a vampire scratched a map into my right cheekbone.
so i followed it.
found the solid ground in the middle of the swamp.
trees gnarled, and leafless, growing out of the bog.
i keep sinking into mud lakes and burrows.
but im hearing this strange song through the fog.
its about cactus. and strange sunsets.
i see blue lights flashing...warnings ahead of my trail
there is a eeire noise...
i am conscience. my eyes are burning, and covered and i can taste iron on my lips.
my forehead aches and pulses.
i feel metal tight and lodged in my wrists and back.
my legs are bound and my arms go numb from the pressure.
im wet, there is no warmth. there is dirt beneathe me. i can feel it on
my feet and ass. scents of sex. and bottles clinking.
my face is smacked with a large hand. i can feel its is thick and calloused.
dragged to a table..blindfolded still. im given intravenous solutions.
it feels comforting and hot, my blood rushes to my face, limbs and other extremeties. i lull myself with the sweet music i hear coming from the earthen walls, i presume. i see the blue lights again.
i look down and see delicate holes are carved out of my torso.
they are filled with blood, white mucus and urine that seems to be covering me all over. bones are revealed, my heart pulses heavy.
i dont writhe from this. i glare at the blue lights.
a mirror is held up to my face.
my head hits the wooden table and no pain but the pressure swells around my brain
i cant read the writting on my brow.
my eyes are still burning..and blood pulses out of the wounds.
i can see nails on the edge holding the mirror up.
they are grey. and sitting inside puffed up white flesh.
Read it. he demands.
beautiful. i respond.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
3 comments:
I can tell that you are in pain of a sort, needless pain I believe, and once again my theory that pains creates the most beautiful artistic expressions hold true. You speak of my writing evolving, but yours is as well, perhaps faster than mine. As much as I hate myself for possibly adding to your state of mind, your words are the most beautiful that I have read of yours as of yet. This is a masterpiece of words and the one image that you force us to see, it creeps the hell out of me, whether or no you are calling me a monster, I don't know, but the image is extraordinary Michael. It has burned into my brain.
However, I don't believe that pain should be seeked out for that reason alone. There are other ways. Keep searching.
Allright, I left a long comment and then it dissapeared into oblivion so I'll try a recap:
Beautiul scattering of words, obvious pain and confusion, extraordinary images. Ur writing evolution is at a faster rate than mine. Keep it up. Pain creates the best art, but there are other ways to search for inspiration. I think you are hitting on something here, but let go of your immediate pain, you will not be needing it where you are going. I am still your watchful friend.
Ty
Hello! This is Ty's friend Blu. I absolutely love the first line ... would you mind if I used it in a painting? I promise to send a photo of it when its done... Words speak to me and fuel my art. I've used Ty's poetry many times in paintings. He is a wonderful muse...
Post a Comment