|Running Through Lost Suicide
Author: Blackening the Ivy PM
What awaits at the bottom of the stairs? Nothing, But I still want to run down them and collapse in a heap, Because the intesity is too much, All I feel is pain coursing through me...Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst/Supernatural - Words: 433 - Published: 08-06-04 - id: 1687275
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
What awaits at the bottom of the stairs?
But I still want to run down them,
And collapse in a heap,
Because this intensity is too much.
All I feel is pain coursing through me,
But my body wants to stay,
And my mind wants to leave.
I tell myself it's only a knife,
It's only a piece of glass,
Though in the end we all know a weapon is never "just" a thing.
And so I cut,
Cut away the bits of surface until my blood turns silver...
And It never does.
So I lie in velvet with his corpse, cold and desolate.
There is nothing to go to,
I can't take this disguise anymore,
Because I have found no one to see my real face,
And the one who has,
Is now lying lifeless next to me,
Flies scurrying across his lips,
So the velvet changes to silk,
And my shredded skin heals.
From outside a cold wind blows through the window,
And I know I should leave,
For the rain will pour.
I make it to the dead tree at the edge of the forest...
And I am urged to turn back.
So back I run,
Mud and autumn leaves splatter me and cling to my clothing,
Twigs on trees snatch at my flesh.
Finally the shack is in view and I run up the stairway...
And his corpse is still there,
Lying in peaceful death,
As I lean down and smell his flesh,
Which used to be warm,
And it still smells of him,
But it is only remnants.
Rain showers upon the roof,
As I lay my head on his unmoving chest...
The roof disappears,
I see the storm clouds and beads of rain,
The drops stop just above my face,
And I finger the motionless tears of nature,
The rain petrified in time.
I stand and stare at the strange scene...
And see him, his spirit coming for me and I am taken away,
Above the grey clouds.
My cadaver lying in the silk that has now turned to silver blood.
The roof reappears,
Two bodies lie on the floor in a silver liquid.
The breath of life reiterates in murmurs as it ascends with us.
Nothing left in that place but a memory...
Of my intimate suicide that I was lost upon the waves of risen life.
And it still murmurs through the loft...
If you pass you can hear it,
Go deep in the forest...
Corpses that resonate life...
But soon will rot.