the vicarious voice of whispering wrongs. right angles of encoded language. her language. transliteration of time. topographical lines of touch. drawn through the sound of frequencies divided.
borders marked by silence: unanswered phone calls. deleted voicemail messages. ignoring auditory hallucinations.
intermixed personas of mythological beasts. headless mannequins reciting prayer. counting numbers in a foreign dialect. casualties of an aesthetic misunderstanding.
cellophane covered secrets. the surface of sound, carrying with it the floating lanterns of our childhood dreams. hands smaller than our own, grasping the remnants of a fading light. a firefly sigh. a whisper.
a broken night light. still transfixed to the walls of our bedrooms. the only thing left in an empty house. the faint outlines where bookshelves used to be. tracing its shape behind our eyelids. the dotted outlines of furniture. fragments of our fathers' footsteps. movements that defined a life.
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4 comments:
whoa. i can see why your friends can't keep up. you like cellophane &mannequins ha no but your alliteration is great 'surface of sound' struck me nicely. very nice. you know how to set the scene.
lol i know, right? sometimes i read back over what i wrote and am like 'where did i get that from??'
i wrote this fairly early when i woke up today and it made me feel really good. im usually not a morning person at all.
haha i was wondering when you wrote that. i finally started writing my short last nite*
&yeah writing something as intricate as that would make me feel pretty damn good, not to mention productive, too! :D
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