And now, Scary-Crayon presents...
Born from a shimmering, gelatin pearl
into this murky existence,
all around surrounded by
oil and rags and decay,
he yet recalls the beauty
of that life he knew before this rebirth
from which he can never be free.
How you remind him of this,
your smooth yet imperfect skin,
so pale, yet rouged by something external,
He wants to reach you back at the light,
the source, to abandon this unlife
fraught with monsters --
ferocious black bears with claws like scythes,
ever swiping to rape from him this existence
that (he knows) they could not want.
This fetid mire chokes him
and makes him choke those in his midst,
tinting waters blue-black and sick crimson hues
and leaving them the flavor of cold, dirty pennies.
He will brave darker waters to reach you.
Eventually he will emerge,
but more dangerous to him
are these brooks of the day:
the waters boil in the sunlight,
cooking his flesh, but they warm him
in the absence of frigid death
and make him more tender.
He will swim upstream,
like the salmon,
to meet you at the table.
-- Wes --
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