The Unilever Series: Dominique Gonzales Foerster - TH.2058


Incandescent celestial satelites

By Steven Sladdin

Ascetic armies caught up in incandescent silver satellites thrown across the galaxy by celestial bodies and angry existences,

Purple shimmers and silver flits, dance fast in the dark.

Moth ridden skies and planetary prudence, falling ice shards and shattered hopes.

Our tears drip onto acidic soil which is gnarled by auspicious winds.

Pungent ash burns thick in the back of the throat and moravian infestations trawl the dirty trenches once filled with ocean pathways and exotic shipments.

I depart from this tattered cavern and the warmth of the broken cones of candlelight.

Peering over the hill

An abundance of metal rods fly overhead reflecting neon dreams, blank pages fall onto ashen faces occupied with inconceivable thoughts.

A harpsichord plays loud and resolute, intricately weaving a web of deadly notions.

The Beast floats on the breath of its watchers, hovering with elegant poise choreographed by beating hearts and racing pulses.

Yellow lens flare back peering out of thickened fog and ice clouds melting into drips forming deep footprints.

White rabbits appear out of falling hats morphing into serpents and acrobats.

Exploding balloons filled with thick mucus burst and stick to the ground, no one can move everything is static, the beast is held above, like a silent monument to this broken and blackened world. A rainbow inverted by mirrored panels and rotating structures spinning faster and faster, chocolate coated carousels melting, horses sink into ash and soil.

Everything is ash and soil, my eyes peer above the ground hoping that something will help me before the soils eats away at my limbs, slowly digesting my fears.

A swooping Ostrich grapples with my arms wrenching me out of the mud, worry has past, and hope has gone. I’m caught up in this feathery cloak, thick plumage covers my mouth and face I can’t breathe as I am flung into darkness into the deepest abyss I keep falling through infinite frames breaking the silence in each one.

I land on the dreams of the forgotten, held by the children, mothers and brothers, fathers and sisters once been here but now gone. Each hope, each fear raises me high above the emptiness into a glass prism, It is the most beautiful place.

Fireworks and silent song converse with ear and tongue.

This prism drops into a sea floating steadily aquatic lungs fill with sparkling breathe diamond stones and rubies red amorous scents and ruthlessness.

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