Crawling out of the last skin of fire…by G. Mramor


Crawling out of the last skin of fire, heavy in an erasing vapour climbing up my spine burrowing in the oblivion of my mind, I break a cry, out to you ancestral home, and you come, you in your myriad voices you in your myriad screams you in all the myriad horror of end, to speed on the devouring, to raise up my last sight to that house that horror that mansion on the hill, breathing black hulking stone gaunt white-faced to eternity that house where fathers die and mothers cry, so I say if you shall not breath me life so then breath me absolute death adore me in all the raiments of end take my eyes take my heart take my blood and save me only the black I will make my home here and yearn up nevermore fore I will not battle you force of apocalypse I will not frown in the invisible arms of my ancestors I will not fall away into thoughts so dark as to do away all memory of once’s fury no I say to you voices to you erasing vapour to you no If I am to have no home then go ahead take me into the mansion on the hill I’ll become the patient stone

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