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Tear Wing

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Forest Fire in B Minor [11 Mar 2003|02:20pm]
[ mood | drained ]

Treetops burst with fire flame, dwindling against the darkened sky. He falls to the ground, arms extended. Questions bare no meaning. Helping hands contain no warmth. Embers of a burning heart.

I want it now. Not before. Not when the fool stops laughing at me. Now. Disproportionate; it swells, gorging in the bitterness that feeds its birth. Lying on his back; bandaged and mixed. The words hang from his throat in suspended carousels. Feathers spread from omnipotent places, fluttering against the wind.

Cold stone altar. Shaky hands. Dark trickles. Faded hope. Lonely heads hanging from the walls. Suspended agony. Displaced grief. They hide beneath the waves. Conflict drives them deeper under. Blood bath. Sugar shower. Trip the candle wax and watch it burn. A basin for your troubles. A sanctuary for your thoughts.

Still so grand for one so old; they cheer despite their size.

Flower flame floats past the key, jolting it from the lock. Cold and wet. Simply forgotten. Falsified perfection rages in the doorframe. The legs were given to make it walk, but motion is something it will never know. I think he knows. I think he understands. Blade tipped with crimson regularity. Hurry up and die. Hurry up and fail.

My name is no name of mine. It is but a token of my mortality. Your commands hold no baring and your efforts are masked in deception. Don't knock that over. Don't walk away. That's the most beautiful thing I've seen all day.

How swiftly it flows. I used to listen to this when I wanted to fall asleep. It's funny the way it touches you - reaching beneath your skin when you least expect it, giving your soul a firm squeeze. Hello. I'm here now. I hope you haven't forgotten.

Burning sky. Fountain spouting golden streams that spin around the world. Mounted on the spire; wings folded. The petals tremble beneath his weight, losing hope as they stumble down. Singed wingtips, dark against the sun, fluttering rapidly, beating back the wind that binds them.

Terror knocks at their footsteps, driving them into the ground. The animals are crying. Hair loss. Fungus footing. Raven with an eagle's screech is rotting through the garbage. Dead tin can clenched in its beak. Raindrops licking at its feathers. Long, slender fingers match the skulls suspended from his belt. Her face is gnarled like the trunk of a tree. Bruised blue eyes have seen the world through twisted lenses. Teeth broken off in chunks. The animals flash their faces, hidden from the cold. Markings of the action.

Smoke gleams off her neck, spiraling downward with the rubble and the ashes. Tip over the brink and fall back to the source. It takes to the sky, circling the drain. Flicker in the flames. No time. No regrets. No more.


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Finally. [10 Mar 2003|05:28pm]
[ mood | crushed ]

Wow, I finally got around to actually posting something. Thanks again to desmodus for the code, and thanks to antirealitygirl for adding me to her friends list for some unknown reason. :D

I managed to write some stuff today, too. Nothing coherent, mind you, I think I was just releasing some pent-up emotions which seem to enjoy manifesting themselves in the form of stark incoherence. This came as a bit of a shock because I've been so barren as far as inspiration goes lately. But I'm not about to complain.

Empty coca-cola bottle sitting in the sun. We find the strength that bleeds and make it whole. Falling snowflakes sink from sight; it swarms in frantic sheets. Don't give me that shit again. Unbound. Unwound. Washed up on shore and never found. Core samples. It glides so fast and moves so slow. Move with guiltless pleasure and sleep with blinded trust.

Seek not the fire that burns within, for the flames know their own way to the surface.

Weeping strong and halcyon blue - all I need is you. Mangled tethers still hold so strong. He hates the way he loves her, but needs her just the same. Suicide jaunt run into the ground. Snowflakes coloured by the dye they fall. Moss-lined trees failed to reach the ground; you punched holes in the sky with a tilted pin.

Frozen in a sexless shell. Striped lines bare no resemblance to the ones that came before. Dead on the grass. Weeping like a misguided waterfall. Again, again. It runs beneath the road. Sweltering and dissolute. It's not supposed to look that way.

The source is mocking, defying the intent. He runs despite the weight and fails to find what he was looking for. The river shows no judgment.

"It's killing me," she says, hanging across the rope.

It bleeds no further. Locked in a cavern it once called home. The darkness sits, arms folded, legs crossed. Loving trembles are folded and snapped shut, tucked away in hidden places where the light can no longer find them.

Hmm... I like writing this way. I think I'll try it again tomorrow. However, I think part of the blame also falls on the fact that I haven't slept in 2 days. ^_~

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