deepundergroundpoetry.com

Gorga

a man went inside a cave in his mind. he came face to face with a gecko-headed dragon.  
 
its fiery head alone was the size of a sixteen-wheeler, and its eyes were like great pools of iridescent oil slick. it stood towering over the man like a column of parthenon. its tongue slid up the side of its face to plop on one of its round, blank eyes, and disappeared back into its mouth-- a thin line across its entire face, reminiscent of a smile.
 
"who are you?" the man asked.
 
the gecko-dragon clucked once.
 
"you," it said. "you. you-ck. you-eck-eck-eck."
 
"that can't be," said the man. "no, it can't be."  
 
"but it is." the gecko-dragon's face blurred and refocused. "but i am. but we were."
 
it clicked again.
 
"what? how--?"
 
the gecko-dragon's mouth opened a sliver. enough for the man to see flames, dark as dark ever knew to be. cold as an arctic night.
 
"you evicted me from your bones," said the flame in the gecko-dragon's mouth.
 
"and now you crave power," said the oil-slick shine of its eyes.
 
"crave crave crave power," said its creamy, burning skin.  
 
"but you have torn it from you." the gecko-dragon seemed to rise higher.

"torn me from you. torn me from you-eck-eck-eck-eck."
 
in disbelief, the man chose to ask anyway, "how do i get you back?"
 
"come. come back. whence you came."
 
"i can't," cried the man, despairing. "i can't, they don't remember me. i am not of the people. they do not know me."
 
the gecko-dragon's flames screamed, reaching higher yet.
 
"you are of the land. the land remembers you."
 
it curled its head backwards, bending far back into a circular arc towards its tail. its flaming belly formed a ring. it spun, clucking and clicking and burning and burning. dark as dark ever knew to be. cold as an arctic night.
 
"wait-- wait, no!"
 
 
 
a man stood in a cave inside his mind. he was face to face with darkness, and the faint sound of a gecko's clucking somewhere in the distance.
spdred
Written by spdred (spidey)
Published | Edited 12th Sep 2019
Author's Note
"i pray for the man who misses his motherland. but for the man who does not, i can only weep. he will live and die in absence of himself."
-grandma, at some point (paraphrased & translated)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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