Mad disquietude in a lifeless sky (part 2)

Scratchy, waterlogged grains aim to inhale my every step; in an effort to avoid sinking into the impregnate floor, these churning feet learn expeditiously to press gingerly and without lapse.  Aside from the constant noise of water as it rushes inland (and the occasional, heart quickening wail beyond the outcrop) there is little disruption in the lumbering, uneasy silence. Yon drizzling, blue-green sky is absent the feathered things one might find along the sea-shore. I’d seen naught one screaming gull or puffin. Even the knife-like rocks -which jut from the water at random- are clear of crustaceans. Additionally, there have been no sightings (or trace) of anyone...familiar or otherwise. While my weary, unenthusiastic attention continues to inch evenly along the shale wall -- above me, the sky proceeds to weep larger goblets of sorrow and effectively hasten these efforts to find that elusive dimple in the rusted barricade. When at last, a bare juncture between opposing pinnacles is found, my jaded expression brightens. The overhang is barely deep enough to house someone pressed alongside the wall -- but it was (mostly) escaping the majority of these oppressive elements. The right half of my body settles against the rigid wall; pressing both feather and skin into the glossy, moisture laden surface. While heaven continues to drizzle beyond that shallow mouth, my fatigue accumulates…despite visible exhaustion, true sleep of any measure is hard to obtain. Since my impromptu arrival in purgatory...this flesh has desperately craved it… ---- I awake suddenly, hot…sticky. Bloodshot pupils are dish-shaped in their sunken nest; the horrid recollection which jarred me into awareness still lingers…a nightmare of slimy, alien feelers and yawning, crusted mouths. Needles of pain marathon down these numbing contours as my slumping body rights itself. Irises cast a wary glance along the vacant, misted shoreline – compulsions speculate that a bathe would relieve some measure of discomfort. Fringes emerge from their dank shelter resentfully and when at last I pull clear of the protrusion and step into the open…A choking lament of disbelief surges from these yawning brims. She (there is no mistaking that pale face and rivaling tinge) is here…ambling in my direction! Apprehension disrupts my melancholy expression and inspires the clammy follicles on my nape to erect. Ears incline warily. The lashing of our previous encounter throbs vulnerably. Sun-stained hollows return to their scabbard, hanging loosely against my sleek waist. Despite the conflict of emotions churning inside -- my compassion (even when torn and bled) is as inexhaustible as the salt beside us. Turbulent and protective. It unfurls, strengthening my paternal resolve. This neck uncurls, straining beneath the hash of unkempt thatch. These painted forelimbs churn with snail-like slowness; despite the will of my heart, the flesh is wary to rush headlong into another pass at consolidation...lest, those doubt warn, our intentions become opposing. "Hile," brims deliver softly as we near…irises pass gently over her expression; and what they find is kindling for my naive, tattered ambition. This humble, trembling muzzle extends – inhaling her potent essence and welcoming the child -- nay, woman -- beside me. “Walk with me?”

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