You sit shoulders back, dignified and uncovered

in shallow water. Salient tears in stalactite formations

form a picture of resistant, defiant, mascara stained

insolence, while tangible figures frolic around you like


around the first fire. A scent reminiscent of mordacious

distress, diseased resignation surrounding them.

Their dark shadow-like reach dissolving as they

close in, arms spinning, wandering, weaving , leaving


behind a vanishing landscape; a whitened empty expanse.

A sinister bend, a corruption through openness,

they seek to overwhelm, bury you in insignificance.

But this is your epitomic moment, your storybook


climactic event. Here, among the damned, wanting

to condemn you to silent acquiescence, you will

stand naked and powerful out of tepidness, dripping

impudence from your skin and open your mouth,screaming


discordant sounds, greens and blues, streaming and dismissive.

There is no fear in darkness, no fearless love, no loving darkness

to oppress you. You have learned, been cut and bruised by the crushing

loneliness that comes with understanding. They cannot hurt you.


They own faded substance, can only obscure and delay.

And you in your hard-water wisdom will wash them aside.

About fenster

There are some who call me, Tim?

2 responses to “Overthrow”

  1. Soledad says :

    This is amazing.

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