glancing at corners

Everything was succumbing to the trails. It was surely the end, nothing spoke anymore. Only metallic screams from soft mouths made sounds. The numbness spread across the forehead and the skies were left blotted out by a bloody moon. Eyes sore, no one bothered to look anymore. Anymore. Any. More. Begotten ache, poking at my blinded consciousness, death was ignored and only got the answering machine. Tiny clouds cried all throughout the summer days that month. How the dried flowers held their color I do not know. How redundant connections found a mate quite frankly scared me during sleep. Waking up to a stagnant delight only helped the bacterium spread. Sore spots sang outside, a foreign jumble rotted all the fruits of our helpless labor. It was time to go crazy once again. In between the tiles lied a slight sliver of untouchable space, a delight that immediately caught my eye. Hurrying towards it, I fell on a knife invisible. Who’d been so kind to leave it there? Waking a phantasy so lame, the autistic children screamed all at once and created a new symphonic frequency. Pulling out the chair to lay down and die in, I found a crying mouse with a black handkerchief. Asking it, ‘why the flowing tears.’ It could only sob and point at my right side. Upon looking, I noticed a gapping hole filled with old Christmas decorations, ornaments covered in an old mold. Tiny critters crawled and sparkled in the shade of my wounded body. It’d all began to deteriorate. Disintegrating the past and future in the same moment, I could hardly bare to look or breathe. You’ll cry to death a voice said from the distant midst of confusion brought about from the streets four stories below. Stacked layers of history lived simultaneously in a wilting convent. A mysterious hum sprung from above, then the sides, and finally the front. Mirrored in the skin, the bloody secretion of bound secrets that fall off the lines of blank pages. She sung a high note shattering the sky. A sunken rope tangled in the tears of millennia rose up, then spread in all directions of misguided hope. Shaving the nails that stuck out, the dirt from underneath fell to the floor covered in sporadic single hairs like a dusty snow. A slush to taint even the darkest shadows of diligence splashed, splattering the broken faces of forgotten dolls of one girl’s childhood pleasures. The legs gave out and all the notes screamed from the grand piano, a suicide no one expected to sound this way. The brilliance left his face as he lay still in the casket. I stood there wishing he’d simply flinch one more time in that golden pavilion that echoed all our silenced cries. The rain came from outside and splashed yesterday across our conjoined memories that this had all happened before. Why? Crawling towards the spilt ashtray of our rushed lives, rotting all hellos and goodbyes. My back ached, sending a shiver throughout my turning mind. Round and round the flames gained height. No longer able to go on, we scrapped our skin away to reveal scabs that never healed quite correctly. Injured souls confined to this melancholy inhalation of each other. The sarcophagus of tomorrow played a tune that faded before it began, stars blotted out by bright knives shaving necks in dreams. The pools of blood were so great that time decided to cease all movement and grace space with a touch so full of intent that the planets quit their orbits and began to rotate in unheard of ways. Directionless, we wandered the bloated landscape of the chilling floor beside us. White hairs sprang from great wells, geysers held together by the mere mention of a fractured sanity, pressurized by fear. Who knew these voices could hear the sun’s dying days as they crept so near? The distance left us with a singular point to stare at, the fading now transformed itself into a gust of wind and escaped with the velocity of an exploding rocket ship aimed at the empyrean of reality. Never to show its twinkle again, we faded into today and forgot our true existence of gold and silver and white. Nothing became our focus and our disguise during brief shivers of love.