clever zealot
*Pressuriz'd -
pulling, forcing upwards
downwards, every which way
except the way you were already
going. Slippery tiles not actually
visual but vaguely black and white,
patterned like a retro diner.
Fragmented, chipped from previous
tumbles - attempted dance drug
towards unforgiving landings.
Loving murmurs corrupted until
only ringing echoes scratch feverishly
against shadowed walls.
Once, it seems like forever ago,
theorized shelves held trophies -
plaques of treble clefs,
a ballerina within her music box.
The floor is gone now,
replaced with sharp shards'f
broken mirrors -
black fragments glitter
deceptively with beauty to
hide how fragile they truly were.
Really, everything here is...fragile?
Afraid to be held, fearful of
a grasp so delicate that it can
actually begin to piece
together some of what has broken
like inkwells spilling in crims'n,
rather than black. Why isn't my chest
expanding, lungs sticking to ribs
rather than inhaling or exhaling -
it's suffocating, yet not dangerous,
there is nothing malicious
here. Rather just a need
for affection so strong
it drowns those who
dare to try.
I...love it here -
the familiarity
of treading pain so
sickeningly sweet it
causes cavities to corrode
sensitive bones, truly
this is a second home.
You, my dear friend,
are a collection of broken
memories, lost to
shadow'd corners.*
rich portal
pearl kettle
tame needle
hearty granite
real dome
pale mulch
