Brief 4 – Poem by Leanne
—
It is a limbo
between the unknown.
A rip, stretching, pulling apart
of casing, sheathing.
Pulling apart the flesh
to emerge into reality.
To exist is breathing
between the haunted.
Exorcise the demons
contorting within
your limbs. Splayed
and stretching
outwards to the
point of splintering,
the webbing of your
fingers rupture into
wounded fissures until
you are the between.
Your neck, like your
dune-carved back,
torn taut into a
violin bow tension
and you hear music
even though you cannot
see. You are flickering
through dimensions,
quivering through
minims and quavers.
Everything is
compressed. And
you, submerged,
until only remnants and
fibres tether you
together, let out a
scream from your
inner. Eternally, from
the in-between.
—
Will edit with intention and theme ideas gleaned from Leanne’s poem in a few days. For now, tis a mystery.