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Glowing Teal Wisps
Some time after mid day, crystals began growing
off the ends of the house and along every window.
Like fossilized ivy without mind nor remorse,
it devoured the surface until it met with itself.
The air thinned quickly and we fell to our knees,
gasping for substance and clawing at baseboards.
After we'd slept and dried in the vacuum,
our ghostly visages did break from their bonds.
And we rose against mass like balloons of hot air;
about to ascend through ceiling and mineral.
But despite our new states of glowing teal wisps,
the hardening rock could still somehow contain us.
We wailed and rattled our chains and our whips,
all in impotent distress and distortions.
Soon we all wore, and could no longer tend
to the cosmic injustice that encased us within.
So settled we did into every new crack
that forms in foundations beneath our old tomb.
And when we hear steps from above come clacking,
we cry out in terror to worn and be known.
Desperate to save from the encasement of glitz,
they soon run in fear of all the sounds that they gleam.
