the magical pot

hope. infinite - painting the clouds till the blossoms sprout about. all is fairy, the kinds that whisper of silver hidden deep in the caves, go dig it and the land is a huge cry away: lungs deflated sprouting fear, daisies black and withering in the eye when air blades slices skin. mercury poisoning dulls a parachute unable to open, lame silver looks so much like hope in the deep caves and turns out to be a swirling maelstrom floating within innards. try to force it out but the air is thick with velocity, a crash that never comes - just dashing faster into caves with flying imps whispering of devastation. magical box flickers about, sputtering, groaning till pandora becomes flesh. clammy hands rip apart the lock, break it, poisoned heart jumps to do a bidding - as if will power can stop this. fairies whisper of hope while sleeping on lofty clouds, high is the bar, earth and bottom is a red tide of swarming nemesis, clutching for dear life. reach out to touch the starts; heaven moans for an earnest try, attempt to leap out of fuming silver. an act of betrayal. pandora opens to yawn, a venomous bite transforms sight to blindness, senses hear only enchantment tainted with a lack of grace. stars blink when death wears a solemn face, picks out the fuzzy logic within a cave of screaming bats. grounded clouds solid on foot finding solace, whispers turning to keys unlocking fiery darts swallowed in one gulp when walk took a stumble. each dart dissolved in one aching heart, letting loose a magical pot whose talk was just talk.