I see werewolves in my sleep
Creatures that change with the moon
Just like me.
A howling force to be reckoned with.
Do you hear the pulsing tide?
There is a splashing sensation that will carry blood on its back.
Come now to the door and howl with me.
Not a whimper nor a simper
But a full blown, lung-fuelled roar.
Because there is more. Always more.
Tell me woeful wind where are you coming from?
Whose hair have you already mussed?
Are you bringing me the cheap perfume of a hastily sprayed teenager or perhaps the poised, pulse-douse of a well-aged dame ?
But you are not the same.
There is something different about you today.
I fear you carry tears.
I feel the light spray of sadness whet my own.
You are not an ill wind but rather a ropey one.
Tying us together with all our untrapped chaos
Must you bring me this news ?
I hear the echoe of a sob so very raw
Not even the crows’ caw
Can drown it.
The shushing of you through the leaves
Is the calm before the storm
Warn. Warn. Warn.
The knock at my door this morning.
Floral and flouncy she brushes through,
Energy radiating from her like a tiny perfect tornado.
Lift me up. I need her to lift me up.
I am silt today. No good to anyone.
A bloated mass of drained out goodness.
Whirl me pretty thing.
Remind me that I like to sing.
I do faintly recall, dabbing oils behind my ears
And popping colour on my lips.
But today I am grey.
I think I have no place in this picture.
I want to want it.
I want to crave the light.
But I have no sight.
She is the only link to what I once was.
If she were a color she wouldn’t stay between the lines.
She bleeds through pages and it is her blood I need.
Feed. Feed me.
See more. See more.
I need to see more.
Hear ye, hear ye !
It’s midnight madness at the house of the damned.
Time to set your clothes on fire and don the filligree garments woven by spiders and embellished by unholy light.
Sparkle and weave your way into the night.
Black roses will beckon you at the door
No need to hold secrets to your skin.
Sin. Sin. We all have here.
Bring all your crazy wishes to the floor
And spin with them awhile.
Let loose the laughter that you once stopped through gritted teeth
The inappropriate guffaw you hushed at the funeral pyre
There is no need to dim desire.
You’re at your Aunty’s so to speak
Crying is for the weak.
The gutteral screams of loss and despair
Hold no flair.
Put them aside at the witching hour
The moonlight will bring forth your power
It’s all, not nothing here
Have no fear.
Time is not a line nor is it fine.
It has a spherical elegance that is hinted at throughout the universe
Such is our curse.
Blind to the now and here.
The sphere. The sphere.
Nevermind my dear
Your eyes have not yet adjusted to this new world.
It’s brave and so are you.
All it takes is a run and a skip.
A ladle of silky contentment poured over my shoulders
Here it was. The moment I had been waiting for.
Nothing in particular but everything at the same time.
A smooth, settling in the pit of my stomach
A filling of a chasm
Was it the sun ?
The fulfillment of all my wishes ?
Or was it just that you washed the dishes ?
I longed for solvation
The kind that allows you to work it all out in one fell swoop.
I tried. I did. I tried.
I could not sit. I could not sleep.
My resolve was to solve.
I did my best with everyone
I brushed things under the rug
Hug. Hug. Hug.
I hugged it out.
I wanted everyone in neat littles boxes.
Like me. Like me.
I wanted you all to like me.
I paid no heed as pieces fell off.
A chip here or there.
It was worth it wasn’t it ?
But people don’t like mess.
And they complained that I was no longer enough.
I cut my arms off for you
But you wanted me whole.
And only when I was a torso lying in the dirt
Did I see the truth of it all.
It’s a tug of war .
And if I give a little
You take a mile.
If I smirk a little
You want a smile.
So I stand firmer now
And hope you admire my might
And if you don’t
Tough fooking shite.
I won’t go where you want me to. Won’t lie where you think I will.
I am always on the sill.
I will stand on your shoulders and when you can no longer bear it
I will take hold of a branch and climb like an ape.
Up, up, up, I will go.
You’re too slow
You can’t hold on,you see?
I am earth and sky.
I walk. I fly.
Unable to be pinned.
Tuna not tinned.
To swim in the sea.
Animal. Cannibal. Bird.
I move with the herd.
You lag behind my friend.
I’m not saying it’s the end.
It’s definitely not the beginning.
Somewhere in the middle.
Somewhere wild and open
Don’t ruin it with ‘hopin’.
(c)Slumpless(originally posted 30.03.17)