the vitality of gigw
galathaea
fragments of unsculpted dreams fell once again to the asphalt
in drops of stolen granite
pieces of highlight marble
unformed chunks of clay wet with tears
and the screams i heard
like the final screams of the last endangered species
scared me more when i found they came from me
and wouldn't end
and then
digging my nails into the flesh of my palms
closing my eyes from the grey world around
and softly wishing for an oblivion that never comes
and still in the haze of madness screams
i leapt down from my pedestal of weathered bronze
and ran down the streets of time
it was cold
but the pain was at least a feeling
almost an emotion
the monuments to man had crumbled silent to the world
epochal decay unnoticed
and i don't know if i ever stopped screaming
or if the sounds just washed away
in the flood of metal on metal noise that just seemed to appear
but i tasted the slightly chalky taste
of tears
or drizzle
or blood that wouldn't fall
it was a lost city i was in
or a lost world
or maybe they just lost me
eventually i stopped my flight somewhere near the end of time
and i stopped for some time
to inspect a torn rag doll in the gutter
whom no one came by to claim
he had fire for hair
gasoline soaked newspapers for clothes
tiny chains that held his hands
and two little coal eyes that stared up at infinity with love
and in those eyes i was infinite
and the land around me fell level and cracked
the sky burst in flames and dripped around me
while strange monsters formed in ranks out on the horizon
and dark phantoms chased the winds to find their ways
but in his eyes i was infinite
and he stared up at infinity with love
and i heard voices of gods and they were hollow
great chasms formed around me
as huge mesas thrust up out the desert
in time the dimensions of deities opened before me
and they were dark
then i stood up in the mutant radiation glow of dawn
and walked back up the ruined street of time
holding tight my rag doll love
and in some strange metempsychosis
i came upon the bronze which i had left
with my free hand i brushed away the dust
upon a plaque of rotting wood which read:
girl in granite weeping
in exquisite carved letters
and beneath
in hastily scrawled lines too thin almost to read
was a heart that spoke:
d + m 4ever
and i stepped upon the altar
and stared into my rag doll's eyes
and in his eyes i was infinite
and he stared up at infinity with love
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galathaea: prankster, fablist, magician, liar
prosphora
are an inspiration.
Love,
Olympiada