The heavy cloud thundering grey and purple
Pushing and pinching on top
Claws splitting, digging my chest
Won’t go away. Won’t go away.
The helpful voices cover their eyes
Mutter and chant desperately
See no evil. Hear no evil. Speak no evil.
But it’s burrowing in, lip-licking and sucking
I’m listening out but it won’t go in
My eye births water
Falls and streams down through forests
Twitching jaded limbs
I’m in a Charcoal Mood
Black sooty mouth
Watering when you
Panic in the dark
Feels like I can hear
Tick. Tick. Tick
Like a weary clock
The shooting pang
Makes my teeth
I just have too many words in my mouth, in my mind
Said the Seashell Seeker.
I want somebody to listen to me but there is nobody.
There is nobody there on chalky moon cliffs
Pale, grassy crags or sloshing rocks
The foaming toothy inhales and exhales are too busy
Making their own sounds.
The Seashell Seeker was alone.
Sinking into the grey at the bottom
Salty tears reaching and joining their salt-spray cousins
And it was Sad.
It bit the Seashell Seeker on the foot,
They winced but picked it up.
The wind wheezed out at the Seashell Seeker
and all the words clattered and boiled inside
The Seashell Seeker whispered the words into
Letting them silently whisk away
Through sandy twists and curls. Smooth and soft.
The Seashell Seeker shivered scared
By words that fell out ugly, stinking blood-rich and black-dribble.
They danced through the seashells into a charcoal black smoke.
Now it was beautiful.
The Seashell Seeker sighed
In sync with the sea
And it was so dark,
But at last
She was free