The Turbulant Rise of Our Sea...

 

We creep into the other world...

we catapult into the mad,

we are lost in an ether of glowing lights...

and the eternal swing that sits between,

 the doorway to the stars...

we sew on wings,

and listen to the warm blue whispers...

 of Indian elephants,

for we do not forget where the mist began and we ended...

We dream each night,

that there is an approaching storm...

one that will devour and take all who we love,

and each time we are too late...

each time we are left living,

 with the demons of the storm.

 

Listen to our words,

catch a glimpse did you?

Of a starlight cat...

twining about a doorway?

That is our madness you see...

we chase a cat with fur like the stars,

through our dreams and waking light...

yet we cannot find it,

we cannot find what we were searching for...

 

A night ago we spent twelve hours in the twilight,

we became the leering jester...

lying through our teeth,

and dancing about the bonfires that spat into the Heavens...

our senses spinning,

through a chaos of sensations and staring eyes...

and a world shivering with silver life,

it has left everything void...

and the memory of a dream within a dream,

we retrace our steps back through the years...

and eventually find ourselves beside,

the rock pools of our souls...

 

 

That thing won't protect you girl - that thing you hold so dear,
   Have you forgotten already who held you last night?

Have you forgotten who kept you as you cried yourself to sleep?
That guy can't love you girl,

that guy you hold so dear,
    Have you forgotten already who picked up your heart?

Have you forgotten who cut his hands as he picked up each piece?
The sea won't numb you girl,

 the sea that you wish to hold so dear,
    Have you forgotten already who pulled you out?

Have you forgotten who filled you with breath?
Why do you forget dear girl,

why do you cry at night?

Why is the darkness never enough,

 to hide your shaking frame,

your throat filled with ice?
  Why do you forget dear girl,

each night it is the same...

I hold you in my arms,

yet the night after you're crying again.

 



 

An old Tale...

 

We listen to the trail of our thoughts...

dripping down through the floorboards below us,

and an ancient heart...

within the young,

you see this is our curse...

when we were young,

we saw the swiftening of time...

and realized ourselves doomed,

to have centuries-old knowledge...

in minds that had barely had a chance to breathe,

so we grew up distorted...

and with a radar for things we should not know,

we opened the forbidden doors...

and let the monsters in.

 

 

 

So we creep down the hallways...

of the labyrinth we created,

and wonder when we became so totally lost...

but all the doors are soldered shut,

and we hear claws scratching at night...

and the leviathans in our veins,

keeping us awake...

We sneak beneath the dust,

and the amber light of our secrets...

to find the pathways through our oceans,

until eventually...

each time,

we are faced with a choice...

what did we do,

to lock ourselves in a limbo of repeat...

that presents the same question,

at each point of breakage...

we feel our soul being torn out,

by the beings that feed on us in the low hours...

and find ways to block out the light.

 

So we scramble on...

to a place we had forgotten,

because the true crime of it...

is that we allowed the real power of our bones,

to be forgotten...

we thought,

that we had no right to lift our head...

that we had no right to what we are,

you hammer yourself down...

until the memory of who you were,

fades...

remember what you are capable of,

for it is the only way out...

of this labyrinth.

 

In the end we have no flattery or diplomacy...

only action,

and perhaps then our words will be like dust...

and we will have forgotten,

that they were ever written on parchment...

so we deny ourselves again and again,

and each time...

we see the off-kilter-ness within us growing,

when nothing makes sense...

and the bullet seems the greatest comfort,

Fate drags us screaming back alive...

another punch,

another bullet from his machine gun...

that wounds only what is within our head,

locked within...

we find solstice,

within a troubled word...

that offers little light or compassion for weakness,

and we find our small coves to retreat to...

where the darkness is less,

and we can dwell beside ourselves...

without outright hatred.

 

 

 Ideas are gathering in my mind...a business perhaps? Sorry dears, I'm keeping this one very close to my chest. I am sorry for the absence, I've been writing and writing  my book, and I am close to finishing the re-write of the second volume.
  The space I occupy within the puzzle box is shifting, and sometimes I wish it would stop.

  Much Love,

   Miss CLScarlett xx