Taken Past The Pergatory
By: Rebecca Bleschke
Into the depths of the mind
lie secret crevices of thought
literally twisted in turmoil
emotion a vivid memory encrypted into physical friction
tears welled up and dried at the edges of sanity
blood crusted to the edges of my veins
brittle heartbeats pound against my chest
the void of depression leaks like thick liquid into my eyes
and anyone whom gazes upon them shall fall into the abyss as did I.
Broken doll faces splash into water
and little teardrops fall after them.
Vivid white lace with spilled blood upon its threads
entwined ribbons keep hold of long-kept secrets and treasures.
Tarnished photographs and dust-ridden boxes
rag draped cloth and old frame glasses
each of its own captive energy
holding in each a haunted facet.
An old battered mirror stands like a window to another memory.
Items as doorways to the unrestful world
of sick and diseased hearts that were left to linger.
their fingernails grasp at the slightest caress of the shadows
for the shadows entwine both worlds together;
The world of the light and thine of the dark.
a putrid scent wafers the air
the stench of unwilling death and things left forgotten against their desire.
The crisp walls of separation between these dimensions
fall humble at the hour between days, when solid walls fray
then the stale eyes of the mournful dead enclose upon normal sight
and show you what they have seen.
ripples thru time and beats of the heart
the falling of a girl's hair to the ground of hell.
her lips twitch in sick delight
for she has finally reached a destination
if any at all.
whispers, she utters, to the unhearing ear
her eyes speak of sorrow and horrors unimaginable.
she lifts her finger, and from the top:
her skin breaks open to reveal blood of black color.
she smiles a knowing smile
with sad understanding for why she was what she was
and why she was here
she reaches out her hand, and it slips thru the mirror's silvery surface
and touches my arm.
she begs with her heart for me to join her.
calling with her mind to me, someone who has shared her pain, heard her
whispers, felt her fear.
the touch of her fingers turns my skin cold,
and anxiety tingles thru me.
but the pain of my heart tearing in 2 pieces,
for the girl who has shared my pain in equal measure,
who has seen the world and known it's horror,
grasps my entire being;
and guides me thru the glassy side of the pain.
where ice freezes my sorrow
and fire burns it away.
