DEIMOS
ache first, but then let the cuts close
spit out the blood
spit out the blood
He would have craved nothing more than to retreat back into himself - alone and tired and exhausted and scraping away at smoke and fumes. But the words kept him tied to the surface, to grounds as foreign as the rest of the world, with no time to retreat into bones, into grief, into ghosts. On sheer provocations, he wanted to challenge her first statement, nearly raising his jaw in some seditious little mannerism (maybe he could live out here forever, until the time came when they were all called to war); but keeping the tenacity behind his teeth, and all the other edges and fringes.
The following one widened his eyes though, and then followed suit on another sullen sigh, a feral snort. “To what end? What prevents it from becoming a cycle?” Back and forth, forth and back, until they were all perished? Until too many had filled a prison? Until someone’s ideals made sense anymore? “It is the people who suffer the most.” Constantly churning about in other peoples’ powers, their land assaulted and scoured upon? And who was left that would even bother with them? Some didn’t want anything to do with the upcoming debacles, burying their heads in the sands at the notions of neutrality; because it could only exist for so long. Some were busy building their own borders. And some pretended nothing was going to happen at all.
Her response to his inquiry did make him laugh though – a short hollow thing that didn’t linger very long. Something about it simmered amongst insurrection, and that was a far better alternative in his mind than anything else right now. “Good.” At least that was one thing still contained. “I can always cloak myself again,” a shrug, a simpler solution.
The following one widened his eyes though, and then followed suit on another sullen sigh, a feral snort. “To what end? What prevents it from becoming a cycle?” Back and forth, forth and back, until they were all perished? Until too many had filled a prison? Until someone’s ideals made sense anymore? “It is the people who suffer the most.” Constantly churning about in other peoples’ powers, their land assaulted and scoured upon? And who was left that would even bother with them? Some didn’t want anything to do with the upcoming debacles, burying their heads in the sands at the notions of neutrality; because it could only exist for so long. Some were busy building their own borders. And some pretended nothing was going to happen at all.
Her response to his inquiry did make him laugh though – a short hollow thing that didn’t linger very long. Something about it simmered amongst insurrection, and that was a far better alternative in his mind than anything else right now. “Good.” At least that was one thing still contained. “I can always cloak myself again,” a shrug, a simpler solution.
watch your body pull itself back together
then let your soul do the same
then let your soul do the same
