Diana Toman
Mitglied
Night of Negation
A sudden panic swiftly scurries through the fallen leafs.
Weeping vapors dance through shadowed places. Razor-sharp ripples slice through the tensed autumnal air. In desolate trees crows awaken. Beaks filled with black cries lift through the crimsoned twilight.
The iron-fisted night drowns our arrogant prayers for light. Under our feet the fallen leafs are fraught with final farewells. Piteous moans grope through gutters searching for discarded faces. We mutter inglorious litanies inspired by freaks on paltry pedestals while rains prepare the crushing dusk for dark nocturnal benedictions. The still-point gathers momentum - a cold, relentless Absolute: the noxious night of negation.
Somewhere: a child's dream is pierced by battered shrieks.
Blood congeals in silvery tendrils framed by stiffening snow.
Finally, from somewhere an angel advances
uselessly flapping slime-encrusted wings.
The butcher's rough and calloused hands
Close round the slender neck.
Silhouetted sentries stutter through the spasm of silence,
toxic with the flatulent breath of eternity; floorboards groan
under the weight of a vast knowing.
From cavernous wardrobes spills colossal sadness.
Darkness tangles into a swollen knot onto which the soul is twisted.
A sudden panic swiftly scurries through the fallen leafs.
Weeping vapors dance through shadowed places. Razor-sharp ripples slice through the tensed autumnal air. In desolate trees crows awaken. Beaks filled with black cries lift through the crimsoned twilight.
The iron-fisted night drowns our arrogant prayers for light. Under our feet the fallen leafs are fraught with final farewells. Piteous moans grope through gutters searching for discarded faces. We mutter inglorious litanies inspired by freaks on paltry pedestals while rains prepare the crushing dusk for dark nocturnal benedictions. The still-point gathers momentum - a cold, relentless Absolute: the noxious night of negation.
Somewhere: a child's dream is pierced by battered shrieks.
Blood congeals in silvery tendrils framed by stiffening snow.
Finally, from somewhere an angel advances
uselessly flapping slime-encrusted wings.
The butcher's rough and calloused hands
Close round the slender neck.
Silhouetted sentries stutter through the spasm of silence,
toxic with the flatulent breath of eternity; floorboards groan
under the weight of a vast knowing.
From cavernous wardrobes spills colossal sadness.
Darkness tangles into a swollen knot onto which the soul is twisted.