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|alastar (profile) wrote, |
on 10-27-2005 at 10:35pm
|Subject: Something that should have been written a long time ago, and has now faded in clarity in the back of my mind from lack of use; atrophy.
-like a thousand snakes slithering, slipping, and sliding through my muscles, tasting me with serrated tongues.
-like a thousand beatles skittering, scratching, and slashing through my nerves, sticking me with lacerating teeth.
And yet the shovel strikes the pile once more, lifts an unbearable weight, and empties itself into the mouth of the dragon. Must keep feeding. Must keep the fire alive.
A thousand shovels pierce the piles of coal to the beating of wings and the rhythm of the hungry growls.
|Anonymous:||(this user logs IP addresses)|