Midnight anatomy

The whisper coiled translucent in veins of opal fire, ‘You would walk alone into my dominion?’

‘And you would seek to threaten me with ghosts?’ Jacob fought back a wave of nomadic nausea, ‘Vapors of bad dreams and past imaginings?’

‘Words bring a hollow comfort,’ the form twisted abhorrent in its flesh, ‘when I would watch you write a rope and drown in tempests of binary quicksand?’

Jacob lent against the cold glass and drew the tips of his fingers into a mirrored arc, ‘Ah, but she calls to me with siren tongue, what am I to do?’

‘So you speak of grazing for water in an ocean of sand?’ the speaking bubbled laughter through septic gills, ‘when I am grown fat on the rations of famine?’

And the cool night air stole in from the east carrying the scent of rain and dust.

‘Give me a choice and I’ll take it,’ Jacob whispered.

The darkness swarmed charred flesh down to sullied meat ‘Then you are cursed to live among the bones and settlements of shame.’

‘So it is then,’ his sigh broke in ribbons.

And in the heart of darkness, the first bird called out to drag the sun from its slumber.

Jacob turned to face the demon, ‘War can come from want of peace and peace from want of war.  Tell me then of your desires, you who would keep my sweetheart from me?’

‘Death,’ said the fettered.

‘Death,’ said the fury.

‘Death,’ said the foul.

Jacob smiled then, ‘True enough she can seem as death to those who would chase her. But the fragrance of her song is sweet when all sweetness is gone. And if this is to be my death, then I would rather die than leave her.’

And the moon, bloated and grey, smudged across the clouds like a rubbed out mistake.

27 thoughts on “Midnight anatomy

  1. Sheldon puts it perfectly with “threading the needle.” So well done and with a such a familiar dream or nightmare like quality.
    Also, “nomadic nausea” is going to be the name of my next punk band, if that’s all right with you. 🙂

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Grim, man. Deep, deep, dark and oh so very grim. I love the way you paint your ominous vistas of melancholy, feels like a sullen home for the homeless wretches like me.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. There’s beer in the fridge, mate. Ominous vistas of melancholy, I feel a tour coming on. Even my comedy is black of late. Maybe I should explore the medium of interpretive dance?

    Liked by 1 person

  4. You should! Form a dance troupe where words come alive and dive out into the crowd, threatening people into dancing alongside them, lest they wish to be dissolved in vats of verbs and nouns sent from Hell itself. Or maybe I’m overthinking it and you could just do the chicken dance instead.

    Liked by 1 person

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