Without A Breath

I wrote this shitz a long time ago

The pale-skinned girl is encased in molten sand of the desert

the lava in her eyes dances wildly and slowly melts to dust

as she wanders barefoot throughout a barren dreamscape.

She dances gravely despite the burns on her feet from sand

and as if quicksand she is pulled under, violently gasping for breath

as slimy fingers grasp her sunken rib cage.

 

It is a dark world underneath, such a vile dreamscape;

the Devil’s snare, devoid of light-footed faeries, filled with black sand

slowly her body withers as ghosts invade her soul and her eyes are dust

she can’t see the black eyes of the scaly serpent and this place is a cage

there is no anything, there is no heart, it is a desert

her eyes are white now, catatonic, her body is empty, devoid of breath.

 

Black maggots line up for their daily portions, slink with no breath

to eat her heart the Devil graciously carved up for their desert

she watches as the Devil’s slaves slink across the metal bars of her cage

paralyzed how can she ever escape this forlorn dreamscape

her eyes are molded with gray mounds of clay, her mouth with black dust

and somewhere above there is the safe ground, the glorious sand.

 

Vaguely she remembers a time she weilded a silver sword made of sand

Deceptively powerful it weaved a more light-hearted dreamscape

Where water crashed against her beating heart and this is not the desert

Barefoot she danced, her sword, she plunged forward with the ebb of her breath

and thick, burly muscles wrapped around her sodden rib cage

can she not resurrect this sword, and use it, to destroy this raging dust?

 

It is dark now and she can barely feel her own feet, not in this wretched cage

There are so many sounds, the demonic ravens peck at her eyes, and of her breath,

not much remains, but her sword, suddenly she is stabbing the demons, their hearts are made of sand

it is everywhere, the dark, murky water and the maggot filth and now their blood too and so much dust

‘It is your dream,’ he told her once, and she is not so feeble that she cannot dictate her own dreamscape

and she doesn’t like it here very much, why not change it, simply walk out of the desert?

 

That dreary place holds on with slimy hands but they cannot hold her, she is dust

slinking in and out of the shadows, slivering in and out of their barbed wire fences, she is their cage

her eyes are bright green and her cheeks are rosy and can’t they feel the pull of her untainted breath?

And it is stormy now, this is the storm that heals, the rain that will finally purge her of her barren desert;

She remembers now, his eyes, and his hair, his face too, they were all the color of sand,

A figment of her imagination, that is all he was, just another fragment of her convoluted dreamscape.

 

Where are you, faerie girl made of sand and dust

Where is your moon-kissed face, hiding still in that very cage?  Where are your desert eyes?

You disappeared from my dreamscape without a breath.