The Collapsing Star & the Douche of Time

You wouldn’t know it to look at me, but there is a sickness hollowing me out. My eyes are cavities, ultraviolet light trapped inside a cage of rotten flesh and crystals. There’s a clock in front of a mirror. Time running backwards. Collapsing rather than expanding. A supernova implosion. Several dizzying moments run into each other, compacted into a fraction of a moment. My shadow, as fragile as dust erased by Hydrogen light. Cavities erupt, leaving salty wounds. A hemorrhaging of all the ironic thoughts I ever had painted emerald green, ivy leaves wrapped around my skull.

A long blue ribbon, a signature tied to a door handle, lying on the floor, the frame inverted to become a blockade. The handle, a fallen acorn. Too timid to grow. A slow death grips and twists and opens. Pierced lungs sucking in voided detritus. Silent film stock, burning up in sepia melodrama, stuck on fast-forward repeat.

Grinding gear static stick limbs made of wood carved in a fish bowl atmosphere. Hollowed tubes of polarized light cascading over one another in a frenzy. Muscle fibre unwinds, reforms, contracts. A fluid reshaped to fill the void. Demented amorphous tissue. Sand coating leather cracks and falls away. A bleached core crumbles, a wavering vestige hangs like a mournful medal, gravity abandoned. A gentle whisper, poison slicked in honey, a siren in the void.

Void cancer. Immanent omniabsence. A seething mess of nullifying waves, splintering rocks under hammer strikes. A sea reclaiming land contained within a spiky shell, all pinprick sensation, alert and flashing teeth. Warmth bled from an iron coated interior, disguised in myriad form.

And so I swallow everything. Regurgitated grey monoliths ground my path through the sky. A rhapsody of bubbles crescendos under foot. Fractal life bursts in tangent worlds. Bacterial artifices cower in edifices too grand and too hidden to unravel.

This a gift, a birthday of the soul.

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One comment

  1. hairbuns

    A grey corpse smiles as the skin pulls tight and dries across yellowing teeth and a bubbling tongue…”I’ll sleep forever” it says in the long sound of decaying meat fizzing beneath the ground. A language as old as time.

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