Elegy of a pagan prince -
I mean, I'd barely gotten into orbit and I was already missing my family and friends, and even though the stars of the milky way were as vivid and as beautiful as I had ever seen them, truly awe inspiring, breath-taking, I longed for the simple things of earth.
The things that we take for granted every single day.
The things that get eaten up by nothing, consumed by trivialities.
We take life far too seriously, neglecting the most precious elements of our existence, exchanging them for fabrications of truth that we are only to happy to chase all the way into the dirt.
I snapped my own neck because I was tired of it all but the truth is, I chose to look away, I chose not to see the beauty, I chose to chase the madness, to embrace it.
And now, all that I have ever known has fallen forever from sight.
And, I can barely even remember how it felt to love.
If I could only undo that knot, I'd know at once which way to look, and I would look there for the rest of my life.
The house of turpitude -
Sometimes I think that's all we are, an accumulation of broken thoughts that we spend a lifetime trying to put back together, and in the end, when we realise the futility of the task it's too late, and we regret having never lived completely devoid of past afflictions, we regret never having abandoned the ghosts.
Those that only ever pull us into the graves where they alone belong.
Expectedly, after the death of her son, her favourite son, my Father's mother was never the same woman.
After the funeral, she didn't leave her bedroom for months.
Immediately after the prolonged period of catatonia, she began to drink, heavily, and it only got heavier and heavier.
The moor -
I noticed then in the distance, against the back drop of a majestic moon a swirling display of unusually large black creatures rising in flight from the mist of the earth in a rhythmic synchronicity that both captivated and chilled me;
When suddenly that pulsating bunch of black winged things launched into my very direction in a frenzied display, ravens, swooping low overhead in manic successions laughing in taunting squawks at my tragedy in the pouring, belting downpour of freezing rain.
And upon their departure, my own darkness enveloped me like a cunning silk net, I weep as my fleeting fortitude seems to mock my abysmal endeavors to discover and find my beloved Fiorella.
Time Inside the Blood Machine
Is an incredibly vibrant, original collection of contemporary poetry, prose and shorts, that at times exhumes so much feeling and honesty, its hard not to get completely absorbed by the melancholy that D A Ellis so masterfully commits to page.
A MUST READ!!!
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