some fiction that wanted to be told at 2am.
The roar of the sea was calling her to its shores.
With each crash of the frothing waves she took
one more step out the door. Like a marionette
she was led step by step, arms moving in
an awkward skewed rhythm as she
did as the master called her to do.
The master, the puppeteer, the voice in her head
the string maker, the mind breaker
the taker of her life.
He watched as she stumbled out the door heading
for the shore. He smiled that smirk of a grin, the one
that does her in each time he shows it.
He knows it
And he enjoys it...
All she hears now is death; the scream of the gulls
as the ocean lulls her to its domain. She's insane
crawling now leaving long drag lines behind her
as she pulls herself to her death bed.
He slams the door just as he had slammed her
many times before. Those words were more violent
than his fists. But again he couldn't resist the need
for control, the power to take her soul as he
moved those mental strings to entwine her
in a web of his deceit. Now mission complete, he
scurries away like the black hearted spider he is.
The dankness, the darkness, the dementia
all fed her, led her to her destination delirious
and without a look back she plunged into the
belly of the whale, the ocean swell, and became
a part of the vastness of her emptiness.
Back to where she longed to be...
Drinking in the salty brine, she felt her gills
take form and as her fins appeared, she
swam away to serenity.
Poetry by Kathy Lockhart
Read 1208 times
Written on 2008-04-19 at 08:45
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)