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GUY MARTIN DELCAMBRE

storyteller | poet | writer
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ringing ears

October 07, 2015

Fight just to feel

Suffer to breathe

Losing count of just how many memories are haunting me.

Flirting with the hole in my heart,

Stick your finger in, feel the weakening beat.

 

Time is a deafening siren

Singing off key...

 

"Come to the cliffs. You'll find rest. Close your eyes, beat your breast. Hold my hand, feel the fury. Out at sea you've abandoned me. Damn the hand that you faithfully held. It let you go. Grasping at empty air as you fell.  Left you spinning freely. He lied, so come on in. Come closer to my edge."

 

Bloody eyes and an empty chest

The ringing siren clawed at the rock scribbling my name awkwardly

 

Vulture circles in a darkening sky

The stench of yesterday, intoxicating.

 

No one made our bed, no one prepared. 

Death smiling friendly.

Tomorrow has left, forgetting me.  

 

My boots are damp, my blood is slow

I haven't had a thought in days. 

I haven't breathed for minutes.

My lungs are burning.

My heart, yearning.

 

Creaking boards crack under the weight of movement,

...Everything is moving.

The smell of salt,

the sound of collapse,

reaching for her empty, present sound. 

 

"Come now or die at sea. The light is off. There is no one waiting. There is no one wanting. Can't you hear the sound? Can't you feel the weight? The hand that you thought was forever has let go. You have been let go. Love has lost you. You need to come. I am where the waves kiss the cliff."

 

Sea blown and hollow,

My course is set. 

Eyes closed, ears open;

One lone sound drowns my heart.

Staring ominously at the gathering clouds,

Curiously dreaming of a beating heart. 

 

The sound of collapse. 

The smell of salt. 

And then it breaks...

 

Sun stoned and drifting

The ship is broken

The pieces are floating

 

In the violence of reckless waves

A familiar voice, peaceful and clear

 

"The ringing sound is an ill tempered noise, lying and lusting; the siren, a blood thirsty sound. The pieces are holding you and my hand, ever present. There is not a day in this age or the next when my hand will release you."

 

image: Cliff Contrast

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