the earth stole the envoy and it wasn’t nice
the sky took him and the ground took you and you can’t you can’t you can’t you can’t breat h e waiting waiting dirt fills your mouth your brother beneath you screaming with no mouth your love eaten by the void of blue and you are being crushed but not quite dead but not quite alive but not quite awake but not quite asleep whe n w i ll it end but you have no air to ask and the ground holds you tighter and
does not answer
a pillar and the voice inside it
what does it mean to be You?
no eyes to see, no mouth to speak, no hands to feel, no stomach to f e e d…
only a spool of thread where your throat used to be. no tongue to taste it but you clutch tight to sensation because there is no other You to focus on. in time the thread unspools and twists into the You that doesn’t exist. when you sing you weave and you were already patient but this is different because you are making and
one day your web will snap tight and your smile will be victory and the stomach you don’t have will be full and the space where You used to be won’t be so empty, empty…. empty ………empty ……you will use the thread and you won’t be
a l o n e
a cat is the top of the food chain
You don’t remember, but the RipTe arFindH u n t sits quietly and Waits. Your claws find you purchase. ( Your claws pinned Prey to rip-- ) Your teeth nip at hands, reminding them the most important thing is You, of course. ( Your teeth were ready to tear--) Your eyes are the sharpest around, you rest on your tower and nothing passes by without your notice. ( Your eyes saw Prey and the last thing Prey saw was you-- ) Your nose finds the best food, the best meat. ( You breathed deep, it was time to hunt you had to hunt it was like —)
Like an itch. But you don’t need to scratch an itch if you don’t know
remember it’s there
oh no, the thing you hate wormed inside
they are monsters and they kill and destroy and you stop it and you are not like them and you aren’t
your thoughts have echoes
your muscles twitch with impulses you don’t have
your reflection looks back and sometimes it isn’t
the infection making itself at home in your bones and how did this happen?
doesn’t matter. too late. there’s too many roots.
the lantern will take you
It will be a good burn, right?
not pointless, it's going to help and that makes it meaningful, right?
(You can’t think about the burst that took him and that he is not hear to tell you No)
You are sure to be measly tinder but this will end it, right?
the fire will take you and it will be over, r i g h t?
too late for regret you’re already lost in b u r n i n g but
at least it isn’t