a journal in short bursts that might occasionally even rhyme |
The sea inveigled, yellow-black and frantic, its horns honking her name; would that machinery fit her insides, with the engines emanating such angry animation? Perched beside her, sweeping in its chicanery, the wind trumpeted heroic songs of tragic heroes and stoppered prophets in the corridors of steel monstrosities. There was fire, all charming surface and deadly purpose. Polluted smoke gutted her senses, narrowed her vision to a pinprick: the gap between Charybdis and Scylla. A handkerchief of Thorazine meant to block her eyes and stop her ears, a rope of Haldol meant to bind her hands, and bring her through to safety, she had left those accoutrements behind, could only now lament their lack. Winged maidens lured her towards the rocks below, their sirens blaring with adulation and deception. Nothing ominous here, they promised, where cars drifted, purposeful and aimless, where towers bent and shifted at the sky’s whim, where streets crawled with bodies two-legged and four. Crowds came out to greet her with upstretched hands and worried faces. Arduous for being god-touched, her odyssey neared its end; the shores of home beckoned. A long fall but a quick landing, the earth cajoled. Finally, something concrete; was that not what life had previously denied her? Shouts of joy followed her down. |