Organic Animation

A mind handed down in forgetful afterthought;
tossed to the wind and left to float on
endless sound waves.  Her fingers strike fear
in the cores of her strings; resonating cosmic
vibration to the hearts of nameless transients.

Separated by annual oceans, one wonders at the
souls dripping through the cracks of a
fractured society.  Why so many are bound to
fall, while a small few reach the last solid
ground in the macrocosm.

Twice damned in a flawless rendition of
organic animation; she enters the dreams of sleep
for a final performance.


[20:18|29.11.012] ©c.thomas.carter

The Finer Vintages of Escape

Blue, blue; a diagram for sight and scythe, burning the
incense for its amnesty, the heart is cold and
medicated; smelling nothing but the scent of apathy, a
poignant reminder of the furthering difference of
personalities in dreams and waking life.

I forget the surge of electrical thought, traveling into
spiral vectors of old mental disease.  Magnificence
displayed in spider-silk weaving detours of patterned
cognizance; teaching me virtual nothings whispered in
winding tunnels; blocked by the tribal drum of selective
hearing.

Lazily exploring cartharsis for hypnotic suggestion;
dispatching the memories of bridges over impassioned
chasms.

Beat. Beat. An overture of brass screams out the
vibration between moments.  Empty bottles clatter as
evidence to slurred lectures of the finer vintages of
escape.  Chirping pulses of fused circuits sing the
blaze of green dynamite; haunted bells and forced
dancing of the joints.

So slip we off the fuming oven to the filth of the floor
below.



[15:39|12.11.012] ©c.thom

Posthumous Tyrannical Deity

Cold halls chanting spectres of the deep;
Basso resonance dancing through corridors.
Planes of Being altered, as vision cleaves
Asunder the fluctuating barriers of reality.

I drip posthumous tyrannical deity,
While the Moon casts obscurity over facial features;
leading wanderers to their ruin.
Ice in the veins of my fingers.

Dreams without end.


[19:03|09.11.012] ©c.thomas.carter

Ghost Chill

Ghost chill; I hear The Voice.
So many drawn below,
shifting position in queue;
waiting to spasm my sight.

In flame glow I waltz a last in fumes.
Blood tattoo an underwhelming heart,
low-fidelity rapture stirring cello-strings;
aerating of plasm in sweeping theme.

Ash, ash, all to ashen whisper;
moments spoken in fear.
Acid-decayed thoughts in throes;
Burn, burn, crumble ember, none remain.


[18:17|09.11.012] ©c.thomas.carter

Cheshire-Smile Afterimages

Undulating, breathing,
dancing to palpitations of the heart.
A rhythmic swelling of twisted limbs;
Contours over bloodless veins,
screaming sight into lower attitudes.

A flicker of light,
burning emotion in the darkness.
Characters etched in stone
revealed unwanted eddies of love;
Grinning cheshire-smile afterimages.


[17:50|04.11.012] ©c.thomas.carter