ephling

[ephling]

@unforgets :

[     EXT.        YOKOHAMA   CITY  ,    NOON.          VIEW   FROM   BIRD’S   EYE     :    KNOTTED   LIMBS  ,    LIKEN   TO   THE   CRIMSON   STRAND   OF   FATE.         STRANGERS   SCATTERED   HERE     &    THERE     &    UNKNOWING   OF   THE   TWO   CHILDLIKE   THIEVES   AMONG   THEM !    ]

the   song   of   hunger   is   one   to   make   bandaged   hands   tremble.       peel   back   the   white   ribbons     &     witness     :     an   ache     /     a   yearn     /     a   lust   for   something   he   doesn’t   know  ,    suspended   in   the   chest   like     heart   on   a   swing.        DEAR   FOOLISH   BOY  !   desiderating   ghost   toys   to   satiate   a   hemlock   pining  !        oft   times   the   rose   tucked   ‘neath   ivory   ribs   howls   the   same   nocturne   as   the   violin                     whiny     &    broken     &     lovelorn     (…)     dare   ye   face   him  ?!

fingers   dance   akin   to     swan    ,    thieving   a   surprise   from   nearby   pant   pocket.        RUSTED   GOLD   held   in   the   palm     /     a   pocket   watch   to   bleed     /     in   numbers    /    in   intervals     /     that  ,    to   he  ,    means   naught.        (     be   still  ,    dear   plum   heart  !        though   thou   art   wretched     &    bereft   o’   cupid’s   striking   kiss  ,    there   shall   come   a   day   in   which   thou   long   no   more.   )        the   stealing   of   shakespeare’s   speech   to   glue  deep   scars   becomes   MOTHER   TONGUE  ,    fabricating   warmth   as   flimsy   as   plastic  .  .  !

gaze   spots   a   pink   headed   pocket   picker    /     child   guilty   of   the   same   greed   that   fetters   bandaged   wrists.       INTRIGUE   BREWS   AT   A   SECOND’S   TICK  ,      pilgrimage     toward   stranger   already   taking   place   before   noticed.        a   curious   glint   in   the   irises     &     suddenly   a   palm   is   extended  ,    nesting   the   earlier   thieved   pocket   watch.

❛     did’ya   find   anything   interesting  ,    pinky  ?        got   my   hands   on   this   junk  ,    if   yer   interested   in   a   trade.     ❜

None   knows   better   lair   than   that   of   cityscape   abyss   /   of   masks   &   murmurs    /     Mildred   clones   /    concealment   in   its   entirety   ‘gainst   singularity’s   visage.   World   boils   down   to   one   Kitty   Genovese   center,   the   calls   o’  whodunit   oft   than   not   sweeps   vain   past   unknowing   bystanders.   SIN’S   GREATEST   CLEANER   :   social   fabric   herself,   bearer   of   dimensions   imperceptible   to   th’  untrained   eye   ;   wherein   fair   is   foul,   foul   is   fair,   vile   makes   merry,   &   Darwin   takes   cherry.   &  ‘tis   HERE   where   broods   an   impending   fellowship   o’   most   peculiarity.

A   shadow  -  like   figure   sojourns   th’  evening   tide    (   ALTHOUGH   MIDDAY,   imbalance   looms   with   twilight   which   taints   any   perpetrator’s   worldview   ).    GUILTY   CHILD,   lacketh   rhyme,   lacketh   prejudice,   trinkets   about   with   spectral   hands   that   pluck  —  pluck  —  pluck   amongst   a   field   of   pockets   ——    failed   inventions  that   fallen   to   seams   b’tween   his   nimble   fingers.    ❛ C’est   voler! ❜    Non,   c’est   la   vie   ;   if   only   to   earn   his   keep   with   the   SERPENT   FEMME   who   awaits   him.   .   . home.    (   ❛ HOME   :   a   word   o’   WARMTH   without   furnace.  .  . ❜   )     

[…]     Flitting   above   are   prying   gulls,   who   hath   so   far   play’d   strange   feathery   witnesses   to   the   strange   lavender   fiend,   &   as   if   winged   creatures   knew   better   than  to  bother,   they   up   &   away’d.   The   rather   dramatic   departure   rears   our   pitiful   youth   from   yet    another    self   -   disparaging    fit    /   shapeless,   yet   felt   raw    /    gloved   puppeteer    /    cruel   crease   apparition    /    BIRTH’D   FROM   TH’  EMPT   O’   MATERNAL   BOSOM!

Left   hand,   half   o’   demise,   circles   ‘round   his   right   elbow   ——   some   comfort   tic   as   the   mind   resurfaces   to   reality.   Still   -   a   -   daze,   HURT   BOY   falters   alas,   brusheth   ‘gainst   a   dingy  alley,   quite   complementary   to   his   tragic   demeanor.     […]     As   chance   would   have   it,   12   o’   clock   ahead   catches   a   golden   glint,   pupils   pursue   &   lock   ‘pon   a   pair   of   hands   liable   to   a   DEMISE   akin.   Certainly   those   plastered   fingers   knew   swindling   ‘fore   any   trade    /    such   stealth   that   hardly   disrupts   a   single   strand   of   wind.

[…]     Tick   &   tock,   gaining   pulse   runs   with   his   head.   Aware   of   his   relentless   gaze   too   late,   he   blinks    /    the   stranger   hath   vanish’d   from   tunnel   view.   Pendulum   sounds   within   ribcage   becomes   outward,   in   fact.  .  .adjacent   ——  the   voice   that   rings   beside   his   ear   thieves   a   pattern   from   his   veins,   &   as   if   mocking,   the   rusted   ol’   watch   mimics   the   tune   of   his   cage’s   rattle.   ‘Twas   not   familiar   to   be   seen,   much   less   approach’d.

He   stiffens   like   a   gargoyle,   murky   orbs   curiously   peering   from   the   side.   Yet   positively   recoils.  .  .what   a   CONMAN   to   smile   such   teeth   after   a   pick.   This   stranger’s   allure   can   easily   become   one’s   undoing.

❝ I   don’t   know   any  ❛ pinky. ❜   I   don’t   know   how   to   answer   that.  .  . ❞