a tired bloom

Dehydrated corpuses, those capitulating dead flair, encircle the tired mind, lascivious when thinking of boundaries and limitations. Sleek feathered dust mites crawl, carrying an agonizing hubris over a yolky film; eyes a horizon spin an array of explosive shadow and shade through slotted capillaries. Trapped in a familiar schism. Vertigo takes over. No cell is safe. A rabbit flits between gravestones, leaving behind a trail of noxious fumes. Gashed up and bleeding, Melody’s sour disposition plastered to the tune of clarity. Ready for a show. Climbing the hill. Grasping at straws. Rattle the bars. Tangled lace unfurls. Down. Further. Furthest. The pit is warm and friendly, even a little courageous. In the centre is a red tunnel, she is in the centre. Maybe she had a sister. Maybe she had a mother. Tumbling down naked. Waiting for the rapture. ‘Hey’ she repeatedly flicked open and closed the cap of her zippo lighter, nervous left leg shaking the graze on her knee. ‘It’s been a w

PART I BEFORE THE MELTDOWN i With every waking moment, in every oblivion, there is an awareness so damp that it slips even as the sun beats down upon the disintegrated terrain of yesterday. Sullied by long decomposed cartilage, a landscape outstretched across several continents comprised mainly of a sedimentary type of nostalgia had been rolled earthen and shut solid. Now, trodden over for centuries by generations of blissfully unaware children, obsessed with empty glory and prone to sensory deceit, there is nothing of sustenance left. The final kinetic shudder ever recorded had rustled the wind out of perception, pushing hot air into alleyways, causing buildings to shudder an electric and vibrant flavour the colour of poison out into the streets. It is from this scattered rubble our companionship had formed. Oppressive were the diffused remnants, somewhere they had even managed to reach a pack of howling wolves out in the middle of the tundra. Bloodshot eyes prowled reeds cov