more darkness

Does the dark light not scream out at you? Blinding you. All consuming. Faces in pain. Faces of pain. The secret life film. The creepy disturbed soundtrack. Pause. Rewind. Step forward. Delete.

Every picture will scream anguish. Dead eyes. Dead lips. Deadened sounds and dulled motions. Every picture will resonate sorrow, echoing infinitely.

The little bird you find under your garden shed. Quivering from feline terror. Breathing hard in cool sanctuary. You can see its heart thumping through its chest. And you provide warmth. And light. And water and worms. You dedicate your days to nursing this tragic little bird.

And one day she's gone.

She's dead to you.

She's dead.

She.

[Posted with iBlogger from my iPod touch]