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The Winking Phantasm

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  • The Winking Phantasm

    -- The egg cracked a little line of darkness,
    Open on the living thing eating its previous home.
    Its incision, its feeling tuned now towards light,
    Shadows move, in eyes barely moving, twitch
    In silent creepingness. Familiar sounds,
    Voices, faint, no memory -- Death in distant time,
    I almost remember the voices, what they meant.

    Slowly, creeping in the ceramic light,
    The angel skin which doesn't bleed fed me,
    Night overshadowed my every greed
    And staked its claim in the heart, ... tonight.

    Much decision over nothing ... no act
    Breaks accord with that waving plague,
    I catch distant figures swaying
    Next to the fanged waves threatening to swallow me.

    For some equality, to dredge up ghost organs,
    My hands move inside the painting,
    Clocks unwind, and time itself ceases its meaning;--
    Movement over the surfaces as the being
    Ripped from its life encounters its
    Opposite: And all the rushing in from sounds,
    Something I could never contain.
    Made from marble veins, almost finished,
    You struck light in the dark, the endless darkness.

    A deal because in the end you are not worthless,
    And so you made your dancing pact to become perfect.
    Last edited by amenOra; 11-30-2017, 09:38 PM.
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