Candle That’s Lit (day 1799)

Your impatience drew blood
From the now leaking holes of my breastplate,
And this is our end?
How could these eyes turn off
A candle that’s lit so,
Illuminating for me intricacies
That collect at the feet of my worship
To become the fodder of
My stumbling blocks?
So shall again, I honor thy wish
To a sacrifice I never knew I could make,
A line I thought I could ignore.

Night Air (day 1790)

I’ve got anger seeping into my blue blood veins
Letting animosity fuel this deep inside fire
This isn’t dragging me down, boy, hell no.
For the sky’s calling me higher then high.
This is a lesson of life with a cruel world twist,
But no man’s heart has ever been softer
Nor shall erosion get at it’s strength.
No, this is a quest in growth,
With a battle-cry ringing out in cooling night air.

Siren Song (day 1700)

My Siren’s song was loud and clear,
Rung straight into my heart so dear.
A melody of which I knew
I had no choice as matters grew.

Little by little I worked into
My heart the song I’d sing till blue,
The golden Lady of the land
A Siren and I, hand in hand.

But as my Siren grew in me,
I lost all duty to thyself.
My eyes were slowly closed,
Hands soon swoll, toiled and blue.

She knew I had so much to give
Until at last this heart would burst
Upon the seams she so wove with
Melody so long, her Siren song.

She, however, would not let go –
Clutching, bloody, my heart would grow.
Until, at last, all writhing stilled,
My heart: milled, song: chilled.

model | Melody Mangler
model | Melody Mangler

Crispy Wallows (day 1593)

Crispy wallows and snakes following ancient trails down spirals, leading only to a perfectly spherical, blood-moon-packed dirt bubble where one thousand and one perpendicular lines scarred concave smoothness, remarkably resembling an eerie odessical scene of Labyrinth, David Lynch infused simplicity and snakes. With an omnipresent light leaving no shadows, even in such depths, that echoed with every heartbeat snaking it’s way downward, downward, downward until the downward was no longer downward but stuck in a simple sphere, simply circled as if snakes and ladders were suddenly trapped in an empty crystal ball bubbling with misunderstood and toppled (read:shook) reason that inhabitants were too impatient to digest, leaving perpendicular marks in frightened terror as retraced steps traced their snaking along ancient trails back into the under-root of an atmospheric tragedy they had become familiar with and called home.

Ask Embla (day 1551)

Buri, Buri, Bor’s three sons
– Odin, Vili, Ve of Bestla –
Take pain from frost ogre’s Bos
Who suckled life
To Ginnungagap’s gain:
Fire to ice,
Melt to freeze,
Blood to water,
Flesh to land,
Bones to mountains.
But pass great peaks
Will come to be,
Ask and Embla
Be flesh to climb,
Ask and Embla
Shall mind land too.
From our Odin: spirit;
From our Vili: will;
From our Ve: wisdom.
Together a triad,
True Aesir indeed.

Rusty (day 1546)

I put into words the last drops of sunlight
That left my supine soul wandering alone
Face up on an old two-track dirt road
By a rusty water reservoir
Near the outskirts of town.
For me, I couldn’t understand the capacity
Of one single ray of sunshine
That drifted on from that barren landscape
Of my calmly coiled fingers.
I drew a large circle encircling my two nipples
Nearly touching my navel
– Which had the mark of an ancient blood line –
In order to continue calculating
My numbing heartbeat’s instinct
That would lead me from this enclosing darkness
Into a fiery nether region
I had witnessed during a tremor.

Rusty by Ned Tobin

Deep End (day 1545)

I don’t have a deep end,
But surely I could find one
With my keen sense of direction.
Surely I could point fingers
And follow my instincts
Until I was past the touching point
My tiptoes were reaching for;
Starting to panic –
My eyes becoming slightly dilated
And a woozy feeling
Overwhelming my body
Like blood that was slowly leaving it.

Deep End by Ned Tobin

Licked Bones (day 1503)

You clawed my earth with your sharpened talons,
Piercing skin and lapping this dripping blood.
I wasn’t a victim, no, I was the victor!
Not a gram spoiling as bones were licked like molasses;
Surviving and thriving. Delving.
Gripping tight, and expecting evermore.