Post by dirtgirl on Sept 24, 2002 14:47:26 GMT 10
just a little something I wrote ages ago...
Obsession fuels the needy soul like tinder fuels the wildfire. Dreaming I wake, throat parched, sun beating down hard burning a hole into my cranium. I ache all over, how to explain my gravel-rashed thighs? Something about Lenny Bruce not being afraid and dancing electrons. Fears of the eighties revisited, it’s all changed yet ironically stayed the same. It’s the end of the world as I know it. Apparently.
I remember the vision: the golden haired man-child, assured and still, secure in his pixalated universe. The best thing about mirages is the sense of hope, I realise. The heat haze mistaken for life giving fluids. His voice a zephyr drawing me onwards to destiny. Ready or not. Did I dream it all? Or was he Gabriel sent to remind me not to forget to reject the unpalatable reality? Yes your future is Virgin. True Blue. Honest.
Squinting, the flash of light over the horizon catches my eye. Then I see it. A battered soul: limp, bruised and naked bogged here in the mud. Why do I know that is me? I deny the reality of the moment. It just can’t be, because I’m above myself, floating and liberated. See? What use is that body now? An empty, wasted vessel. A bloody corpse to carry life’s agony’s. I don’t want that. Freedom is where it’s at.
Still I hunger for Gabriel – I need his illumination. Why has he forsaken me in my moment of absolute truth? Or manic delusion? Because it’s all a matter of perspective you see. I thought he was immortal. But now I know this isn’t so. Too many false hopes and wishful dreams invested in me, he says. I was bound to disappoint, the man-boy coos. Sorry. Sadly this old maid can only agree. I watch him fade away from me, the vision lost in a kaleidoscope of halite and light tripping fantastic. I can only presume his work here is done. My angel is on his next mission. Another soul to be saved?
Still, I’m beside myself. How to live when the heart has died? Just when I’m truly done for I feel honey molasses caress me. She forces my forces my head high, my eyes suddenly set straight. It’s only then that my vision becomes convergent and I see why there is no illumination. I’ve got Gabriel clasped around the throat! Smothered, his wings crushed by the shear force of me. Poor thing!
I find myself shivering; wet with shame and insight. Understanding makes you clear of mind. Even when it tastes like mud. There’s nothing left to do but let him go. In a flash Gabriel’s gone for good, a beautiful memory on the jet stream of life. It’s only then that I realise that was always the key to floating free.
Obsession fuels the needy soul like tinder fuels the wildfire. Dreaming I wake, throat parched, sun beating down hard burning a hole into my cranium. I ache all over, how to explain my gravel-rashed thighs? Something about Lenny Bruce not being afraid and dancing electrons. Fears of the eighties revisited, it’s all changed yet ironically stayed the same. It’s the end of the world as I know it. Apparently.
I remember the vision: the golden haired man-child, assured and still, secure in his pixalated universe. The best thing about mirages is the sense of hope, I realise. The heat haze mistaken for life giving fluids. His voice a zephyr drawing me onwards to destiny. Ready or not. Did I dream it all? Or was he Gabriel sent to remind me not to forget to reject the unpalatable reality? Yes your future is Virgin. True Blue. Honest.
Squinting, the flash of light over the horizon catches my eye. Then I see it. A battered soul: limp, bruised and naked bogged here in the mud. Why do I know that is me? I deny the reality of the moment. It just can’t be, because I’m above myself, floating and liberated. See? What use is that body now? An empty, wasted vessel. A bloody corpse to carry life’s agony’s. I don’t want that. Freedom is where it’s at.
Still I hunger for Gabriel – I need his illumination. Why has he forsaken me in my moment of absolute truth? Or manic delusion? Because it’s all a matter of perspective you see. I thought he was immortal. But now I know this isn’t so. Too many false hopes and wishful dreams invested in me, he says. I was bound to disappoint, the man-boy coos. Sorry. Sadly this old maid can only agree. I watch him fade away from me, the vision lost in a kaleidoscope of halite and light tripping fantastic. I can only presume his work here is done. My angel is on his next mission. Another soul to be saved?
Still, I’m beside myself. How to live when the heart has died? Just when I’m truly done for I feel honey molasses caress me. She forces my forces my head high, my eyes suddenly set straight. It’s only then that my vision becomes convergent and I see why there is no illumination. I’ve got Gabriel clasped around the throat! Smothered, his wings crushed by the shear force of me. Poor thing!
I find myself shivering; wet with shame and insight. Understanding makes you clear of mind. Even when it tastes like mud. There’s nothing left to do but let him go. In a flash Gabriel’s gone for good, a beautiful memory on the jet stream of life. It’s only then that I realise that was always the key to floating free.
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