Cataclysmic Insanity
"I wanted to hone myself on it till I grew saintly and thin and essential as the blade of a knife"
-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar
Asphyxiated blue-tint skylights
Filter strangled sunlight
In piano fingers
Of anemic memories
You had asthmatic hands
That wove breath into fading gasps
Your back a canvas
Of wingless alar ribs
X-ray birds and you will find hollowed bones.
Diaphanous vein tendrils
Tangled in fear
Your fingers skeletal spidery strands
Your hands starved.
I want to fill your bones with flight.
(Source: nerysoul.deviantart.com)
Sometimes you make me feel like I’m living at the edge of the world…
Plainsong, by The Cure
