My coin, flipped
Thick tendrills reach out of darkness, creep along – drag their way across anything in their path.
Blind, yet they move with purpose. Each seeking to fufill it’s intent.
They lust for flesh.
Twisted fiverous doubt and misery. They hunt in the absence of light.
Unknowing, we offer ourselves to the horror.
No,
not all, only those of us who lack hope.
That inner light whose glimmer banishes the atrocities.
I yearn for such a radiant source. I knew it long ago.
Time is relative –
could have been yesterday.
The only certainty is now.
As I go to close my eyes I do so knowing I sacrifice my flesh and mind.
Chemically, I have no choice.
Having said this, I reluctantly slip into the void.
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What great descriptive writing. The feelings come rushing out at me. Possibly because I know exactly how it feels to have once known happiness and to have lost all hope. Keep writing!
Kristin (LinkedIn)
Kristin Aragon
October 1, 2011
What inspired this poem?
Liz Pullen (@nwjerseyliz)
September 18, 2011
To be honest, it’s straight out of my subconcious. I have issues with sleep paralysis, often at night I feel like I’m being “pulled” unwillingly towards a lucid nightmare. Generally with my “prose” it’s carthartic, a purge (I call it mental vomit.) I get a word, phrase, image or emotion that bangs around in my head – basically it’s a passing thing. If I’m quick and able I grab a pen and “my book” and it’s an unconcious spasm of scribbling. Afterwards, I go back and read what I’ve written. I try to make sense of it and correct spelling errors if any exist. What I write is always a mystery to me until I’m done. If there is any concious thought to what I write it generally turns out to be trite or pedestrian.
With this I was enduring a bout of sleep paralysis yet again, the image of the thickening tendrills coming to bind me wanted out of my head.
I don’t know exactly what else to say. The images of the tendrills greasy/slick and sickening slopping and plopping searching for me HAD to be vomited out.
eggstacee
September 18, 2011
Holy Moly
AWESOME
Mom
September 18, 2011
Really? I’m at a loss… this isn’t even one of my “good” ones. Have you not seen my real writing?? I love you mom, I really want to get to know you better, you’ve changed so much – I hope you can see that I have (and am still striving to improve) too.
I am honored you liked my prose, floored – and honored.
-s
eggstacee
September 18, 2011