Albatross

The albatross, she hangs desperately about his neck; delighting and smothering his senses

The weight of her coercion pulls him ever downward, into the depths of her eternal sky

He can’t bear to look away, for fear of forgetting; he won’t dare hold her gaze, for fear of forever

Choked by the thought of her, the strength of her grip, and bearing the rictus of delusional peace

His flesh rots, weaving through her skin and time and memory, as if to remake her with his sacrifice

She sings so only he can hear, a siren for the shoal; providence for his madness, damnation for his soul

The albatross, she won’t release him; the albatross, he can’t set her free

art: (untitled) by Zdzisław Beksiński

Madness

Blood filled her mouth, before spattering tea leaves and carmine weaves into the porcelain that steadfastly steadied her wavering savouring

Madness then took her hand, leading her through an oneiric wasteland; it beckoned spectres, who danced before them in sinister circles of möbius machinations

The coward cowered beneath ego and judgement, clawing the grip of Madness, tearing skin and tearing eyes, seeking elusive elucidation

She awakened, and welcomed, the taste of iron and fear; cool linoleum caressed her cheek, while her eyes reflected at the bank of incarnadine

No footfalls found her gaze, save the tracks she now embraced; then vaguely she wondered who it was that carried Madness, while Madness carried she

art: wordless in painful misery by Peterio