Conversations

Orestes pursued by the furies. He can't keep it out.

Orestes pursued by the furies. He can’t keep it out.

All the conversations that play in mind, never unsaid, a silent unending vigil. Sanity lacks the silence of my madness. Bludgeoned out, sipping out of my mushed brain, pictures floating in the vitreous humour. Morsels and strands dissipating into the ether, a passing wraith samples a thought and is a revenant, a ghoul nibbles a piece of bone and becomes a troll, a hag twines a thread of hair with her own and is like her youth again, the trees roots drink deep from my seeping blood and a forest moves and a stray playwright stares in the vitreous humour and in there he glimpses a story, my story, that from which he fashions his next great tragedy- he calls it Macbeth.

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