In There

and a golden tapestry made from reverberations of the strings on the biggest balalaika…and a splash of a sparkling eye of the brightest of life’s mornings…and the dusty road…and the trunk of an ancient oak…and the crossroads of the sounds of the first birthday present…and a mandolin thunder…and blood clot in the jugular…and the velvet bassline...thinning…thinning…thinning… 

The guts of the universe knotted at the point from which inarticulate sounds pierce the fabric of intestinal threads. Could be a human voice. Hard to tell. Undistinguishable sounds. Could be somebody who cannot speak. Cannot speak what? What language? Why cannot speak? The language. Human language. Because it’s too early.

and a high-pitch voice…soft like the skin…untouched…touched by the mother’s eye

The crystalline greeting to the coagulated bloodline of the galaxy. Cut across the interstellar gaseous masses. A highway built at one blow. Imperious passage through the clotted debris of the yesteryear’s transcosmic catastrophe. A tunnel through the cancerous lungs of the astro-jungle. Slash between the ribs of the stellar monster. Dip into the soft tissue inside the rib cage.

and a long exhale feeding the capillaries with the untouched skin…skin of the softest voice imaginable

Deluge from the fiber. A raid from the microworld. Smack in the center of the knot. Soaking the torn guts with the phlegm overcharged with electric waste. Off-key screeching strings. Primordial chaos of the royal dissonance. Screaming cacophony of spheres. Sound like the heartbeat of an insane runaway. Echo like the past arrested in lucifer’s claw. 

like a whisper from the future…like misty attire…like an eye peeping from the other side of the snapped astral naval…like a ray that with a precision of a surgical knife removes dead cells…like the sunshine that bears warmth and sweet fruit…like an ocean of turquoiseness.

Your everloving mother,

zarry(E)