This piece self-animates furiously, pain seeping from every scorched pore. It deserves an airing, a sharing.  Here is the link to the original, upon which the reblog button exists, but is not working properly, hence my copy and paste – http://robbrownaswood.wordpress.com/2014/02/05/growing-glowing-gone/

 

FIRE GLINTING IN THE EYES OF DEMENTED PROMETHEUS

 

Earthly scintillating delights spiraling hues at the watcher’s gaze. Spires rising ever higher, jaggedly licking this way and that. The sputtering brazen flames dance and cavort over crackled feed. The petulant demon reveling inside gleefully glares at the rhythmic fire farce. Beautiful in it’s sinister dance, the amber tongues lap away at languid obsidian skies. Hear, hear, it speaks, it tells frightful tales of destruction and lore to that malevolence deep within the suffering slave.

Owned by the flames, tantalized by shadow dances and elegant twists. The wailing flux burns ever brighter, burns and blazes hot red in his eyes, excited twinkling showing the way to pain and vile, groans and grows doth the spark in the wide pupils. These whispers that come about, behind the ears, traveling light on scattered winds, secretly secrete wishes of immeasurable horror. Ghastly orders to roast and devour in orgasmic reverie, singeing flesh and bone as fits of terror-come-grief dot the bleak future.

Sailing cries rush forth from all angles, drowning scorched fields in desolation surround sound. The mother’s tearful howls and swan songs drift over every inch; nothing arises but that mournful wail in an unforgiving night swirling with the crackles of laughing embers.

And we all laugh. Laugh at the dull ache and cancerous pain sweeping over charred existence. For bodies rend asunder and turned into crispy rolls of wasted flesh and sinew. The aftermath nothing but a chance of fortune, a wild game played with unwilling pawns caught in the wake of power plays. The air passes into darkness, thick with melancholic smoke redolent of burning doors and funeral pyres.

Please no, God no, the awakening pawns gnash and scream out at unforgiving smoldering heaps, curses let loose at unseen monsters. The savagery, the grief, overbearing and constantly gushing from these humps of volcanic emotion. They are soon spent, nothing is left in these masses of hanging torpid flesh. Squeals and howls leave them as losses settle in, tormenting and dementing sickly lambs beaten thin. Scorched earth, manic silence, death and desire make the night unfurl. Too much pain to no more pain the fatal lasting burn.

 

BY ROBBROWNASWOOD