Post by KitClairvoyance on Mar 20, 2008 1:26:49 GMT -5
Her breath is caught up in
an oxygenated whirl of rose petals,
the thick blanket of grass,
breathing in, in,
as she runs towards the ice-cream van,
asking for an popsicle
"A lemon-flavoured one please,"
extending her hands gratefully
to receive the cylindrical treat,
under the heat of the sun
that combusts and burns the air,
causing her to sweat as
she unwraps the popsicle
and throws the multi-coloured wrapper
into a black pool of melted rainbow
that once lubricated pistons and gears.
She stands amidst a rising wall of temperature
that threatens to spark and ignite,
as she places the popsicle in her mouth
even as the heat that engulfs her
slowly melts it away
leaving the sticky drops running
down her hands in stagnated streams
that soon dry like
grass.
Her eyes are warm with burnt scents,
the horizons of her vision turning into
opaque walls of white tipped with grey smoke,
as she withdraws the popsicle from
her mouth to lick at
the stained lines along her hands,
her heart pumping heated blood
along pressurised arteries that throb
as she pants and gasps for
more air before putting the popsicle
back into her mouth,
her tongue looking for some relief
from the thickening air.
She exhausts the popsicle,
pulls out the spent treat,
leaving a sticky-sour aftertaste at
the back of her dried throat
throws the withered remnants alongside
the oxidised grass and wilted petals,
as she gasps for more air,
her lungs grasping at
the thick cocktail of flaring hydrocarbons,
and the smell of her sweat
mingles with the cloud of burnt roses,
centred around the industrial pounding,
of her heart as she closes her eyes,
in suffocating satisfaction.
an oxygenated whirl of rose petals,
the thick blanket of grass,
breathing in, in,
as she runs towards the ice-cream van,
asking for an popsicle
"A lemon-flavoured one please,"
extending her hands gratefully
to receive the cylindrical treat,
under the heat of the sun
that combusts and burns the air,
causing her to sweat as
she unwraps the popsicle
and throws the multi-coloured wrapper
into a black pool of melted rainbow
that once lubricated pistons and gears.
She stands amidst a rising wall of temperature
that threatens to spark and ignite,
as she places the popsicle in her mouth
even as the heat that engulfs her
slowly melts it away
leaving the sticky drops running
down her hands in stagnated streams
that soon dry like
grass.
Her eyes are warm with burnt scents,
the horizons of her vision turning into
opaque walls of white tipped with grey smoke,
as she withdraws the popsicle from
her mouth to lick at
the stained lines along her hands,
her heart pumping heated blood
along pressurised arteries that throb
as she pants and gasps for
more air before putting the popsicle
back into her mouth,
her tongue looking for some relief
from the thickening air.
She exhausts the popsicle,
pulls out the spent treat,
leaving a sticky-sour aftertaste at
the back of her dried throat
throws the withered remnants alongside
the oxidised grass and wilted petals,
as she gasps for more air,
her lungs grasping at
the thick cocktail of flaring hydrocarbons,
and the smell of her sweat
mingles with the cloud of burnt roses,
centred around the industrial pounding,
of her heart as she closes her eyes,
in suffocating satisfaction.
I did like the description of her vision giving out from the heat.