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Amber Coated Shards of Saelokit

I have been beneath the water, hands bruised with the reaching outwards to the boats trailing past. Seeking Others hands only to find iron laced at Their wrists,delusion and spite caught in their teeth. Mine gaze is cast in fractured opals and mine ankles intertwined in the serpentine ropes of seaweed. I do not drown in this state,only dream of Awakening with mine Beloved's strong arms about me. His lips upon mine tasting of the musked flora of Angels.

::Skin of Innocence::
I breathe a deep breath inward to at last slip mine toes into the woven rugs of mine world...to hang the mirrored tribal tapestry marking mine wall of slumber. I have claimed a roof and walls in the South, within an unknown city yet to be tread upon. It shall wait outside the door and windows there, weaving in upon itself for I shall curl here for a wee bit. Unlock the trunks and scent...slip mine hands inside what I have not known since the Storm raped "Home" from mine very back. This soil is stable, the Gods move so intricate here their breath is heavy nectar scented upon mine neck.
Uhlume slumbers so deeply, wolf gaze glinted as a child. V. comes in tall and stretching to steal a shard and flee, hide it in the corners. Such sacred treasures, He senses are all His to inherit.
What do I vow for this unwinding Future coming down the path...?
May Strength come and wrap Her arms about me, hold tight and sure.
May Love wind inside over the distance from mine Beloved and heal mine heart of jade, so ravaged...curl from mine and into His ribcage and keep Us sacred.
May Hope come out from beneath the floorboards and take mine fingers so softly in Hers to intertwine with the dew soaked stems of flowers.
May the Widows take up their loom from gnarled fingers hidden in dust coated frocks.
May Fate be wooed with chocolates and strings to Bless mine brow, braid a lock of Her fire coloured tresses into mine to mark the hour.
I wish the world to each of You and I am Coming...No,reach outwards for mine wrist...I am already Here.
Let the sin of Hate fall away, mine gaze glinted ash...I have been far too long in the feral grave.

I have been Underneath,slipped where mine hands only scrawled with inks.
Mine tread has been slight and crooked,upon the railroad tracks and crossroads.
Tracing the olden pathways of mine days as a girl-child I have come to look the Truth in the eye and acknowledge the tripping and lost mannerisms.
Seeking to forgive in Healing, the mirror remains with clouds sliding through reflection.
This Solitude I am within and the Dreaming glints the hollows in the corner and mine wrists are caught.
I remain amongst the Plains where the Depression never passed onward from this soil. The dust still coats the eyelids and pockets are worn thin with the sorting for silver...oil stained fingertips.
I cluck mine tongue and with sideways lidded gaze pray for Departure. O,yes.
I shall Breathe and trace upon this Amber Glass in the Now as the key is imprinted upon mine palm.

::Rooted Oceanic::
The Shamans have cast their lot and with much clacking of teeth and tongues have chosen to take V. in the hour of Aquarius, on the vibration of Thirteen. To breathe His first breath of Life in this gossamer world. Too soon if one clocks the hours of a womb. Mine flesh has fatally been deteriorating at a lightning pulse and at the crossroads I lock the skeleton key deep into mine palm, blind to the outcome. I have an entire pulsing glowing world to breathe for and it is this which places mine spine to the stones,toe curled into the soil. Mine gaze holds the secret of sacrifice as I slip underneath,longing to ask for the taking of mine hand yet I only shine as a coward with Pride serpentine and a sideways glinted smile.
Selfish the hooks come around mine knees and wrists, alike to a boat in the moorings bound creaking against the ropes I remain astounded at the mirror worlds of Others. Still; I forgive and scuttle about for a shard from mine ribcage...a gift sewn deep within mine frock pocket and offer it backwards. When there is but only ash and bone shards shall even this be sought to be held or cast deep between the roots of the magnolia tree for the gathering...?
The Gods have uttered laughing that they may not intervene of this ridiculous damage, placing sacred gifts about mine neck with little else to do but spin the stark visions and shake their heads. I,too, have chosen to be only amused and await the outcome.
There is only the tapping of mine toes dancing trickster like and the blood is but scarlet silk ribbons, the glow of mine orbs merely the stars caught reflected. Survival is simply the slight of hand I keenly mastered as a girl-child, a breath and a heel to the pathway with a cast of chocolates for Fate and I am slipped away to drown into the Never.
Rebirth. He is Coming.

.Ashen Stained Fingertips.
This flesh is as an amber flicker formed and I await the verdict, the precise blade and wonder if Strength shall come to press Her spine to mine...will Hope whisper the sweet utterings to return and dust mine eyelids with butterflies to carry me through..?
I am fondling the gutting of this glass world, in a form of Purity cleansing all trace of The Tribe of Anguis and Our once Passage. Certainly it is a sacred ritual though it only alters the perception of that which is hunted,gathered and gnawed upon by Others whom never knew the vibration within Our ribcages out in the savage journey beneath the stars. So too would this but let the already frayed bindings fall to release in the Now. M deserves such at mine side, though He never sorts through this glass orb and knows Belief in Truth unharmed.
Still, Z. & I deserve the echo haunt release upon each of Our pathways, even so late in the hour.
Do I stitch blind mine eyelids and simply trickster slant with swift hand a new form or as one take the entire gather of shards and with the proper burial into the Never..?
I long to spit on none nor pretend that such never existed...only Release the last ashen ghosts.
We recall and is that not enough Blood for each of Our lives woven through gnarled hands in the Pattern..?
The Widows only scent of Sorrow and sideways slip avoid mine gaze when I boldly inquire in the corners.
I catch myself wicked then and utter but one silken word; "V." which sends Them aflutter like birds simpering,glowing,stitching.
With one breath I realize how small and flecked it All becomes, merely an eyelash upon the tongue.

::Reptilian Sea::
It is the Gods whom have come forth, carving visions behind mine eyelids with Tooth and Feather.
Stone and Blood.
I awaken stark in the scrying, patterned with bruises and teeth marked. There is Sobek whom has been rather fierce with constant intrigue of mine aquatic passage through the Dreamscape.
Beyond this, I have been breathing underneath and gathering for the coming moments. Mine tread has come along as worn and traced, though few recognize the feathered sigils within to sense the slip of hooves.
Locking gaze, matching breath as mine wrists are encircled by the Widows clicking their tongues akin to angels. V. stretches in the Becoming, M. glowing intertwined at mine side and sacred U at Our feet. I wonder of the magnolia tree root cradle at this touch and simply believe in the crooked decipher as each Entity places their mark at mine brow & ankle.

'Cause I love you so and your so good to me
I'm going to plant a magnolia tree
and it will grow tall, we will grow old
then I will dig us a deep wide hole
at the magnolia tree
and I will go first, then you will join me
there in the shade of the magnolia tree
you in a dress and me in a suit
we'll lie together in the tangled root of a magnolia tree
and our flesh will rot but our bones will not scatter
the roots of that tree will bind us together
in life we're married by preacher and church
in death we'll be married in rich black earth by a magnolia tree
and when we are gone our children will come
in the pouring rain and the burning sun
they will find comfort in our memory
in the shade and shelter under that tree
the magnolia tree'
~Truckstop Honeymoon


I have been underneath glass, the musk of soil moist between mine toes. All have come through as muffled, the tongues foreign and benign.
Miss Tamastara, mine beloved daughter-of-fur passed beyond flesh into Death. It is of mourning which hangs about mine shoulders. A spider slipped venom as trickster and swiftly She slipped secretly from beyond those amber wolf orbs.
This hour of the Dreamscape hunts to reveal mine journey forth to the vibration of Home upon mine lips, the slick cobblestones in decay at heel. Haunted. I wonder at what awaits therein as I have allowed a full passage of distance between yet now the hour echoes to Return. I shall gather the means, ache to breathe in this skin anew with eyelashes stitched too wide.
The Piscean hour drums the birthing, heartbeat quick with Life.
We remain Glowing pure, interlocked into essence and I yet wonder through the stench of blood how ever did mine path cross to such an amazing Union through destruction.

Glass spired
V. is Coming.
V. is Here.

"I told it fast an glad
The color of a slow drink
Or so they say
So they say by the light of day
Hidden 'neath their wings
Of black, brown and grey

The boughs they all will bend for us
An all the earth awaits thee
All the stones they will cry out
An every tongue confess thee

An though the word yes it falls on deaf ears
It is spoken just the same
The word it stands
Looks straight at every man
From kings down to the lay"
~David Eugene Edwards

::Solitude Vultured::
The Dreamscape evades mine breath in this hour even as the wolves curl stretched and mine Beloved Mars long and crooked embraces mine every essence, the tremors still gut as the Dead & Demons place gifts at mine door, sly utterings of pathways revealed and the demise of Others. I turn such lovely glints into Their very own hands and know All shall find the mark intended. I am casting with a certainty, realizing the blessing of the destruction as All is glowing with carven sigils and I am at last released into the Blood of Chaos.
I Remain.
The blood ashes are coated in stench as the dreadlocks and photographs become another form, woven through mine fingers and toes. The musk of copal and sage purify mine very skin.
I Awaken.
The scars traced are not of Betrayal & Lust, but of Truth and Belief. In Solitude mine orbs are far too intense with All which is taken within and mine throat never formed the translation. So I accept and with laughter of the outcome,simply take hold of the Burning glory.
The gorgeous blackbirds gather so very near to mine every movement, I stretch to listen to the symbolism in their chatter as they track mine gaze.
To the count of Seven I am of Healing and Strength has Her leather straps about mine shoulderblades as I take up the skein and weave these tatters into mirrored depths. Yes,yes. The Widows trace mine veins to know the pattern as I glow.
We are interlocked in the Creation as the roadways are as mosaic with ichor.

Emerald Glint
Struggling with slight of hand with the Scientists I remain suspended underneath, the amber of mine eyelids flecked and panic is just beneath; fluttering. Survival is as ever, just in reach if only the pieces would shudder slam into place and mine inner has begun to unravel with just that tattered thread.
I am in the sphere of a different city, borrowed a corner to sift and pace within as the hourglass is looking a wee bit lean and hollow.
All which I hold sacred is keeping the children-of-fur without sharpened ribcage and so very safe and sideways grinning
that no shattered Hope will tug on sweet pointed ears, gnaw on tufts of fur and tail.
Mine heels and toes are beyond dancing in the Now, I am quite furiously rushing with the bitters stinging mine doubt.
Of this, mine gaze has taken a backwards glint glancing to this fistful of Time past and All which has been laid at mine toes with what seems as little care nor honour by the Trusted and I may only let it All slip through mine hands. Kiss the distance cold and embrace the Now.