Still Pictures

Moving through rooms

visiting each time, and time

Here, she rises above

to look upon herself, deadened

lying there blank-eyed, bruised

Feeling nothing

staring into void, blackness

hands, more…seek her bodies secrets

Now, moving on…

locked door, here

Keyhole shines out, blinding

purity pain

Next, step into outside

sun shining on wispy long brown hair

bicycle glinting, ride away to anywhere

fever pitch search in her eyes

Back inside, onward

slumbering, yet alert

waken to lessened silence

body stiff, fear of the man behind her

she goes away…

Turn right, walk in

taste of juniper rancid

morning glass begins the day

burning all the way down

Turn left, look

smell of burning flesh down this hallway

each door opens to mutilation, blood…

no pain, lovely pain

Moving on, then up

she travels, travels.

~ by taboon on October 26, 2007.