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Challenge of the Week #58: You are a victim of injustice, write a story about it. The most masterfully written piece, as voted and determined by the Prose team, will be crowned winner and receive $150. Quality beats quantity, always, but numbers make things easier for our judges, so share, share, share with friends, family, and connections. #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit
Cover image for post As Complex As It is Dire, by saulmaciasz
Profile avatar image for saulmaciasz
saulmaciasz
274 reads

As Complex As It is Dire

I took to your skin the way a marionette takes to its strings, obediently: each additional step pinning the weight of a gravitational pull against me, anno domini, until my legs were but stumps of marbled soon to be dynamic reflections of the Gaelic depths of a fiery hellish demonic tongue.

And you, my oh so loved assailant, are but an eye for conservatism, engineering and impersonal rites; Your steps trace Aramaic Easts and agglomerates and metallurgy from the west; Your lips, Imitative sheer fronts, id est an angelic reprise, brand a healing vision so powerful that the purest of victims fall from their floating rafters unto kneeling before such an absence of mind. The way your tongue, leather studded beast of wrath, suckles upon the breast of a poison hemlock, spitting out the seeds as to grow and sprout from my delicate body language, a canvas of a body, a body of canvases. Your words of injustice dance upon the grained soil: sons and daughters of Terpsichore, all forming an inescapable vitriolic circle, complex as it is dire, from which I must leap and escape into the vacant remnants of an emotional dalliance, as to find shelter. My fascination keeps me submissive, INRI (Iesus Nazarenus Rex Iustitiam), to the strings of a drifting cloud, from a browned daisy like vapor your breath exhumes, from the frolicced shards of light, modern tap-dancing entities of goodness, lost along the documentation of time and space that penetrate each and every one of our bodies like a satellite collapsing past spiraling out of control.

ボレアリス (Borealis), I stumbled upon you, incandescently, as I soar along the alleged land of the free with whom I share a thralldom of cyclic, rigid chain reactions.

勇気 (Bravery) allow me to consume you the way a black-wood moth worships the bark and sap of its amber home.

愛 (Love) Possess my body so that you and I may become an impassioned “we”, a coagulation of adjective currents.

許し (Forgiveness) rest upon the tip of my tongue; however, do not make the mistake of vividly showing yourself all at once. Package your humanistic machinery into a gentle box and hide that box within the floor and roof of your brain. 

Allow the constant surge of electricity and truth to guide your every muscle unto betterment, into a better world, gold lashed and divinely suffered,

Forever.

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