Seven turning suns and seven sentient moons.  Fourteen resolutions of the earth for every day that lives and dies. My resolution wanes.  Fades into a humming grey.  A place of little effect and no reason.  And the doors slam.  Every one a cannon marking time.  Every one the sound of rending.  Of something made smaller.  And time slows like treacle.  A sickly sweet wade of decreasing desire.  A reluctant tick dragging its heels for each reluctant tock.  I watch the moons wheel.  I watch their pocked faces grow fat again.  Leering from a yellow sky.  Rudderless and formless and empty.  And I watch the purposeless suns turn.  And I breathe in the thick air, slow and shallow breaths to hide the stench of impending disaster.  I wait for my chance, my moment.  I wait for one of the doors to bounce back on its hinges. I wait for escape and release and deliverance.  I wait for absolution and forgetting.  I wait for tomorrows that bleed from the edges of today.  I wait impatient and grasping.  For things that will never come.


13 thoughts on “Doors

  1. Miss P says:

    I agree.
    PMS can be such a bugger 😉

  2. daisyfae says:

    “resolve”… “dissolve”… they really shouldn’t sound so much alike. i think that’s part of the problem…

  3. kyknoord says:

    That’s customer service for you.

  4. thegnukid says:

    damn, girl. wonderful.

    hopefully the angst was poetic only and not real life.

  5. Seraphine says:

    I’m don’t know what treacle is. but your poem is powerful and beautiful, Dolce. waiting for things to happen is pointless, but the fact we do it is testament to the strength and hope of the human spirit. because even when we aren’t waiting, we wait. it’s our destiny.

  6. nursemyra says:

    you need a change Dolce…. hope it’s a new job coming up….

  7. Miss P says:

    @Kyknoord: brilliant 😉

  8. Dolce says:

    @ Ms P > Me? Never. *she says, loading the 30 calibre pistol*

    @ Dais > I resolved to drink until I disolved. It worked. Oh, and LB rubbed my feet. He can stay.

    @ Kyk > And *that’s* how people in customer service end up dead.

    @ Silverstar > Every now and then I have to gnaw my wrists a little.

    @ Gnu > Ag, a little angst is good for a girl. One cannot rely on Soap Operas alone!

    @ Sera > and that’s just at the airport. Aaah. I’m being silly. Thank you.

    @ Nurse M > I’ll know by the end of the month *holding thumbs*

    @ Ms P > He’s a corker, our Kyk, isn’t he :mrgren:

  9. Rox says:

    Awesome, and very applicable to me in this little stage as well.

  10. Dolce says:

    @ Ms P > ja, that green oke is difficult!

    @ Roxy > Bah! Humbug! Pass us another cocktail!

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