Thread: Knock Knock. ( small amount of language )

Isolation
is a terrible trick to play.
The mind begins to fade
to a blob of pink-grey flesh.
Revelation, irrelevant.
Inferno dissolves to ember,
ash, dust
and is forgotten before
even utterance can forgive it.

Heart forgets why
she has to beat,
though ticking clocks
remember well
and give no quarter
of an hour to see
the end of my favourite show.
This bottle fills my table,
hand, my mouth, intrusive
but welcome
by omission
of less palatable details,
mocking
in conscious theatre.
These words have lost themselves
in the cataclysmic emptiness
of hours or days or weeks,
or whatever the fuck it was last time I looked.
Meanings, understandings, feelings
in stark, greyish green contrast
daubed upon rotten walls
that drip and drip
and like a drum
fall dumbly silent.

Still, a susurration.

Twitching throughout the house
a drop of glowing sound and…fire!
At last the air is rent
and coils in crashing flood
that should shatter stone
and bone and tedium.
The racket of hinges
roaring forgiveness
in undetermined language
of grave or lips that kiss
or furious retribution.

Absolution has no tongue.
When singers are silent
all songs are one.

If anyone had any thoughts i'd love to get some feedback on this before it disappears into the backlog.

Hi Crowley,

some interesting phrases you have going on

the formatting seems a little inconsistent to me in places ...

i'm on the fly just now but will try to return another time with more words

and cheers to you, ash

Wow, I really, really like this, Crowley, but I need more time to digest fully what I've just thoroughly enjoyed consuming. I've just got my computer back after almost a week without it and I have a million things to catch up on. I, personally found no fault with the format and the piece is peppered with fantastic phrasing. I get the general gist, but I need a few more reads to completely unearth every little gem, I'll be back for sure.

Best,
Lisa