a sort-of Jeff Buckley tribute, because I am odd.

*~*~SALT~AND~SORCERY~*~*

At night, a Calling:
A seething, saltwater summons...
Scorching the pink inner-skin of a seashell ear.
The ocean throbs like a woman’s heart – vampiric veins aflame with Salt and Sorcery.
The Princess drifts, a thing of crippled bones and glistening smiles all freshly steeped in gore.
Frostblade claws a-shimmer...
Ghastly, she gushes, from Neptunian depths,
And your silent soul unfurls.

As a stone, submerged...submitting...
Tender, tainted minstrel grips a ruptured lyre with fingers of blood-washed willow~
Like the arteries that cage a broken heart.
And the downpour flails in terrible rippling shoals of copper,
With the anaemic flicker of unborn melody:
For he is the voice behind the rain.

Another night, another mountain, groaning...
This mountain dare not weep.

Etched in comet-dust he sits, sighing at my windowsill
Lukewarm fingers threading veils of flaxen sunshine, intangible as slumber

Oh, you truly knew what it was...
To sleep in a dead man’s shadow.

The moonlight filters through him,
Through the miles and miles of faded summer melody
Mellow gold, these vales, these swaying fallow worlds of dishwater–
To die singing...
Is surely to die on fire.
(Or to scream, with spider-silk lungs disintegrating)
His voice held galaxies~
And it left the ocean full of stars.

Who ever knew that a mountain...
Could be so very lonely?

I curse these four cruel walls, looming like ancient, dust-bearded faces, with..
Nothing left to teach me.
A song it taps upon the window pane
I see, through a mist of painted words and dandelion seeds,
The tarnished stars bedraggled with Salt and Sorcery, and the thrumming wings of a dark, dark angel
The Dead, they walk...
The Dead, they breathe...
(As deeply as the sea)
His ghost, it trickles through my dreams,
And with the clink of a broken wing, he smiles…

Alone.
Fettered, by chains I adore
Chains I could not be without
I lie, silent,
Asleep in a dead man’s shadow.