DEIMOS
Heave the silver hollow sliver
Another with the blight – a sort of shrug signifying an apology in the shift of his shoulders, in the weight of other things they saw themselves fit to bear. The harsh reality of it was that they hadn’t been the ones to create the disease or the monster, but were readily available to mull and pull themselves into the sanctioned calamity without a moment’s hesitation. His previous inquiry though seemed to haunt both – because sometimes he’d rather sink, and sometimes he’d rather shoot to the surface, and sometimes there was a murky in between, a rough, twilight zone haze snapping at his senses. Perhaps that was where he reigned now, tied right along anchors, roots, and lines, driven to the glassy veneer, desperate for a ragging breath, to stretch and reach for something not attainable at the moment. There were too many wounds, too many decrees, too many nuances, and so they’d merely drown when the aches, when the pains, when their lungs gave in, when their souls hit the bottom. So when was that? When was it all too much? When did they overcome, only to find themselves locked back in the same channel and fissures, the current the same, established pounding of surf, shoal, waves collapsing? “We do,” he answered instead, his hands on the hammer still, grip tightening. He paused in his movements, in the motions, tilting his head as if to examine their current labor. “What did we learn from this one?”Unite and spread the heart apart
