Crossing the Border pt.i

From my coche,

I saw a man,

with half an arm.

He had battled a great dragon.

And the dragon said,

“I will feast on your anger or your arms.”

And the man was unwilling

to nourish the beast with his wrath.

And the dragon began to gnaw

on the tips of his fingers.

And the man raged on the dragon,

kicking at his throat.

And the dragon bit the man’s wrists

and the blood flowed,

both the man’s and the dragons.

And the dragon struck and missed

but ripped off the man’s shirt

and struck again, this time

locking onto the man’s shoulder

and his scales glimmered in the light.

The powerful neck thrashed and the jaw snapped

and one arm was no more.

And the man recoiled

and kicked the throat and broke a few scales

and the blood ran down the dragon's neck.

And the dragon snapped his teeth into the remaining elbow

and jerked his head back 

and came away with half an arm in his mouth.

And the man’s blood ran over the dragon’s lips,

and mixed with the dragon’s blood

as it ran down his neck.

Then the man crouched down and leapt at the dragon

and clung to it’s neck with his half-arm

and bit at the place 

where the scales were broken.

And the dragon trashed his neck

but was unable to shake the man

who kept biting,

and the dragon’s blood kept flowing.

So the dragon spread his wings 

and shot up into the sky,

the man still biting, 

the man still clinging 

with half an arm.

And the dragon flew straight up, 

higher and higher until the streets were no longer recognizable

and the air thinned and the man struggled for breath

and his half-arm was weakened

and eventually he lost his grip on the bloody neck

and fell back to earth, 

slipping out of consciousness.

The streets came into view 

and the man was asleep

and the man smashed into the ground but he was already asleep.

His wounds were cauterized on the burning pavement.

He awoke with no shirt and his half-arm.

He raged but there was no dragon.

He kicked at the air but there was no throat.

He bit at the car tires but never drew blood.

In the confusion, he raged even more

and wore himself out.

And he grew weak 

and the air thinned

and eventually he lost his grip 

on the bloody reality.

And he fell back, deep into himself, slipping out of sanity.

The streets came into view 

but the man is asleep

and he never said a word.