Canto II: Mother(part II)(R)

[abstrect-christ]

An essence of smoke wafting,

a moments peace ensuing;

 

Abstrects, by all manners twisted and maimed:

the Crimson Beds hue reflecting upon my eyes;

pale and gray, the Abstrect in center stage

commands with a finger, tightening the Holy Noose,

making her eyes look my direction;

making her lips move!

"I lo...ved you..."

her gutted voice echoing thoughts-

If I hadn't cut through, her voice would sooth

like an infant to her breast,

her singing voice whilst in her womb --

 

flash floods -- Him, him, him!

Slight movement feeling a tighter pinch to my neck,

feeling the shattered bone scrape its serrated surfaces;

my body's become a blizzard of cold and disgust,

my blood's been contaminated with and replaced

by a violent fluid like a masked actor -- It appears red

but lashes about, caged in a Crimson Bed,

like cellular mitosis both the scene in front of me

and my blood resembled eachother.

 

I.

Precursor

In rare form my pale, gray companion speaks:

"for thine salvation lies within thee,

for such thick of Pandemonium

among thy thoughts blind thee

to such potential," in its low bass,

and arcing voice;

Limbo it seems has its loopholes.

 

(away from this noose -- the Abstrects --

these dark streams are infinite)

 

II.

Advent

Howls! My eyes no longer reflect -- anything --

my Abstrects arm peels back -- first muscle,

then sinew, rapid cellular breakdown amongst bone,

the noose floats away; freeing my neck,

the frictious sound nonstop among my senses;

 

crimson splashes, the bed my soft landing,

arcing howls act the sirens of Limbo -- Hell --

my eyes developing amber irises

my peaceful moment turns to ash,

the wafting essence of smoke intensifies

creating black reminiscences, remembering the knife,

her warm womb -- a sharp grip interrupting my thoughts-

Biting at the pale, gray hand -- struggling was useless-

Let go! The flame saved me if only briefly;

 

but the flame -- it creeps faster catching my leg,

then my right hand boiling in its dermis,

my vigor has failed me reaching for the fatal blade --

Frozen in morose memory:

'why him?!'

Consumed by the flame --

background a blank palette --

blink-

 

Jet streamed flame, third degree burns visible;

left hand gripping the blood red handle,

the Purifying Fire, the blank palette,

I self mutilate collapsing my throat-

Surprise makes me choke on blood --

gathering enough strength to push down,

bracing, sawing, closer to the heart;

piercing it releasing the pressure,

my veins pumping more vigorously --

chest cavity cleared; the stomach empty,

my hands inside rifling through my lower stomach,

one hand my upper, other lower in my view

laughing -- just laughing --

did you really love me Mother?

 

III.

Ethereal adrenaline, I have the strength of Abbadon --

a gift granted by the Purified Fire

as it cradles me like her -- ingesting me -- mesmerizing --

feeling its change, repairing; turning back my blade,

hardening bone, tightening skin --

this force pruning my eye lids --

forced to be witness --

(further, further, further;)

 

skin tears, splits; trapezius, infraspinatus pressured in the oven heat,

bones break, meld;

this pain making me forget the beauty around me,

this pain like the blizzard in me, freezing, creating rigor mortis.

 

Bursting from my flame cocoon

I could see more Abstrects surrounding me --

waiting --

sharpening obscured talons and nails --

never getting a chance to even flex an obscure muscle

before the Purifying Flame engulf and turn them to ash

from the first flexes of my midnight wings

floating among their howls exploiting their frequency

going further from my Great Twilight --

entering the Collective Twilight:

 

rivers of a darker hue than the blood in my system;

like pupa to a fresh wound others squirm

among this River Styx, writhing in their malice

Limbo's wrath's blinded them to freedom -- their calls go unheeded;

horror, terror, it all goes unheard

the thicker the Collective River's become.

 

Now like oil the river's delta appears,

nothing- No Abstrect, no collected souls,

just an Abyss;

 

IV.

The Abyss

sucking me in like Pickman to his Model --

 

like the Black Widow it lured me to its web,

this black substance explodes in a series of

brush strokes, each stroke vibrates with its

own intensity, passing through me,

solidifying in me drawing blood like the pellet

of an exploding mine,

 

each stroke expanding traveling the contours

of my body, unsure where the body exists

I envision the Abyss's abdomen curled --

back legs twisting me, front placing its spinnerets

mucus in order on my torso, across my eight foot wing span,

a smothering feeling apparent, the Purified Flame's

power is obsolete, I'm bla-

 

by Jeremy Swyck

(refurb:11/19/09)

Edited May 2, 2011 by abstrect-christ

[tonyv]

Enter the Abstrects ... And this is my canto dosage for today. Whenever I osmose one, I go into overload. Still, I look forward to reading the next ... as soon as my brain has had a chance to recuperate!

 

Tony :)