In the outskirts of the void


In the outskirts of the void


Into the black pearl I cast the

Morning crow,

The beak a delirious trumpet proffesing to a cathedral,

The entirity of a being, in this hour, a sack of black feathers,

The entirety of this, a moment, stuck inside the vibrating flesh,


“Eat your chickpeas slowly.”

“Be here now.” “Stay.”

Into the dark patch do I lower down the telephone cord,

I fish back for her murderous majesty,

I salivate my madness,

Change my mind a thousand times.


I read aloud thee calligraphic lies, empty ‘bove the bedroom door,

The heart an ounce a father, an ounce a phantom, but really piedra,

We, as a squirming, gossiping womb for prettier things


Pleas – drunk in the nether (pain as promise of forever) ,

Silver anchors thread in keychains, in the trash,

Upon those empty milk cartons, swaying

“Hum, hum, wiggle godly.”

“Dead, you look so still and lovely.”

“Grow.” “Crave.”

The stone is sore,

It stacks its blood a bit above the ceiling,

A bit under the floor,

Gone is the glow, the morning lights are sadness;

The crow strangled, mouth to mouth I give its sea-sick lungs.

It sees my ribcage bending sideways to a crown,

For seven of white clocks, noir, a desert,

It watches me drown, it watches me coil

In the outskirts of the void.

~ by Oloriel on June 6, 2016.

21 Responses to “In the outskirts of the void”

  1. Love the visuals. 🙂

  2. The crow to a sack of feathers, and that stone… you sure can bring out dread in the beautiful wy.

    • Thank you, Bjorn! I hope your relationship with mornings is far better than mine!

      • Normally… I’m a morning person actually (sounds less poetic than night actually)

      • I function fine in the mornings, even appear delightful. But the break and crack of dawn weighs so heavily on my mind.

      • Dawn come way too early… Sun rises at 3:30 right now… and dawn is earlier…

      • Yes, I find it easier in wintertime, when the light seems to creep up more gently. I remember waking up at 6:30 to prepare for school, wintertime, night still having a reign outside. This schedule makes me wake up and go about my day in a much more fresh, optimistic and open manner. Dawn at 4 am, Sun frying the streets at 5 am – just gives me a migraine!

  3. Nice and visually written.

  4. Powerful poem… love your poetic imaginary which kind of reminded me of Poe´s piece as well… the three last ending lines stand out… great share… sending love and best wishes. Aquileana 😉

  5. This reminds me of a hangover which I never had, now I want to drink…

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