handforged
Hold this card. The phrases were intended never to be read.
Or read and frozen, kept under lock and key.
I have never understood, because i understand too much. Sat undercover, hidden in the remains of uncertainty, smashed to smithereens. Like a plain china plate in a tablecloth. Don’t try and follow your convictions; they seem to always turn out wrong.
Too much going on in the head, they said. Don’t try to medicate or overcompensate, just let it take its toll. Or the good times roll.
Blend it all up and serve it in a glass, presented on gingham check, its substance slimy with intent and intellect, oozing from pores and glands.
Time has come to pass this way. desperately clutching for every human characteristic to hold on to, to take its hand, form the softest of handheld notions. To gently slip fingers between fingers. A tiny reassurance, that although i dream of stealing away miles from selves, i wish to be here in this moment more than the magic of any dream could create. Relishing the feel of a different kind of skin in the smallest of contacts. but at the point where fingertip touch heightens sense amongst… Draws out lines and dents, scar and skin and hair and bone. Melts into forms, of waxen drip through veins, ice sprinkles on skin. Breathing life.
It is all i can think of, as the waters surround. Take my hand. Yet another vision in sleep?
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