Wednesday, October 6, 2010

in the begining

in the beginning, there was nothing but a tiny little glowworm of a thought inching around the darkness.
scrabbling fingers, fumbling for a pen in the dark.
a flicker and scratch of a match, the smell of flickering light.
a slight glow, warming cold fingers, puddles of dripping wax, oozing into shapes. a scratchy start, word crossed out and rethought, a glowworm frantically flashing around, to escape being pinned down.
a fleeting glimpse of a person in the candlelight; a yellowed shadow.
people and places begin to whisper around and stale the air with their crowded smell.
befuddlement, crowded thoughts and noisy lonely people and horses and carriages and shiny trains with automated voices that say everything wrong. the remenants of a day dredge themselves onto paper.
lonely worlds echo into the words and lonely smiles seep into the ink.
the candle melts away and white neon light burns into everything, searing it and tainting the carriages and yellowed faces.
and the glowworm inches away
to be captured
by someone else, another day.
when neon lights blind the skies
and inspiration turns into a tubelight on a metallic wall. 

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