We Are The Makers Of Our Fantasies
written by: Samantha Beardon
Flying high, bandits at Ten o Clock,
Bullets ripping into each fuselage
tearing, burning, stripping
nerves bare, magnifying
the tingling pain, which travels through the ether.
Leading us towards wildness – in this
aerial ballet.
Flying High, bandits at Ten o Clock,
We jockey for position,
Who will lead, who will follow,
as we weave,
Our wings become interlocked,
Lines blurred opposing teams conjoin,
Victor – versus – Vanquished.
Pain
Suffused
Ecstasy
Fanning the flames
Gnawing
Grinding
Glorification
Bleeding from myriad wounds
We fly, locked together,
Spinning, grasping, feeding on
the updrafts, and the others wounds,
My fuselage shot to pieces
I am dropping faster, torn skin
sliding, wings detaching,
Have you the strength to match me?
Dropping
Over a
Precipice
Will we tumble together
in unison
Shafted
Saturated
Sated
Hold the Connection –
Flying high, bandits at Ten o Clock
Torn
Eviscerated
Fused.
We are the makers of our fantasies.
- Carol’s Diary Entry - March 26, 2019
- Cutting Edge - February 4, 2019
- We Are The Makers Of Our Fantasies - January 12, 2019