The Horror

familygathering

 

Separated fluids deemed superfluous. Lenses lost on the bottom of the sea. Lost futures. Crushed hopes buried beneath a landslide of shovelled shit. American streets of nowhere. Stop talking crap. Always trying to be obscure. Forever begging to be different by putting on the same old act- each act progressively worse than the first. They stink like a dirty vulva. Or the cloth used to clean the neck of a beheaded thief. Write down your fears. Breathe in the words that rain down like leaves in the fall. Sleep together and fail together. Follow red balloons to wherever you last left them. Drunken steps in the early hours. Pieces of the night sky so easy for us to devour. The sun shines on our bare arms as our hands link by the shore. Sunday afternoons eclipsed with the simple sounds of drowned towns. Fuck those relics. Become all those souls that fell at the first calling. Haunted no longer. Free from the shackles designed by godless worlds. Baby shoes and baby skulls. Infant screams displaced somewhere far away. Tiny massive hands pleading for a chance to say goodbye. There are other worlds. There are places we will never find.

Darkness and snow outside my window. A car crash on the edge of reason. Fill the void with flowers. Come undone on an epilogue that will never be witnessed. Missing fears as the wheel turns too late. Beggars freeze to death. Crows peck at their ears. They pluck at their marble eyes. Light years come and go. Whores and riderless horses. Cheapened acts of faith denounced so carefree. Choke your darlings. Throttle the truth out of them until there’s no going back. Someone dies and we all gather round to show our devotion. Beauty snuffed out like a cigarette. Unwritten words placed in an envelope and left for dead. Blood stained snow by the side of the road. Limbs hanging from trees. Between the horrors of everyday performance, shards of light give meaning to appreciation. You’re not the centre of the universe. You weren’t even close. Just another washed up failure looking for a way out. A language of symbols. Vocal chords cut in the middle of the night. Creeping hands and tightened chests beneath swinging chandeliers. Watch them burn. Watch them fall, and shatter into a million fractions of darkened glass.

The wars that isolate all senses. Scentless hotel rooms tumbling into the ocean. Secrets stuck in the back of your throat. Take a handful of perfume bottles and shove them into any hole. Stop the madness from coming out. Take a brush and comb your hair. Each loose strand a day you’ll never get back. Laying there looking up at the stars, heaven seems so far out of reach. Those spiders that crawl across the face of the moon. Planets that circle ancient suns never to hear the wonders of your voice. So many fleeting aspects of a chain reaction. Chemicals and fingerless hands clapping at the break of dawn. Kick down the door made of leaves. Sell everything you have to become free of order. No more belongings just dreams that stretch as far as the eye can see. Feelings that swirl like smoke in your porcelain mouth. So many shapes that invisibly change. Whatever you can muster is fine by me. Shifting sentiments that gently sway in the breeze. Pieces of an idea. Manifestos no longer gathering dust. It’s all for the one that comes crawling back. It’s all just part of a grand design.

6 replies »

  1. flawlessly visceral; wonderfully brutal and terminally beautiful. i fucking love this piece. it’s like an outpouring of thought. i rarely have written in this manner, wish i had the courage to do so more often. it’s like the mind bleeding out – all the shocks and horrors that bombard our senses on a daily basis… have we become immune? yet these words are not glossy and superficial. there’s a real war going on here.

    brilliant!

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