A rendering of tendons: Two kings in a tug of war, where ropes are tender muscles— a battle between siamese twins, who want to be two rather than whole. Their snapping sinews frozen, seconds from exploding. Imagine the pain of being stuck in that state— on the verge of death, yet trapped in purgatory wrapped into one another by layers of basalt and the cruel hands that sculpted them in there. They could never be twins, either. One is fat with virility, with youthful virginity just visible through the warm mess of viscera, pulling away from the rotting reflection to his right. A husk with bones poking through pallid skin, every groove through the dais’ stonework seems to be strained veins. Is it his future self? Or is it his darker side? Their mouths shout no answer at me. Just screams, endless screams.
‘My Purest Pantheon, Dais Three’ will be posted on Monday 6th September at 8am.
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© Thomas Gallimore Barker, 2021