My chassis is being filled with a terror, I can taste it in my bile, it's tearing through my core and choking me with soil.
Listen: can you hear? Such pitiful screeches. My harpies have been locked away, yet hear them beg for escape. I won't allow them a feast, not tonight. The moon is pregnant, my harpies are in terror, debating over when bloodied birth will pour from darkened illumination. If I feed the key, into abandoned hole, that fear will become me. I don't want that, because it itches. It burns upon my diaphanous exterior. Scratching at the seams, the thread keeps catching on my thorns. Every pull brings serenity down as a veil. (I'm a bride to relief.) There's agitation in my marrow, no detectable meat; just commotion, filling me with sickness. Burning acid that chokes, forcing asphyxiation. Off me hatred! It's obsessing upon my membranes. But I want it gone. Turn blind eye to turmoil it bangs behind my lids; painting me with crimson ink. Creating doors to slam I vomit the harpies. They harassed their way through my steeled interior. Upon the floor they appear coated in honey; syrupy flood, they lap at themselves. I turn in disgust and, see cracks running through walls. Deterioration licks a trail through my retinas. Aroma of decomposition. Gaze down, a hole of confusion, where beating self should be. My harpies snicker, gorging themselves on bulging mass of gore. The key shredded hope and feathers. Now I drift below the murky depths of a forgetful lake and sink into paranoia's indifference.
My Dear Writing Friend,
A read of a different type than I would normal prefer, as it is macabre and grotesque. With that said this Gothic in style write is well written with word brush strokes that remind me of something from Edger Allan Poe would have wrote. I posted two word definitions as I thought some might not be well acquainted with their meaning.
Blessings, Laughing-Bear
harpy |ˈhärpē|
noun ( pl. -pies) Greek and Roman Mythology
a rapacious monster described as having a woman's head and body and a bird's wings and claws or depicted as a bird of prey with a woman's face.
• a grasping, unscrupulous woman.
ORIGIN late Middle English : from Latin harpyia, from Greek harpuiai ‘snatchers.’
diaphanous |dīˈafənəs|
adjective
(esp. of fabric) light, delicate, and translucent : a diaphanous dress of pale gold.
ORIGIN early 17th cent.: from medieval Latin diaphanus, from Greek diaphanēs, from dia ‘through’ + phainein ‘to show.’
My Dear Writing Friend,
A read of a different type than I would normal prefer, as it is macabre and grotesque. With that said this Gothic in style write is well written with word brush strokes that remind me of something from Edger Allan Poe would have wrote. I posted two word definitions as I thought some might not be well acquainted with their meaning.
Blessings, Laughing-Bear
harpy |ˈhärpē|
noun ( pl. -pies) Greek and Roman Mythology
a rapacious monster described as having a woman's head and body and a bird's wings and claws or depicted as a bird of prey with a woman's face.
• a grasping, unscrupulous woman.
ORIGIN late Middle English : from Latin harpyia, from Greek harpuiai ‘snatchers.’
diaphanous |dīˈafənəs|
adjective
(esp. of fabric) light, delicate, and translucent : a diaphanous dress of pale gold.
ORIGIN early 17th cent.: from medieval Latin diaphanus, from Greek diaphanēs, from dia ‘through’ + phainein ‘to show.’
Oh my goodness, SilentVerses!! I am smitten with your magical weaving of words inside the bleeding of your ink which pierces my mind and shatters my soul into a thousand pieces. The darkness within your inspiration is overwhelming, yet light erupts in identification with your terror of experience.
Such brilliant musings ending in the only way possible:
Now I drift below the murky depths
of a forgetful lake
and sink into paranoia's indifference.
What dark lines you've created. They reach deep into the pit of existence, so personal. I absolutely love the imagery and how abstract you've versed this.
Wow...I'm actually speechless...and that's a rare feat. Such graphic prose that brings me to my knees. I'm fascinated, disgusted, intrigued, turned-off, peeking through my fingers at the gore and lusciousness. You are a master of the words, my friend...
Very quizzical, your words gave me a sickly feeling yet I read on from pure curiosity and desire to find out what happens next. You have much talent, nicely done.
love the line 'my harpies have been locked away', your imagination is amazing, I like the mix of fantasy and emotion. love the way you ended the poem too.
I adore reading, it is where my love for the written word has originated from. My favourite writers are Sylvia Plath, Fyodor Dostoevsky, j.d sallinger,Ken Kesey, Primo Levi and Virginia woolf.
I exp.. more..