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.
“Bubbled laughter through septic gills”. Ugh…the stuff of nightmares.
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Haha, oh yeah ☠
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To live with the bones and the settlement of shame
God this was very powerful
You my friend have done what I call
Threading the needle
As Sheldon Always
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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. 🙂
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Fuuuh…that last line tho!!! ❤
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Sheldon, you are awesome 🎶
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Oh my lord yes, Nomadic Nausea! Punk and the taste of ruin, the album art would be spectacular 🎶
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Haha, thanks, babe. This was one of those one shot downloads, no space to breathe. And the moon was doing its thing 🌔 sometimes I feel like a passenger.
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First class, mate!
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🦄
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Sometimes I wonder if my imagination even has the capability to do your work justice.
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Today the floor belongs to you
I will bowel beaneth your feet
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Haha, I blame you. This is what happens when I tell my eyes to shut up ⚔
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Splendid use of poetic imagery, mate.
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Haha! So much eye stifling and the result is an ocean of imaginings.
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True enough, eyes are greedy bastards 👀
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Dark poetry in fiction form. Beautiful.
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Hazaar ⚔ I love that description.
Also. Last night I dreamed about an alien apocalypse. Wonder whose writing was in my head?
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Haha! I want it to be mine! Sounds like a cool dream… Fit for a story?;)
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It was totally yours, mate. And was indeed cool, and pretty grim stuff, so perhaps story, or at least something perilous.
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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.
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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?
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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.
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Hahahaha, that is my chicken dance.
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Well ✒ penned😊👌❤
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Thank you 🎈🦄 I’ve just been for a visit to your site, what a joy your work is. I look forward to reading more.
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Yr welcome…😊😄
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