Deimos the Reaper You can't take back the cards you've dealt on this long and lonely road to hell the throne must be such a sad and lonely place And yet - It all hurt because that was how he lived his life, in a series of losses, pain, and anguish, because he couldn’t rid himself of every tragedy that shook him to the core, because once he’d blasted apart the world and now it just pummeled at him, one thing after another after another. He didn’t know what else to do. How not to sink. How not to mire and ruin himself. And for a moment he panicked, as she went down below the depths, wondering if this was the end of the dream and he’d have to return back to his forged-hell, where anything that had gone well spiraled so tragically in the other direction. His eyes widened, his mouth parted, and he thought about crashing down into the ripples, the waves, himself – And then she came right back up, and the breath he held stayed lodged in his chest, feral and depleted. “So why is it not?” He said, he uttered, he begged, he pleaded, arms beckoning her closer until his embrace was tight around her too, and he wouldn’t lose her again. “Okay. You can say anything to me too. I will always listen.” To the ghosts, to the phantoms, to the wraiths pervading his every essence. |
Photo taken at Hero's Square in Budapest, Hungary
