There’s a bell somewhere out in space that nobody can hear. I think it’s made of my mother. Or maybe who she was supposed to be. Me and dad too. I can’t really listen very closely because the more I strain the darker it gets, like I’m supposed to let it go.
But I feel it calling. I feel the clashing, the extolment of justice; it sings like a sinner and it wrings like a snake. Blaring. Writhing. And there’s no warning, just a loose arrow from a quivering lip, sank in the heart. And there you are.. or we are, or something is. But it feels so close to nothing, deep enough for it to be out of reach.
I think she was talking to me again today. I don’t know if she’s God or some breed of harpy that learned to sing to their prey. I don’t know that it’s out there. I know what it feels like to ask. It’s just my ears ringing.. a steam whistle, rattling and wailing. Like a crystal clear diamond atmosphere diving out of space and crushing our sky.
A solar flare of indebted dares.. a lunar sea of mellifluous lunacy, held together with quilted webs, helter-skelter, and bursting at the seams.. A cage in me; complacency, you soothing rat, you played with me, disgracefully, like nothing is what’s sustaining me – be quiet if you’re counterfeit! A drone, I think, buzzing slowly at first but then suddenly in front of you, there in all its glory like the shadow of wind. Sweet. It feels sweet.. dulcet and disturbing. Like a cake or a goodbye. Something that you kind of need in a way but you can’t honestly explain, because they both feel bad for you. I guess I think cake should be made of fire. I just want something bright to swallow me back like the dark does.
