To you dear washed up seafarer...
I give to thee,
a lie and a truth...
to be discerned by thee.
A moth clung tight to my jacket as we rode through the dark night,
silver glances through grey puddles to some other...
flip-side land,
Crumbling boardwalks...
make a stage and way for the ever-devouring and approaching sea,
she cannot find enough...
cannot desire enough to claim,
she the ocean...
a memoire of a memory,
and we fall into it too...
The lightest of silver pieces engraved with a crow,
found me the other day...
in my pocket,
I don't know how or why...
but it keeps me up at night,
that question...
Mumbles from beneath the floor,
statues caught in time...
a whisper down a winding corridor,
a telescope to see the true skyy...
a space opening within the blizzard,
a pocket beneath the warm earth...
travelling down and down,
to the deep...
we sleep,
Trailing embers through ice-cold soil...
muddled footprints,
left behind...
for we who remain,
forgotten...
I heard the wind talking the other evening,
as the ice gathered dust at the tips of my toes and eyelids...
the darkness and hues swam,
tugging me into the Between...
between the shadows and the grey,
so close to the old walls of this place...
that you can hear something in there breathing,
gasping like an ancient trapped spirit...
as I dream,
I feel things winding and merging with my skin...
that each time I rise from the darkness of doze,
a small part of the gloom inks its' way into me...
It's so sweet,
the bittersweet...
of it being so terrifying in its' vastness and its',
ability to wait there for you...
gaping and yawning,
so lest we forget...
that if we stop or go back or glance back,
it is there waiting for us...
and bit by bit,
it grows stronger as we tire of running...
until like rust it turns our gears and sparks of light,
into broken mechanics...
and we fall and cannot move our bones to get back up,
to where we were...
once in the sunlight,
Look across a thousand miles of sand...
stretching into faded light,
and salt-worn bamboo...
by waters that stir out the rituals they have learnt from their soul,
mayhaps we too could create patterns and new worlds...
if only we were to know the pattern of our soul,
and in the end...
I recalled why,
we were lost...
why the lights flick off when we walk below them,
one can tell so many stories...
that eventually no one believes,
which is when the monsters show their faces...
when the strange steps into the cold light,
we are real...
gasping,
desperate...
but only seen by those who cry wolf,
The dark wolf is galloping through the corridors...
that have grown within me,
its' claws left marks...
behind,
as we and he and she race and race and race...
to what we believe we're looking for,
we believe we've lost something?
Don't we...
some fragment that it's worth our heart and lifespan to seek out,
Some things are not a choice...
we are bound up within so many razor steel strings,
by fate...
going the wrong way only cuts us to the bone,
and in the end...
when you know that you cannot have what a normal person should,
Think of a mirror...
simple and glimmering on a wall in front of you,
you walk forward...
towards it,
closer still...
you stare into its' betraying depths,
you stare and stare...
and something sparks out at you,
a peculiar tune and the smallest of lights...
press your hand against its' surface,
at the cold foreign feel of its' touch...
let it all consume you,
and see yourself as you actually are...
pull aside the veil,
and see...
hear,
us...
as we swirl away.
Hey there traveller...
I've been missing this, and strong feelings....feels like I've taken an emotion-devouring medicine. Harharhar....Life is travelling along like a one-way train and I'm considering taking control of the controls, hi-jacking this train. If I can creep enough...then perhaps they or he will turn a blind eyeee.
Hohumhohum....to the bottle of rum and dandy suns we go we go we go.
Thank-you for still enduring my oddness-of-mind,
Much Love...
Miss CLScarlett xx
P.S. I am thinking that at some stage in the near-distant future, I am going to perform the first and only magic trick I shall ever pull. It shall be epic and bizarre and final. [A small mystery to keep you frustrated, and a tiny heads-up]. No more clues though hehe xx
My List of Curiosities (or a couple of them):
- A spiral medallion that appeared in my letterbox.
- An African Tin sculpted head of a woman without eyes.
- A silver coin with a crow on it that I found mysteriously in my pocket one day.
- An envelope of tiny paper origami stars from a night-to-remember long ago.
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