A/N : a chaotic amalgamation of pieced-together words, not unlike a monster akin to that of Frankenstein. argh.
suffocation
asphyxiation
suffocating heat,
thermal,
kinetic energy
burning through heated palms
unreleased, unharnessed
claret cocktail laden with a chemical soup of erythrocytes,
red and white,
pulsating//pumping/ /circulating -th-th-thumping a constant percussion to the rhythm of life
beats traveling to tips of toes, tapping out a restless, relentless, racing rhythm
r-r-r-rubatosis, the unsettling awareness of the beating of your heart, at tempo
accelerando!
sweat, cooling clammy palms
already heated to temperatures
considered
inferno incarnate
perhaps even able to restore a hypothermia-stricken from their frozen, possibly near-catatonic, state
(but perhaps not medically proven in the realm of science, yet. yet.)
cold is by far a preference in which she could indulge in
the contrast
of
pleasant
warmth
instead of the blanketing suffocation
of
heat.
like a fever, excess heat and energy having no conduit to travel through
the circuit being the veins, capilliaries and arteries
the batteries consisting of ludicrously high voltage--the battery, the pulsating heart,---a source of restless energy and constant fuel
and the resistance--
perhaps
the energy-sapping heat?
she'd prefer
the cold suffuse through her toes like permafrost
the wind a slap of needling ice
and for the frost to creep into her veins
like encroaching glaciers
and still have the gall to down ice cream, were it available to her.
fevers can cause delirium
but within the cold her thoughts
condense and crystallize
clear
the surface of a frozen-over pond
like frosted glass
reflection gazing steadily back from a naturally formed mirror.
heat pulsates through her veins
through fingers, conduit now pen to paper, black ink spilling onto
white
in dim lighting shadows cast about, askew as if it werecluttered chaos of an office's secretarial paperwork, the honey glow of a small lamp
inelegant scrawl, disregarding pre-placed lines in every way whatsoever, a small act of defiance
heat traveling from an area of higher to lower concentration
sealing (infusing) within the inscribed symbols
claiming as home
one by one by one
for the passion that had ignited them, every one, like the flaring ignition of a lighter in ashen solitude of the wilderness
causing an inferno
(w-w-w-wildfire!)
that could not be quelled,
no,
the heat
warmth
burning, burning burning smouldering blazing
is there to stay.
and that in itself kindles something warm and foreign and strange in her heart. something old, something new, something borrowed, something red where sparks blew.
she supposed she could always take the heat.
playing with fire could get you burned, but--
she was never afraid in breathing the ashes of the aftermath.
YOU ARE READING
a litany of ruminations
Poetry{poetry collection} s c a t t e r e d dreams and drifting thoughts, oh, not everything is what it seems... (not necessarily from my own thoughts)
