Monday

I

A beautiful blue jean tragedy stands against the cold wind like a warrior flower leaning hard against a venomous surge. She peeps shyly through her limo-tinted philosophy at the well-dressed zombie slamdance festival downtown. Nothing she owns makes enough sense to be a reliable compass. Nothing she knows can change the fact that her panoramic view has a large ugly crack through the center; the world is torn in half. Or was the angry rock thrown from the inside?

 

II

She flies like glass shards through the emptiness beyond the doormat marked ‘Welcome,’ in search of a foothold on a smooth flat rockface. But, small cries for her attention tear the wings from her higher vision, large hulking threats salivate over her caged mouse and stupidity's erection will not rest until it's fed, ridden and pampered into submission. 

 

III

She stares through the kitchen window at a tuxedoed finch who is furiously pecking at a balled up candy wrapper. The tear-blurred sunset seems to exhale. Wholeness, she thinks, is a myth best saved for those who’ve never been broken. She’s too busy to mend the hole in her soul today; or too worn. Perhaps tomorrow the beast will sleep late, and the mouse will swim a hot tea ocean to her sunrise epiphany. Perhaps there will be a quiet smile waiting at the botton of the cup.      

Author's Note

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Reviews

[MuSe Ampoule]

And yet another. I just can't get enough. I love this and you are just always amazing with your images and deep ponderances...all of which are hidden in manic surrealism. Wonderful! Every time I open a piece from you it's like a poetic treasure hunt...and the prize is...(insert favorite thing here)

"Wholeness, she thinks, is a myth best saved for those who’ve never been broken." - Yes.

[Jūdan FyreHeart]

=D The fantastically surreal way of putting across the mind of a broken and 'couldn't care less' soul.