silence like boulders tossed out to sea, a fly murdered by curiosity and the waves crash on and on and on..and on..forever.. breaking, never having the chance to meet the shore, internally quaking while deafened air, still from the fear of it all, appears bemused and rouges at a small bareness pushing water into nothing and the moon bruises the awareness with her violent tugging, words cannot live in these waters too dense for their waste to contaminate the rhythm, much out of place so a voice remains hidden. A sickness replies to this wordless ado from the air, an acrid infection of vision subdued..and the minute being pushes on, its tears mothering this sea in lull, salt weathering the flesh under imminence of death, dodging a persistent blow. It is bleeding at the cause of its own contribution, beaten and needing to know what the truth is. The air made fearless in illness becomes wind, cowardly advance becomes him creating a storm of question to the soul that numbed him, not realizing at all that this soul was his twin.
Posted on: Wed, 18 Sep 2013 23:35:34 +0000
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