Life At The End of The World

sometimes what resembles the grave is a great place for a crisis (amazing fantasy landscape from : http://liamwoood.deviantart.com/art/Shore-Castle-495393446)

[clematic-crow]

Apples

I still remember that one time I went thrift shopping with you, you walked beside me, slowing your pace to one small stride at a time and I heard you mumble, "one apple, two apple, three apple, four apple" To the time of your steps, and I asked, "where's that from?" And you told me, it was the rhythm for procession, when they're walking down the isle, of our old church. I remember wanting to laugh then, at how ridiculous it was. I walked out of religion years ago, and here it was, a phantom walking beside me again. I never thought it could be used for this.

[clematic-crow]

Carbonaro / Coal Burner

by: Clematic_Crow

There’s a Mary Grace down there Floors below the labs that say Pathology. She’s one of the few that wakes Shakes, the dust from her shoulders and Takes the chairs off her tables at 7AM When the light breaks.

I lean against my chair Blue plastic, black steel Swing my legs over the edge And I imagine Below my feet There is a kitchen, startling awake Sputt’ring out fire against the cold morning Warming up the counter for a new day.

Between the pads of my fingers I thumb a familiar line of print etched ito the backs of my eyelids  when I sleep sometimes in my dreams

I wonder.

I’m— Called Up, by my number on the screen Three Six Seven years and it’s still— me. Gripping steadfast as I  hold fast onto  the railings of my mind.

As I walk past that exact same potted plant Arms reaching towards the big lights

Towards that chair  with the swivel for an arm and  I shrivel the fear in my heart 

Hold it close to my chest  As I press My fingers into  the muscle beating the blood out of my veins. Goddamn  it’s trying its best.

I confess, I close my eyes  When they tighten the tourniquet.

I say, god, I’ll never get Used to this I always forget One month, two months later ‘Til I have to go again.

I can-  imagine, They’re turning on the fairy lights Trapped in jars  Like fireflies.

There is a skylight, Pouring down from on high. But they keep the umbrellas open Inside.

I feel the angry tug of blood in my veins But my mind stays  on the thought That those umbrellas should have been bad luck

And- godfuck

the needle slides Silver smooth  From my skin

And there’s a small ache like a bruise Like an apology I’ve grown familiar with

And I press My fingers  onto the lazy bleeding pulse As a dot of red Peeks  like an eye From cotton gauze

I stumble down  Below the cold linoleum  With the promise of retribution Because

Hail mary, full of grace She waits, like the blinking lights of a city in the sunrise

I catch my eyes  On an empty table.

[clematic-crow]

Phantom Wellness

by: Clematic_Crow You tried to sit up. You really did. But then the world swung. Grabbing your skull like a bowling ball and swinging it against the ground to strike home.

You breathe. Blinking against the inertia. Your mind is rattling against it’s heavy shackles. Angry and confused.

It was like a dream, half-formed at the back of your mind. A mirage that broke apart when you leaned up to touch.

A phantom at your mind’s eye was sitting, no nausea, no pain. Somehow you realize. Your muscles still remembered how it felt. Still jumped when your nerves called out to move.

Your mind screams at you, from its bygone illusion of health. Wondering why you can’t get up. Walking up to you with the angry, stomping footsteps of a child; Shaking you awake demanding, “why are you still here? Why are you on the ground? Why can’t you stand up?”

And you’re too tired to answer. Tongue weighed like lead at the back of your throat as the world spins and spins above you.