THE TRUTH OF ANGELS
It feels like breaking glass from the outside, it feels like sitting alone with your hand out of place, with your one silver eyebrow that no one ever sees. That hand could be held within a breath, that eyebrow is of steel. You can force the hand and found the vision. You can have future, you can breach the gap and crush the eye. With your hands open wide, you light fires for no one to see, you press those hands into another horizon, into ethers wide and long. You touch sun and moons with an eye and an ear, red brick skies cover the light. In the darkening gloom there crawls a dream of hollow eyes, of hollow cheeks, of hollow hands that cannot clap. There is a distant opening and closing of many eyes of steel and sulphur, but they feel close, a heartbeat close, close enough to be inside you. So you walk the rooms in a silver shadow, you climb in and out of life, you break open the world within worlds. Sun and moons pass quickly over the sky. You cast a net and encircle the world within worlds. The sky turns pale and the sun caves in, but still you encircle and ensnare. This is the time and these are the realms of time. You are magic and you are steel, you are velvet and you are claw. The room is pungent with expectation and enhancement. With hands open wide you light the fires that burn in incantation.
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