Wednesday, 18 February 2009
By Cradle of Filth
"Let Them Come."
"I've got an army of skeletons to chase your demons away." ~Matt Skiba: Demon's Away.
Woke up in the middle of the night to a rattling in the cage. Pulled the bedsheets up to my chin and shivered my way through the earliest hours of the morning. I'd have turned on the lights, but the lights make them scream. I prefer their rattling.
I'd like to say they sleep during the day, but truthfully, the dead don't sleep. Whoever said death was eternal slumber was illinformed. Death is an endless moment of now. And the dead do love.
My skeletons love me. It's a sinister, black kind of love, but it is love. I don't rely on webster to define everything for me. I know what love is. I know what their love is.
Sometimes they walk. Sometimes they dance, but most of the time they sit in their cage and rattle their bones to a tune I can't hear. I've lived most of my life not paying them any mind. But one day that changed. And ever since then I've heard them and they hear me. Sometimes I hear them whisper my name, so I creep towards their cage and press my ear against the door. I close my eyes and listen to them call my name. I love the way their disembodied voices sound. It's almost musical.
I've never opened the door of their cage. I hope I never will. I know what they really want from me. And I want to hold onto it just a bit longer. Someday I know I'll surrender to the musical calling of their whispers, but for now I resist. This is my time, and someday it will be theirs, but not yet...not yet.
"Death's in a double bed singing songs that could only catch the ear of the desperate." ~FOB
EDIT *My skeletons, my muse, rattling in their cage, calling me...calling me...calling me back. No, no I haven't forgotten you Tommy, Blake...calling me...calling me...calling me back*