Catalyst

Sleep deprivation. This came from the twisted aether of my mind with little warning or explanation. Chock full of weird, grotesque imagery and existential dread.

Primordial womb
The remnants of dead celestial bodies
Your corpses sprawled before nothingness, too many instances
Of why this universe could never be called sane

You were cracked through the middle, holding the end
Of a promise in your decaying fingernails
And I didn't pry, no
A music box left unwound
For fear that the song will return
Louder and crueler than before
Thin notes rupturing the palpating organ
That knows when your soul is no longer yours

Stardust ignited, gathered in a mindless fist
Boiled under floorboards in the house with no doors
Until the boards flew free from the pressure
A wound in the earth
A fissure
Discord, a mistake that made us come alive
Silver filaments bending limbs unnaturally
Strings cutting through creased joints
Polluted rivers running on white-washed canvas

Eat and eat and eat
Until the Catalyst returns
And decimates what is left
Makes us want oblivion again
We were locked together, always
Like little paper dolls
Until the world tore us apart
Separate in the Void again
Fetal and unformed

We carry the dead through boundless shadowlands
They are long-bodied and with spongy mushroom skin
But with diamond teeth that gnash when disquieting sounds
Shudder sickeningly through the undergrowth
The snapping twigs remind one of what its like to have
Bones broken again and again
Never setting right, never normal
Part of me never stopped screaming

The frost muffles it, you see, and the fog hides these gashes
So I still look pretty and no one knows until they get close
Or grow a pair of eyes to see the spectrum of 
Flaws, poison spores flitting like dancers

No matter how much you dig you can always go
A little deeper
No matter how much you cry you can always weep
A little longer, harder
Nourish what waits in the house with no doors
And maybe it will give you rest

A Catalyst, my orphaned work in progress
Stitches hanging from a mouth that coughs soot
And the bile we collected for millenia
Help me understand what ails you
We can't fix you
Unless you tell us why you're wrong

It won't fix us
We must take this needle and thread
And patch ourselves together
Lest we become another filthy mess of rags
In its deserted dollhouse

The End

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