Post by anirbas on Aug 23, 2006 7:27:31 GMT -6
From the glaringly lit room,
came a scream, that was more,
the animalistic roar
of anguished rage;
the amplified sound
of a ripped page,
from the rictus of her
pain stretched lips,
a bellow tore.
As this world slipped,
past her fingertips;
dimmed softly about the edges,
then grayed into disappearance,
before her disbelieving eyes.
The blackness, gobbled her up,
without further hindrance,
or sidestepping,
mincing ado.
"We've lost this one."
She heard a disembodied voice say.
"It'll soon be two."
Came the spectral reply.
While she free-floated
in the nascent void,
thinking-
if this were the tomb,
it felt more like the womb.
Which strangely,
she could now recall,
with utmost clarity.
The ability
to speak, taste, smell,
touch or feel,
gone.
As tho' never
having been there.
She could only think and hear.
In death, finally,
a detached observer,
to the machinations of life;
it's inherent,
human shared strife.
This last,
physically working sense,
stubbornly refused to cease audio-ing.
Disrupting,
cutting asunder,
her peaceful, otherworld revery.
The cry of a mortally wounded,
cherebim angel,
did her drifting soul entangle,
with it's invisible,
coiled umbilicus;
bungee cording her spirit
back to this dimension.
Slamming her back,
onto the pain racked shores
of her helpless body,
and this dimension.
Born again...
-Sabrina
came a scream, that was more,
the animalistic roar
of anguished rage;
the amplified sound
of a ripped page,
from the rictus of her
pain stretched lips,
a bellow tore.
As this world slipped,
past her fingertips;
dimmed softly about the edges,
then grayed into disappearance,
before her disbelieving eyes.
The blackness, gobbled her up,
without further hindrance,
or sidestepping,
mincing ado.
"We've lost this one."
She heard a disembodied voice say.
"It'll soon be two."
Came the spectral reply.
While she free-floated
in the nascent void,
thinking-
if this were the tomb,
it felt more like the womb.
Which strangely,
she could now recall,
with utmost clarity.
The ability
to speak, taste, smell,
touch or feel,
gone.
As tho' never
having been there.
She could only think and hear.
In death, finally,
a detached observer,
to the machinations of life;
it's inherent,
human shared strife.
This last,
physically working sense,
stubbornly refused to cease audio-ing.
Disrupting,
cutting asunder,
her peaceful, otherworld revery.
The cry of a mortally wounded,
cherebim angel,
did her drifting soul entangle,
with it's invisible,
coiled umbilicus;
bungee cording her spirit
back to this dimension.
Slamming her back,
onto the pain racked shores
of her helpless body,
and this dimension.
Born again...
-Sabrina
