CCC #72
They hung about her neck
like thick links of leaded chain.
The callused whelps of necessity
having given offshoot
to those of lesser girth
each suckling in kind
from the breast of that
which had gone before
until truth had become
indistinguishable
from fabrication and
she no longer remembered where
fantasy broke off and reality began.
This piece of visual poetry is my response to the photo prompt offered this week on Crimson’s Creative Challenge #72
“Would somebody please tell Aunt Tillie she’s dead!” Mother blurted out breaking the silence of our ordinarily droll morning meet up over weak tea and buttered toast. “I haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in over a week, and frankly, I just don’t know how much more I can bear!”
Without looking away from his morning Post, Father muttered, “Well, she is your sister. I believe that places the burden of truth squarely upon your shoulders.” To which mother groaned loudly in response, causing Father to add, “After all, you’re the only one she seems currently intent on making miserable.”
“Not so.” I voiced rather meekly, my mouth half hidden behind a nervous hand. Father’s morning Post crackled as he lowered it cautiously, just enough to rest his bespectacled eyes directly above the morning market headlines. They widened as he looked from me, to mother, then back at me again.
“Mother didn’t know. I never told anyone. The night she passed, I heard what sounded like someone crying in the attic. I was frightened, but I steeled myself, took a deep breath, put my hand on the doorknob and unlocked the door. When the door opened I felt a presence.”
“As it passed me in the doorway, a small voice whispered something about a gopher or maybe a mole and father’s inner thigh? Oh! I don’t know! It all happened so fast.” Mother’s eyes narrowed. Father ducked quickly behind his Post. And Auntie Tillie? She was never heard from again.
This piece written in 50 word increments is my response to the literary quote provided on this week’s 50 Word Thursday. The quote was, “I took a deep breath, put my hand on the doorknob and unlocked the door.” – Christiana Miller – Somebody Tell Aunt Tillie She’s Dead.
I am want to call it love making. But it was not.
It was animal. It was instinctual. A ritualistic coupling of passion and pain, anger and ecstasy all in such great measure that even in this moment, with that day so long ago and far away, I know not whether it rendered me dead, or I was reborn.
But I do know, that from the moment he unsheathed his passion driven dagger and drove it deep into the tender recesses of my aching, needful flesh- yesterday was long forgotten and the promise of tomorrow? Simply did not exist.
There was only now. There was only us.
Until there wasn’t.
And it is there, that the story of our demise truly begins.
*****************************
The Promise is a song written and performed by American metal band, In This Moment. It was released on their third album, A Star-Crossed Wasteland. The song is a duet featuring In This Moment vocalist Maria Brink and Otherwise vocalist Adrian Patrick.
I have included videos of both the metal studio version and a live acoustic performance so you may enjoy the song as a ballad if the metalcore version does not arise in you- the memories of unquenchable passion that it does in me.
“This song is about when you are madly in love with somebody, but you know that you’re dangerous for that person and vice versa. They’re dangerous for you even though you crave them. You want it more than anything, even though you know it will end badly.” – Maria Brink- Lead vocalist, In This Moment.
The Promise
Its haunting
This hold that you have over me
I grow so weak
I see you
And everything around you fades
And I can’t see
You can never know what it is you do to me
I can’t take what you do to me
I can’t take it
I can’t take what you do to me
I can’t take it
No matter what I say or what I do
I know how this will end
So I turn it away now before we begin
And no matter what you say or what you do
I know how this will end
So I’m turning away now
I’m dangerous for you
I’m dangerous for you
You touch me
And I can barely make a move
And I can’t breathe
You never know what it is you do to me
I can’t take what you do to me
I can’t take it
I can’t take what you do to me
I can’t take it
No matter what I say or what I do
I know how this will end
So I’m turning away now before we begin
And no matter what you say or what you do
I know how this will end
So I’m turning away now
I’m dangerous
The only promise I could make
Is that my promise is a lie
The only promise I could make you
Is that my promise is a lie
No matter what I say or what I do
I know how this will end
So I’m turning away now before we begin
And no matter what you say or what you do
I know how this will end
So I’m turning away now
I’m dangerous for you
I’m dangerous for you
I’m dangerous for you
I’m dangerous for you
I’m dangerous for you
I’m dangerous for you
I’m dangerous, I’m dangerous for you
My promise is I will hurt you
My promise is I will hurt you
My promise is I will hurt you
My promise is I will hurt you
This is my response to Jim Adam’s call for songs containing the words Promise, Vow or Oath on this weeks edition of Song Lyric Sunday.
CCC #71
The hotel has become a ghost town overnight.
Halls and common areas bustling with adventure seekers only weeks ago, are now somber and desolate.
The unforgiving drone of Fox News drowns out any chance of levity, casting its shadow of disease and distress over the common areas and infecting all that come within earshot.
Conversations have been pirated by fear and uncertainty, and although they continue to dot themselves generously with toilet paper punch lines- no one is really laughing- on the inside.
Meanwhile, I smile, apologize appropriately for the absence of our ordinarily amazing continental breakfast buffet, and pass out a meager selection of breakfast foods with all the necessary attention to detail I imagine was given to the rearranging of the deck chairs on the Titanic.
This is my response to the above photo provided by Crispina on her weekly prompt, Crimson’s Creative Challenge.
as i lie awake, at night
in the tv’s after glow
past strung out
like photographs
light flickering, just so…
silent movies
brought to life
on my minds silver screen
celluloid imbued memories
things that may
or may not have been…
accuracy no longer matters
as it all plays out
in black and white
our love affair
edited to perfection…
as i lie awake, at night
Thru Violet's Lentz 
