my ‘random scrawls ‘ may be re-written.but the question is: did they ever need to be?
The wonders of life,never cease to amaze ~
© S.J.C. 2022
blank was the page. dust was approved of ,by the realms that the helpless inhabit.
©S. J. C. 2022
Just herself in the craft.Coming out of a dream (?) Almost like being disembodied from themselves,the same as before. They remember that day completely. Shocked awake — numb and in a haze. They are bolt upright in heir bed,another strange night vision with no meaning,perhaps all would make itself clear soon.
Memories of the past are becoming clearer today,the misty veil cof that which obscures lucid thought is gradually fading away. Will she like what they learn when it does so? At present ,it would seem a factor that may never come to them . Cold light runs through her veins. She cannot understand this sentiment. Chain is around her neck. It seems to have weight to it.Vision ;blurry. Slowly,the vague shapes morph into more focused,definite objects. They can perceive with clarity. At first it hurts – sickness. Their wet skin ,looking down on the ‘floor’ of their canoe. Broken wine bottle, shattered glass with fragments of an ornate design,which reminds her of jewelry. Gaze moves around the boat,taking in what is unfamiliar to her,when in fact,it is taken as a given that She must have been aware. Knife,washed in congealed crimson ochre,dropped as if the fist that let it fall were incapable of any volition of it’s own . The surrounding flesh ;fragile chain,it hugs tighter (or it might well do so), a sense of apathy in her clear orbs, mesmerised by the lifeblood and remnants of cruor,the still warm blood,that once supported life. Covered in gore ,painted on,not unlike how an artist create a macabre scene. Something was so beautiful about death. That was ,in a twisted way,how she wanted to love.
Under the boat ,a chain,rusty exterior,leads lower down ~victim . The heart cut out . Penetrated;extracted. Unfocused eyes are so flat ,barren. What once had warmth ,the spark of a soul ; just a vacant glass.
The girl sits. How many hours have they been in this condition? They do not know. Such a listless disposition feeds them — no drains their very spirit. Detached from life. At the conclusion of the chain,a heart – shaped clasp ,in two halves — actual organ inside. Somehow she knows it is his. In a sick parody of romance ,their lovers spirit ;inert,yet it belongs to her. At the moment of death,they shall embrace for eternity. Her palm grips the crimson- stained taker of living,pressed to her elegant flesh. Darkness.
– END –
dry rasp of death emanating from my throat ~choking.
my liver failed and i died. at least she won’t [truly] know that i love her.
Unique perspectives.Two unique views build one path.Opposites attract. – Grace Y. Estevez – ReddyCombined Intentions
If I wrote a new page for every day of my life, I would have run out of pages before I had even begun.
write on the wind,and fly with the angels ~