Sunset Apparatus

In the summer sky,

In the summer sky, the blueberries bleed and blossom into fire.

In the summer sky, the blueberries bleed and blossom into fire. But once the horizon hemorrhages hope,

In the summer sky, the blueberries bleed and blossom into fire. But once the horizon hemorrhages hope, the stars stain the sunset apparatus.

A sea of synthetic sunshine waxes a choreography of candles,

A sea of synthetic sunshine waxes a choreography of candles, a fountainhead of fireflies that flutter and mutter

A sea of synthetic sunshine waxes a choreography of candles, a fountainhead of fireflies that flutter and mutter like a songbird swarm of neon nightingales.

It japes its taste of jazz and jubilation, soliloquies of sopranos

It japes its taste of jazz and jubilation, soliloquies of sopranos that smear the starlight in stormclouds of staccato-dreams.

It coagulates the colour of nightmares

It coagulates the colour of nightmares as a thousand thoughts stammer in incandescent imaginations,

It coagulates the colour of nightmares as a thousand thoughts stammer in incandescent imaginations, ablaze in bitter bloodstains of yesterdays.

(Aside) Hello, Commaful. I am not all the way satisfied with this piece and I experienced a little bit of writer's block towards the end, but I wanted to do something short for today.

I had an idea, based on a book that I read a month ago, that the night is subjugated to an 'apparatus' of light that exposes us and never leaves us in the comfort of darkness. I am actually a bit afraid of the dark (because of my cat), but I also wanted that 'light' to reflect the noise of night and how our thoughts never seem to go out.

I feel like I could have done a lot better, but I hope that you all found something to like here, regardless. I have been feeling bitter for a good chunk of the morning, so I also needed to vent by writing something.

Thank you all for reading, and I hope that you are all well. Take care and write on, Commaful. <3