A key made of clouds twists at the back of my skull, popping off the top of my head.
Standing outside myself like a reflection, I see a writhing pool of scintillating darkness and inky bright inside my mind. Consuming and vomiting and writhing over itself like a confused and terrible ouroboros.
My naked arms plunge into the muck, with golden flecks of sound braingeysering forth in the wake of my mangling hands. I reach deep-- no, deeper-- until I can feel my fingers scratch my throat, from the topside, down. The backside, in.
My face mimics my own countenance perfectly, still concentration written like an elaborate signature across the angular planes of my cheeks.
My fingernails scrape across a spiraling shell that I try and grasp with muddy fingers. My digits slippery with uncertainty. Trying to rip it from the cords of my neck proves more difficult than expected. Learning a new language often is.
All I can manage is a twist. A realignment. I pull back, and crush much of the wriggling mindmass leech downward. Like feeding a garbage disposal.
Trying to change voices is hard. I have to teach myself how to speak in new tongues with the fluidity of a scribe's hand. Translating discord into a songbird's screech.
1:45 a.m. - 2014-05-01
Recent entries:
Tossi Propter - 2018-07-02
Summerscorch - 2018-07-02
Heartdesert - 2018-06-25
Elliptical - 2018-06-25
Back and Callback - 2018-06-18
My profile
Archives
Notes
Diaryland
Random
RSS
others:
As-I-know-it
Nicim
Breathe-Salt
Swordfern
Star-Brite
Swallowthkey
ATwoWayDream
HumHum
Secret-motel
AndWeBreathe
MovingSands
WeAteTheSea