Saturday, December 13, 2008

Insomnia, my muse... please save me from my scattered thoughts!
I have a thousand images in my head, and a dozen words with which to work.
There is a woman, or some part of her. Her mouth, and cheek. A profile of a perfect pair of lips. They are boldly bordered with natural pigment. Pale pink, permanently puckered, and plump as the juiciest of peaches. They enshroud bones, beautiful white and singularly aligned, which peak out from top and bottom. perched between them, her tongue. On the tip of her tongue are the words that, unspoken, cause the dimple in her cheek. She isn't speaking, not even at a whisper. She seems caught in contemplation, though her eyes I cannot see. A single curl of her long hair falls across her jaw as she tilts her head. She sighs softly, and pinches her lips closed. What would she have said? She breathes in through her nose, a flawless nose. the recess between cheek and nostril deepens with her smile, and her lower lip protrudes. Why this imagery? I'm going on hours of a tease that she will speak or laugh. just kiss me already.

Now, A sinister figure, far removed from the last, standing in a dim light.

The figure is everything that the teasing smile is not. The realism of the girl is contrasted by the fantastic nature of this beast. He wears a tall velvet hat, the brim catching the beams of the streetlamp above him. He is dressed in fine clothes, dark red and black. A silver cane in his gloved right hand, but he holds it like a baton, he is frozen in pose--midway through removing his left glove-- but his face is animated. He is grinning, and it is spreading, though almost imperceptibly. The light washes him in a filthy yellow light, and his teeth are glinting in it. His collar is high, and he wears a pure white cravat. Just the slightest hint of a reflection peers out from under his hat, a spark of energy in his eyes. The sound of water trickling in the abyssal drains beneath his feet echo like a prayer in ancient catacombs. His heel is clicking on the cobble stone street and the sound reverberates like thunder through the empty alleys. He wears a ruby ring on his exposed left hand.


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