I'm catching up. Memory is my reference point... dubious though that can be. Yet, until I am again up to speed, I'm digging in the earth for substance like a relocated mole.
Zounds. I am gorging on morcillas and blutwursts
beautiful and deep,.... like a trip
Thank you, again, for the comments!
CHM and Mersault, my gratitude for feeling the dream that it existence!
Robert, I was taught of waste not, want not... but in other languages. To partake of the blood of our commonality is a healthy gluttony... even those of us who have been vegetarians for so very long.
No blood should be wasted, especially when it has been offered voluntarily...
PS Try it in a fry-up with eggs and fresh herbs of your choice. A piece of dark rye of the side doesn't go amiss. I vaguely recall that such things can stir up the carnivorous yearnings of even the staunchest veg-head!
murmurists: I know you are already up to speed. I am here, still holding slavejaynie's hand, awaiting your return with arms open wide to embrace you; with spears and knives to ward you off; with love and compassion.
I have reminded you that this is one of your many homes and haunts. You will always be an inevitable middle, ending and beginning. You have been awaited like the proverbial. Without your looting, pillaging and love we can only be other. You can't leave us while * exists and, while we exists, we will always be trying to determine the value of * ... particularly as we all know that * can never be ascribed a value.
I am here in readiness to hear you pronounce, "Et tu, Brutus." I am here to rub salve on the wounds inflicted by your hairshirt. I am here until I cease.
Slavejaynie and I have become stronger and, due to her genius, she has opened my eyes-sewn-shut again. I won't deny that it's painful. It is painful.
Yes, I feel that I have loosened and feel gratitude. You know how much I loved my self-interment. You, too, loved your self-interment. It's time to wail our banshee songs again and, to do so, we cannot have our mouths filled with dirt. That will come soon enough.
xoxo
wow...
this is the start of either a surreal novel or a great painting..
love it
Cheers, JB. It exists unto itself as words. It does have many, many siblings. The majority of its siblings are the length of short stories so I don't consider them to be appropriate for this venue...
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