WHAT BECOMES....

WHAT BECOMES…


By D. Jonas Laurence



Drunk, alone and lost
I stumbled upon a small geometric
clearing.
The erosion of countless years had
made a natural bench – not unlike
the size of your average park bench.
The ones found in any decaying
metropolis.
Dead creatures lay rotting around
the small plateau.
I needed rest more than fresh air,
so I sought the comfort of
the natural seating.
Were my eyes confused?
These decomposing animals seem
strange – almost humanoid –
but no, not in any way human.
Fuck, too much sweet wine…
My thoughts grew wings and flew
to a time back into eternity.
I had been happy – both with
intoxication and sex,
the pretty girl with no name
had been willing to engage, willing
to experiment.
If only I had taken the pillow
from her ecstatic mouth
one moment, one nanosecond
earlier…
I had fled the scene of my crimes, but not before,
a horrific thought had consumed
my unaware mind like cancer
and I had carried on my acts long
after the corpse had grown cold.
Then guilt.
I had thrashed through the surrounding
shrubbery
completely
disorientated
until somehow I had found
this ideal setting,
a place to wait for my mind
to catch up completely,
a place to gather thoughts like
fruit from the numerous
laden trees that made up
the prison like border of the clearing.
I put my hands to my face
and found to my surprise
I no longer had hands – now
I owned two large paws.
Greyish brown fur
grew like tussock
choking any uncovered skin
suffocating any ounce
of hand I once had…
My tall boots, which I had
not laced when I had made
haste from the cottage,
slipped slowly and achingly
from my feet.
Oh horrors!!
My once upon a time feet were
now raven’s claws,
large and obese
and glistening in the starlight.
I could feel scales
growing one by one
on my flabby stomach,
taking over the ample belly
that too much beer
had created.
Madness gripped my soul.
I tried to scream
but a snarl erupted from
my wolf mouth.
My hawk eyes now scanned
the piles of rotting
carcasses.
With my new powerful sight
I could make out
very, very, clearly the
bodies of the sunken, shrunken,
animals.
They resembled me…
Revelation dawned
like a clash of one thousand
cymbals.
I was cursed to die.
You see, everyone must pay
for their crimes, and
this place was where
my sentence was to be
served, as others before me.
Soon I too would be a dead creature
slowly rotting around a natural bench
in a small geometric clearing.


THE END.



Written sometime in January, 1996, while travelling through Turkey and Syria. Why? Who knows.