skonen_blades (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skonen_blades) wrote2008-05-25 09:35 pm
skonen_blades) wrote2008-05-25 09:35 pm
Leash
His mind was a fraying rope.
He dug at any imagined issue like a wolf on the scent of a rabbit warren.
His rational mind was the spike for his mental leash, an anchor for circles that didn’t always have the strength to hold his insanity back.
Those moments, he’d run off deep, howling naked out of the spotlight into his inner night on adventures both as terrifying as they were hidden.
On the outside, his eyes would unfocus and we’d wait for him to return.
Each moment of rational behaviour from him was like a wedding ring found in a meat pie;
Unsettling, unexpected, and only indicative of a much greater problem.
He called himself my step father. I had my own names for him written in small scars all over my body. I screamed that name down the chasms in my childhood memories and got back echoes that threatened to deafen me. Patches of black ice over the worst of it.
In real life, I got away.
In my dreams, I am always caught.
Hands deep in the roots of my hair and a probing insistence at my back.
All nights are dark.
So I came north, where the sun never sets.
That’s where I found her.
tags
He dug at any imagined issue like a wolf on the scent of a rabbit warren.
His rational mind was the spike for his mental leash, an anchor for circles that didn’t always have the strength to hold his insanity back.
Those moments, he’d run off deep, howling naked out of the spotlight into his inner night on adventures both as terrifying as they were hidden.
On the outside, his eyes would unfocus and we’d wait for him to return.
Each moment of rational behaviour from him was like a wedding ring found in a meat pie;
Unsettling, unexpected, and only indicative of a much greater problem.
He called himself my step father. I had my own names for him written in small scars all over my body. I screamed that name down the chasms in my childhood memories and got back echoes that threatened to deafen me. Patches of black ice over the worst of it.
In real life, I got away.
In my dreams, I am always caught.
Hands deep in the roots of my hair and a probing insistence at my back.
All nights are dark.
So I came north, where the sun never sets.
That’s where I found her.
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or is it like a big laundromat dryer in your head, all those ideas and pictures tumbling around?
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Although I think my head is a big laundromat dryer pretty much all the time.
the coyote is really a crazy clown
and i lost the meaning of mine own brilliance.
my head is more like a vast empty desert.
or something.
welcome home. sleep well.
When will he learn that he never can mow him down?
Re: When will he learn that he never can mow him down?
my head is actually more like a ferris wheel.
sleep is for the weak!
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Missing In Action Dry Cleaning
took this photo downtown thinking of you.
happy monday
Re: Missing In Action Dry Cleaning