{"sf1_id":835717,"sf2_id":null,"title":"The Skin Cycle VI: A Wild Field","author":"Aux Chiens","words":355,"posted_at":"2015-03-22T06:27:00.000Z","tags":["Insanity","Lycanthrope","Poetry","Weredogs","Werewolf","abstract","alienation","neurosis","poem","psychedelic"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/835717-the-skin-cycle-vi-a-wild-field","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/835717","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=835717\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"In a wild field, where you've left me\nTo contemplate, but not discover\nWhat it was like, when we were alive.\nIf your heart remained\nA pulsing organ, from which\nThe bulging veins and arteries\nWould crawl up and blossom\nFrom the ground, into a flower--\nI will be there, to pick the petals.\nIt will be there for me to remember\nWhy Abel missed his mother\nBut never gave another thought\nTo a certain sibling of his--\nMarking her grave with thorny roses\nAnd wreathes of leafy vines,\nBut forgetting his brother...\nThe one he kissed so passionately, \nAs he was stabbed through the heart.In a wild field, where you've left me\nTo contemplate, but not discover\nWhat it was like, when we were alive.\nThe structure of a fallen leaf, \nBrittle and dead in a Spring garden--\nThat was what it should have been,\nFiring off a cannonade\nOf furtive laughter\nAs I slowly crushed it in my hand.\nHere is an album of pictures I took\nOf people I no longer know--\nHere is a book, filled with names\nOf people that hate me now--\nAnd when I throw them away, I discover\nThe curvature of my lip, into a smile,\nBecomes the deforming snap of my spine.\n \nThey call themselves a master-race\nWhich you should, by rights, belong to--\nSo different than my delusions,\nWith your body more suited \nFor a kind of delight\nI studied, but never got to possess.\nBut I could steal away a dagger\nAnd do as I should: impale myself--\nIn agonies of self-righteous loathing...\nWhen everyone hears the resulting screams\nI'll be miles away already.\nWhen I am finally alone, \nLeft to pick up my dreams\nThat were smashed and shattered\nIn time immemorial--\nEvery little piece will still reflect\nAn image of you and I--\nSuited enough, to make a gallery\nI'll stash away in a private room,\nTo behold when I want to remember the past\nFondly, but deeply, in miserable silence.In a wild field, where you've left me\nTo contemplate, but not discover\nWhat it was like, when we were alive."}