"A little boy died today
Of heartache
He'll be alive tomorrow
And everyone else
With a fetish for gushing blood,
may plunge whatever he may
Into his heart
A great marvel indeed,
That he remains alive
After all his writhing
He must be faking it
Or perhaps he isn't one of us
And those
You know
We destroy!"
Heavy as a cloud
Dense as mercury
Sonam
Sonam
Come and heave
Pull
Contort your face
Let me see my strain
Transferred to your face
To your willing arms
To willing stronger arms
And then I'll know
That you are true
You are genuine
And not the throng of busybodies
With a million perfect solutions
journeys, mountains, obsession by machariart, literature
Literature
journeys, mountains, obsession
Come!
Come with me
To the mountain up there
We'll climb
We'll climb
Well trip and fall
Our knees will be grazed
Our skin chafed
Our bones ground
By falling rocks
And other men swinging dazedly past
But let only the summit
Be balm to your throbbing wounds
Let the sun atop it
Fill between the blinds
That so protect you
Not by fighting for you
But by not making you fight and flirt
With matters irrelevant
The raven perched
On the witch's shoulder
He croaked and cackled
The witch ordered him quiet
The raven shifted his little feet
Cackled determinedly in staccato
And the witch tumbled clumsily forward
In a disgraceful loop
her feet to where her head had been
Now she perches on the ravens shoulder
The raven looks about
Burdened but obviously smug
Excitement shining through beady eyes
And cackles commands
And the witch squeals and cackles loudly
Her hands clapping feverishly
Her eyes bright and unintelligent
Echoing a mad eager loyalty
She had indeed learnt well
From her loyal eager raven