The Clime

Led to believe were they. Some were led to believe that Lie was owed. Sewed with misinformation, those inned against zen listness. Four skulls on the far reaches of the crossed beams faced the inquest, and fourteen, turned in to the four inner corners, conversed, the dead between the dead. Inadequate and shaken, the sure showed the damage dealt the undeserved: A narrow series of cubes and rectangles, screen grated, turned back and forth at right angles in the length of a horizontal climb; all to break bone and grind nerves. Eighteen of the best thought to free a suicidal's victim, yin lured into a steal trap, only to shove unwarranted pain onto the champion of the unvictimized, one who would save another Ophelia. Explanations fell from lips through the air to clang on the floor. In a cold concrete room a prone marble statue still welcomed curses and little dances, quickly delineating and listing every ill will for every vice, in series, to push through into the beyond and sever the effigial prisoner from all hope and means of social, even physical, survival. One teardrop could pull down strings, and then waves of sadness, but not this time. The catbird recompensees, so believed, snatched and plucked hard earned fruits of labor from around the accused, careful to describe the act as liberation of ill gotten gains. All this, the untaintable covenant in practice, shamed by a 22 year running deceit, a 16 year fatality wrought by it, and good people nicked by the brazenness of scum gaming the hints, a warrior fears it not. True, noble, innocent, no matter how once mistaken or mislabeled, those adamant qualities do not tarnish once polished and honed. The light of that spirit burns into those dark corners of silence where latchers on practiced nasty gibbering from envy, and for oozing, bubbling joy. Balanced on the two hanging plates of a scale set atop a centered podium, pastillas for humanitarian need. On the one side malcontents in big finance leveraged the administration process to torment the man, a perceived threat, and the gift of pain relief became a snake oil, chirping enders of silence once fulcromed, magnifiers of internal contemplations and doubts, while in opposition the benign effects of common pseudo-endorphins expanded into yawning gulfs of ulceritic churning that swallowed all serenity, and even strong artistic thoughts, willed into existence with care only to vanish without the slightest cosmic ripple. The entwined serpents witness no broken vows, yet the treachery slithers, taken hold amid simple misconceptions and thriving on the viscosity of social tendencies, remained in motion. The hierarchy of the truly pristine witnessed and could only tut-tut, for the grand of burden find humor in the weightlessness, and those weighed to have carried no share point to what thought a mountain and triumph in the efforts they stacked in that place.
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Symbols of Decay is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License..
Related written works at Angelfire, Sex Symbols, Cymbals of Silence.Repent or Die