your favorite one

A. Romano
A. Romano
Aug 23, 2017 · 2 min read

Tangled and gnarled,
Deliberately spun and carefully dried,
It has no beginning and it has no end.
But it stops just as soon as it starts.

Stretching and twisting,
Contorting itself into the most wretched forms,
It repeats itself, and then repeats itself again.
But not once does it take itself seriously.

Convulsions and pulsations,
A thousand tales,
Each without a corresponding head.
Smokestacks of earth consume themselves.
The staircase loses itself in you.

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,”
But they were wrong.
Because we had nothing left that they could take.
And that was our only sin.

Clinging too tightly,
Thrashing and clawing,
It numbs itself as it continues to gnaw.
But it has no sense of direction, and for that it is regretful.

Slithering and sliding,
It fit into the tiniest of cracks.
But by the time you could notice it,
It was already gone.
It didn’t matter, because it had been warped beyond recognition.

Facing dirt and dust,
Spiraling and snapping into and out of place,
It continues, and then it continues again.
But you have no say in the matter.

Clattering chains and rattling metal,
Stretched from the sky all the way up to the ground.
You don’t know it yet, but it will defeat you.
Although, you can certainly feel that your days are running short.

It disgusts you, but you can’t look away.
It horrifies you, and you continue to be drawn in.
Undertow at your head and riptide at your feet,
You count the stars on a cloudy night.

Pumping veins as your blood thicks out,
Figures dance in your head,
But they don’t know what to say,
So you keep to your path.

Spindle pin cut beneath the eyeball,
But all you can do is listen,
Because the time to speak up has long since passed.
Unfortunately for you, the gates remain swollen shut.

Clicking into position and locked into place,
It is at once terrifying and hypnotizing.
This won’t be your last fever dream, nor will it be the worst.
Your moment is still yet to come.

But you don’t care, or at least you pretend not to.
They know what you’re thinking,
But you’re too scared to ask.
So you buckle your teeth.

Fear has no place but it finds its way in.
Pressurized impatience, stolen from your entire body.
You do not want to fight it, but the bell has already squealed.
Draw your last breath, because it will be your favorite one.

)
A. Romano

Written by

A. Romano

https://agenderdeconstructed.tumblr.com/

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