Drag me down, despite my superior air. Drag me down to your level, where even the maggots would not deign to go. Pull me from this high horse with hands that reek of earth and rot, fleshless hands that embody the cold nature of death. Your mouth is open, toothless, in some kind of silent scream, plea, or challenge. Perhaps your nose, if you had one, would be curled in a snarl and your eyes, were they not long withered, would be aglow with some fierce need.
Pull me away from the pettiness of my conceit, the prettiness of my words, and into the welcoming womb of the earth. Into the dark. Into the silence, that cavernous lack of anything familiar, anything alive. Embrace me there, in your own realm, where your power is at its greatest, where you are whole (if a thing like yourself can be whole). Devour me, if you will, because it has been much too long since I've felt anything like pain. Too long since I encountered something strong enough to hurt me. Lure me in with sweetness, and eat me.
Love, you've been far too long in coming.
Yours,
-S.R.
No comments:
Post a Comment