DEIMOS
He could hear her, but the words were murky, hard to register through the abyss threatening to take him down. It had for a while now, biding its time until he truly collapsed, broken and disassembled, no more walls left to burn down. His trappings were of his own making, the snare wrapped tight around his neck, a noose, pulling, binding, bearing until everything was hard to grasp, difficult to maintain. “What do you want to hear?” A harsh intake of breath, a rumbling whisper, choking on some bizarre conflagration of rage and despair, because he really couldn’t take all of this anymore. “That I would be fine?”
A snarl threatened to take over his features, but he hid it, tucked it against his knees, poured everything back inside himself – just the same, a common mechanism to stop and cease the pain. “But I am the one who will suffer.” Except it never really worked, and she’d be gone too, and if he was lucky enough he’d see her some other day, when she’d realized he wasn’t worth the agony, the trouble, or she’d pilfer off into the sunset, find something better, something brighter, something more fulfilling than him.
The weight seized and coiled, and he had no way to remove it, no way to explain, no way to do anything but fester and decay inside, back to the decrepit motions, to what he’d always understood. “I have always tried to give, and give, and give. I could protect them. I could shield them. They would live.” If he threw his heart and soul into the fire, into the brimstone, they’d be safe. They’d be secure. They’d withstand, tall and proud, while he bled out on cobblestones. “But they do not. They make promises they cannot keep. They disappear. They die. I am not enough to keep anyone here.” With me went unsaid. Hadn’t he told her before?
Another whisper, quieter and softer, followed through. “And I am alone again.”
A snarl threatened to take over his features, but he hid it, tucked it against his knees, poured everything back inside himself – just the same, a common mechanism to stop and cease the pain. “But I am the one who will suffer.” Except it never really worked, and she’d be gone too, and if he was lucky enough he’d see her some other day, when she’d realized he wasn’t worth the agony, the trouble, or she’d pilfer off into the sunset, find something better, something brighter, something more fulfilling than him.
The weight seized and coiled, and he had no way to remove it, no way to explain, no way to do anything but fester and decay inside, back to the decrepit motions, to what he’d always understood. “I have always tried to give, and give, and give. I could protect them. I could shield them. They would live.” If he threw his heart and soul into the fire, into the brimstone, they’d be safe. They’d be secure. They’d withstand, tall and proud, while he bled out on cobblestones. “But they do not. They make promises they cannot keep. They disappear. They die. I am not enough to keep anyone here.” With me went unsaid. Hadn’t he told her before?
Another whisper, quieter and softer, followed through. “And I am alone again.”
i'm in the mood to dissolve in the sky
