[Written on 26/7/2016]

He perches on wraith-like tiptoe upon a lilac-clothed apex, engorged in lambent washes of a prodigal effect and breeding chroma-blades that gnaw contours loose and wedge bloated gaps into tautening, hissing junctures of ink.

And from these expunging agencies, a gingerly crowning relish blooms, slathering visions of lush vines and pastel flora across blood-scented corridors, in the chinks of paper bone and the jittery notches of a heaving heart. A blooming conquest tamed, quelled and freed from a silverwood sepulchre, spilled at no tyrant’s behest over a brittle, aching chassis of bio-signs that frolic in timed, nihilistic motion.

The ceaseless pulses of this unworldly incursion send tactile messengers afoot, a cavalry of beacons that plunge sensation into skin and draw secret banshees from their hiding places, screeching ripples and spewing throbs as nerves ascend in frantic benediction.

Never has he felt more alive than this.



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