My shadows both long and wide reached over everything,
including the zealots that had come and gone.
I respected them, after all, it was in every living breathing vein.
To traverse the anewness of things and taste all it had to give.
But I stopped.
When they brought…
Their loiterers-these half scraps with them.
The adulation their ancestors used to pour unto me-
Now, it was gone.
When my frozen, laboured breaths hit them in where it mattered, their senses.
The one thing I ever respected in them,
was their flounder.
That was also gone.
They clambered on my rugged skin.
Deafened me with their chatter.
Pulled on my luscious hair that was bestowed to me by our mother.
Stomped on my ribs.
Screamed.
And repeated.
No matter how much, they never left their long lines.
Always headed for some prize that had now lost its meaning.
They just kept infestating…
never slowed nor stopped.
I.
The Mountress.
Their Ever-resting,
had once again enfolded another into my blistered chest,
as my skie-
I. serened.
Now I watched for my king in waiting,
the storm, to tear apart the rest of the cries
from every junkyard of life on me.
But his throne stolen by a warming sky.
His arrivals much rarer.
Still
I had dreamt and dreamed for his arrival.
Yet all I ever got
Were these neon moths.