(Continues from a Street Called Mercy)
Luminous wings flapped,
while thunder clapped
drowning out my screams.
The knife ripped my seams,
gouged out my dreams,
tore through what remained,
when death’s chains wrapped
spectral flesh ’round the gap
left by a mishap
robbing me of a recap
of why I’m trapped.
Instead of getting answers, I’m dangling from a winged knife lodged in my back. And either my edged captor’s dying my ghostly flesh with its light, or I’m turning yellow. Either way, it’s not a good look for me. I’m no Coldplay.
Beneath my feet slid the mousetrap known as NYC. I was a struggling mouse in an arcane eagle’s talons. All my attempts to break free lodged the knife deeper between my shoulder blades. Jase, what the hell did you get yourself into? And why is your mess inflicting itself on me? What did I do to deserve this?
No answer came because the knife was too busy abducting me to carve out a reply. I should be grateful, but I’m tired of all the guesswork. The knife dove, tucking its luminous wings in close to my body, and we fell. The glass and steel quills on NYC’s back rose to meet us. I covered my head.
The knife tore out of my back releasing me, and I flopped onto the pavement. An orange haze overhung the alley pushing on the buildings, warping them into crazy curls. I picked myself up and glared at the knife. It pointed at the swirling lights behind a wrought iron fence. I’d found Hell’s Carnival. Was I ready to walk in there to learn the truth?
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