--
don't you dare get on that escalator. ...and don't you dare get on that subsequent escalator.
--
soft oceanic words breathe with deep scars in the raspy tone we feel: it makes us tremble, shiver to the cold disregard. yet we feel ever warmer to the smile of those who truly mean it. cobwebs are cleared up by those bright happy emissions - and we experience this clearing, this catharsis, this explosive freedom because we had the luxury to be trapped, the luxury to have ourselves nebulized by the silvery glinting art of nature. law twirls the dagger in his left hand while his right brushes aside the cobwebs with his lance. he marches on through dark woods, light falling on tree gaps. a hermit sits on a stone clipping his nails with a thin blade... law, without hesitation, throws his lance far off, letting it scare a flock of birds and draw the hermit's attention. then law dashes, silent as a shadow, by the hermit's side and steals the blade right out of his hand - the hermit in all his distraction at the strange noise from the lance.
the thief slips away, twirling a new blade. satisfaction on his lips.
--
a shadow's embrace is enough to elicit warmth from the parts of you that you never feel touch see or think about. the subtle parts about you that exist only because others are there to observe it: it is the cloak you were born wearing and never took off; the scent of your heart that you've breathed so often, you filtered it out of consciousness. if you look in the mirror, you can't see it. but others can.
--
the spark of a howl sharpens the night rays immensely. law walks about with his sword, brushing aside branches to gaze into the sunlight. wood oak melts around him. it's an imaginary world I've put him in, and he prances around knowing his demise is the same as mine. we chain together our souls as I write and release and he walks and wields his weapon. the adventures are open doors before us.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Please be considerate in what you say.