Author: M. Soames PM
Three strange dreams are chronicled, linked by the narrator's quick, fleeting love. Rated M for material in the Second Dream. For those of you who feel strong enough... Read and Review.Rated: Fiction M - English - Words: 684 - Reviews: 2 - Published: 04-22-05 - id: 1893153
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A Techno-City of astounding beauty.
Dark was the sky, darker the architecture;
But bright were the lights, electric by my conjecture.
Against a wall, primarily unseen.
Then my love did stare at me,
And turn her head – to walk out on me.
Her pace steadily quickening.
But I, having given up before,
Knew that, should she leave, I'd end my life for sure.
A mere seed in a pouch, aching to be sown.
Finally, having almost caught up with her
She descended to the Subway – an Angel among sinners.
Down those Subway stairs to find her and calm me.
Descent into a world of sin and dark
Was the last thing I'd expected – perchance a park?
Omniscient and dreadful, 'twas clear they would kill me;
Or, at the very least, change me
In ways of sin, of sight, of sound – the soul'd be free.
Make my way I would, into the first room's pit
For, my reasoning told me,
She must be down here – she's my candle lit.
Howe'er, horrific sight inside rendered me breathless.
In a room tiled but grimey, a figure neither stood nor sat
And, truth be told, his eyes were those of a cat.
Were all't could be seen of his face –
Mask most perfect he'd fashion'd in place
In a manner all knowing, wise.
This figure reminded me of, staring most discrete.
Scream I could not, but then I took notice
Of the blood flowing out from his cloaks (quite like a lotus).
To rub most intensely my confused eyelids.
But, gods of gods, more figures came flocking down,
Descending upon me – as if duty bound.
But sight worse than the first my eyes were witness to, kid:
These figures, veritable phantasms by their identical dress
Were in throes of passion, with young female partners – and knifing them dead.
These phantasms wondered not, as they continued their dance
With death, plunging both member and knife
Into such sweet young women, robbing every one of them of life.
Their partners – with little sound.
But, hark: shrill cries rang out
From a door labeled VIRGINS ONLY, ALL OTHERS OUT.
Of the phantasmous sins with perfect face.
God of gods, where could my love be found?
Here now – neither of us shall be found.
An antique most exotic, but hardly was it thrown
From atop a steep building,
In that Techno-City – city of sin and of sinning.
Demanded collection – else my head in a jar
Depart I did from his company – and traveled far
In search of said artifact, hard to find – hay in a stack of needles.
But ready I was, tight and wound
When I stared my debtor straight in his face
Only to run away, out of the place.
But out of his existence – and into my youth
In my High School Halls, where gazed I did
Upon my love, my love – who'd lead me to corruption, to death.
Which frightening some, will give cause for long screams.
They knoweth not, though, the exact shape of that mask
Which still haunts me – tearing me out of my dreams.