Observations of a BouquetOh bearded Iris, your bruised foliage plumes against the starkness of my walls. This Underworld I call home. While it seems dark in here, you are darker still. Your petals twisted and wilting as I gaze upon your violet growth. The darkness overbearing, you reach for what light you desire to hold. Within your grasp the white Peony struggles to shine through. In the earth you watched it from afar. Its fair shape blooming as the ants pried open its sweet promises. Your only wish: to touch and to hold its purity. Never again will the earth accept you. You're destined to rot with the one you so selfishly hold. As Hades is to Persephone, you grip i
ImmobilizationA creaking sounds as the tension in the chains rises. I turn my head left, the hooks biting deeper and deeper into the softness of my ruptured flesh. Weakly I turn my head right as a cold oozing of plasma issues from the scarred orifices of my face. I am trapped the burden of the artificial spider web keeps me here and I know no one comes for me there is no hope for anyone in this madhouse. Strung up, a marionette hanging from a mess of strings, a prisoner of the very softest of tissues, I find that it is my body that has become my worst enemy. I feel roughly as my feet lightly brush against the bottom of my stall. I can feel the freedom the
The Eyes of LamentsIt is the pain of which I feel. The sorrow that washes over me in revolving waves, that trickles inconsistently down the softness of my skin. What I do not see, I do not hate. Where the hooks pierce my eyelids, the wounds of my open capillaries weep. Where they are pulled over my eyes, I know no anger only the thriving sadness resides. Where my lower lip is held in an eternal grimace, caught up in a trap of curled artificial pieces, I feel the fruits of my salivating mouth slip over. I open my mouth slightly, my teeth part, the tension of my lower lip dwindles off. I close my jaws; the tension rises. I hear the sound of something like surgica
Sta.sh
