Meanwhile, Moonchild was trying to cup his ears with his hands to shut out a terrible, ghastly noise. A noise he was all too familiar with. There, in the suffocated air between his palms and eardrums, all the memories were trapped. But the noise was the queen of a planet called Obstinate. She found her way (she always does) through his fingers and entered the wormhole of his cochlea.
And then she danced. She tore the cement membranes of his ear apart with her graceful pirouettes. She mangled the remaining vestibule in seconds with her acidic choreography. He felt a dark pain. Darker than the colour of Infinity’s eyes. But he didn’t move a muscle. He stood still and waited for her to finish her dance. And finish, she did. After which she took a bow.
Now that he was clinically deaf, it was time for her to leave. She proceeded to find her way out through the wormhole, oblivious to the fact that a cosmic exit point was as unattainable as Contentment.
The noise got stuck in the throat of the wormhole. And has been stuck there ever since. Sometimes, on certain viscous days, she tries to get up and dance again in the hope of finding a shortcut to the opposite side of the universe.
On those days, the cosmos reverberates endlessly.
5 comments:
The queen's cosmic exit point is an illusion. Moonchild doesn't really want her to leave. Within the confines of the loud, empty deafness he needs reason. To hold on.
You are getting crazier by the day.
And I don't know if I should be concerned or selfishly wait for more dark literature.
Everytime the cosmos reverberates, the result is something that is soo peaceful. I see a lot of meaning in this post. Some really interesting read here!! Chanced upon your blog.
beautifully murky...
profound hearing loss. i remember a sheet from very long ago. with a doctor's cipher declaring just that. it's not a peppy phrase.
i dont get it. and now i have a earache.
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