Haunted hunter

A mournful tune to play as the bones buckle.
The hum inside your gums while the night lingers on.
What sound called to you, rose you from that grave of regret.
We sit and watch the world tip over, spun into a dizzying dervish and lost in the mind of God.
These darkened eyes that haunt you, casting casualties and consequence.
Do you leave them to turn to stone?
To honey up and glaze like the milky itch of remorse?
How heavy the skin of the idle.
Bleached into the alien grey like driftwood on a beach.
Turn on that apology and settle into an xstatic rhythm.
Shaken from the willows of the wilds. Shaking stars and dust from your mind.
The black swan which follows you, cries out for change.
Etiolated in the darkening world you occupy.
Be still its cries of the dying, the call for collapse.
For this flightless bird of paradise craves warmer climates.
And a world much brighter than our own.


3 thoughts on “Haunted hunter

  1. “Be your black swan, black swan
    We are black swans, black swans”
    Good to recognize blind spots.
    Love this and shaken the willows from the wild pops out and so does the alien grey like driftwood.
    It’s a gloomy world and a feeling of trying to shake out of the skin of derealization/depersonalization, or what I call “the hydra of skin”

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oooh i like the hydra of skin, fascinatingly vicious. It is hard to break away from something or a way of being; but then there are opportunities every day to change your consciousness. The devil made being lazy too damn easy. And of course, people get crushed like biscuit crumbs all the time. Glad you liked this one.

      Liked by 2 people

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