an anesthesia as quiet as
mustard gas
with it's creeping cloud passing through barbed wire with a magnificent yellow intangibility;
slow-moving and inevitable, unavoidable, and deathly--
--it's silent stalking is the breath of the Holy Ghost.
an anesthesia as visible as
a mute scream
from the cracked beaks of all-black birds as they croak outside the thin, thin, thin, panes;
birds ruffling and rustling like reptiles that knew better
and beat the game that the mammals never tried.
Pressing, muffling, a heat so harsh and deep I wake from my sleep, running away from the pull of a endless dark tide. So dark the breaks cannot be seen in the black gulf. I am haunted.
I am haunted.
I am haunted.
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream. There is no rub--all folly and hubris brings the death knell.
Where is the source?
To whom must I kneel?
I can feel are my bruised knees from falling prey to false idols,
but all I can hear are the creaking ropes of hung robbers.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 4:51 AM UTC
an anesthesia as quiet as
mustard gas
with it's creeping cloud passing through barbed wire with a magnificent yellow intangibility;
slow-moving and inevitable, unavoidable, and deathly--
--it's silent stalking is the breath of the Holy Ghost.
an anesthesia as visible as
a mute scream
from the cracked beaks of all-black birds as they croak outside the thin, thin, thin, panes;
birds ruffling and rustling like reptiles that knew better
and beat the game that the mammals never tried.
Pressing, muffling, a heat so harsh and deep I wake from my sleep, running away from the pull of a endless dark tide. So dark the breaks cannot be seen in the black gulf. I am haunted.
I am haunted.
I am haunted.
I cannot sleep, I cannot dream. There is no rub--all folly and hubris brings the death knell.
Where is the source?
To whom must I kneel?
I can feel are my bruised knees from falling prey to false idols,
but all I can hear are the creaking ropes of hung robbers.
