3.17.18 – Animated
The doctor was deliberating in the dead of night, hoping the throwing thunder would keep questions away from curious work. There were vials and vats filled with the worst of things, slick and still barely breathing so they’d make fresh ingredients for a madman’s brew. He didn’t have to share sight with two siblings, but he kept a glass eye at hand as a totem for finding a clear cause to the future. His implements to make it were arranged in sharpness and length, seen reflecting the lightning in the menacing moments it struck close enough for him to taste.
His work was a montage made to represent the best found in nature and sewn together in familiar frames. This wasn’t the first figure to be lain under sheet and stuck patient for another doctor’s forking finger to bless it back to breath. The table was made to raise for heavens and replace angels with a better man. He didn’t subsist on hubris alone but instead lead a path towards the stars so his quiet creation might be better acquainted with wishes. His notes quoted anecdotal evidence of god’s blessing on the breast of the dead and he weighed his scope against vile involvement of devils; the soul sought that fine fire and fractured light.
We each were born behind that collared curtain and he was only looking to play the wizard of a great, green tower and claim that latent power. There were other voices booming in the background linking all the failures of finding an empty yard with only scorch marks to set the scene, more mischief made ash and returned to its base state. He cranked harder in the approaching anger of clouds, setting his next marvel to the midnight hour and the height of its hand. This one might stand a chance for rousing, its route carved cleanly out of all the dearest subjects and no other beauty to take next.