Creamy
Sickly creamy. This is what the world outside felt like as one left it, the way one might leave a bed strewn with dreams, sweaty in the sun, in the full view of the spectres who were responsible for pushing one off. To control, beyond the bounds of imagination and symbol (always derived from Nature who does not control), every drop of tear, to take them one by one and place them within view (where the spectres have already fixed one's eyes with their wild stare - eyes soon to be feared and hated), is not just a way to be brutal back; it's a way to deaden the sounds of life as it weaves threads of poetry.
posted by Danial @ 21:39
3 comments
