‘Satellite’s gone up to the skies, things like that drive me out of my mind’ – ‘Satellite of Love’ ~ Lou Reed
She follows him home; fishbone-white, shedding the light of her acne-scarred face, as he runs through the grass, the trees and the fields, fear at his heels, a malignant sprite.
Camouflage clouds aid her quest, unquestionable zest in her obsessive flight. Thorns tear at his clothes, brambles at face, no matter the pace and refusal to rest, there seems no escape from this hellion possessed.
Though crepuscular abalone clings to his core, his door in sight – he’s outrun the whore. Gasping for breath, lifts himself from the floor, runs to the window, his god he implores,
but she’s followed him home; fishbone-white, shedding the light of her acne-scarred face. Where peace once dwelled and life was hope-laced, paranoia lays waste and defeat takes its place.