Prose and poetry from the fetid depths of my mind. Watch your step.
Wednesday, September 25, 2013
It came to me in a dream (UNTITLED)
I tear my dirk through the blood-soaked linen and down comforter that wraps you like a present or an egg left by Those Who Sin Against The Sun. The morning light lands onto your fetal form and you stir first in annoyance and then pain, the light lancing through your skin like parchment. You scramble beneath more bed-sheets and now I know what must be done. I tear down curtains and open windows with quick, assured movements while ignoring your sibilant whispers that drift in waves underneath the red. I call for servants, not daring to leave your... the room. The servants hand me the tools required and wait outside the closed door until it is their turn to handle the remains. The mirrors are all shattered which is for the better and I navigate the glass shards and broken pottery back towards the nest, your evil radiating like fever-heat as you whisper protestations. I assemble the drag-pole silently, screwing in the hook and checking the sharpness, and at this whatever you are now knows it is over. Your hands dart like small fish from underneath the red-stained linen grasping for shadow and only finding light. Your voice deepens with frustration and you attempt to stand up, feet scrambling for purchase on the blood-soaked floor, and now it is time. I catch the linen mass that is your grave, your womb, with the pole and tear through the layers revealing you like some demonic pearl. For a second you are an avenging angel, naked and covered in gore, eyes shining brighter than the heart of the Sun, and then your skin begins crackling like a roast pig and your halo of blonde hair bursts into flame. You surprise me by leaping forward, knocking the pole aside and pushing me to the ground, your teeth daggers and your mouth unhinged like some deep-sea fish. I close my eyes and wait for your mouth on my throat but the sensation never comes. After long seconds I open my eyes to your bleached white skeleton inches from my face, eye-teeth delicately grazing my cheeks. I sit up and let gravity take care of your hold on me, staring into the sun.
Labels:
Dreamitory,
Writing
Location:
Luna Street, Uniontown, PA 15401, USA
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