There's no small amount of desperation seeping out of the cracks.


The sickness within suppressed by sheer effort of will.


The left scars ache with the fires that locked away language of the body.


The right thing perhaps to do is leave.


But I don't want to break from your side,

And the ground screams goodbye.

"You just wanted to hear me scream, didn't you?"

chuckle
Darling, it's been so long since I heard you moan.

I'll just settle for your screams.

Now all the songs speak of your scratched out mosaic.

The crawling of memories bleeding out into the next pool of tears I create.


It feels like dying, just a hundred times more worse.


I have issues.

You issued my execution warrant by the end of our red strings.

Funny. I don't remember trafficking any drugs.

Unless the drug was the feeling of emasculation, disorientation, disrespect, sordid throwing of caution to the wind.

Then yes.

It's a marsh of filth you made me crawl in.

And you know I would do it all again in a heartbeat.


You're pointless.

A continuous wave of motion into the gloominess of tomorrow.

The layers stripped away, nostalgia be ******.

When we reach the end of this road, in the knowledge we've done all we could.

And I'll know the love unspoken, the fair queen unabashed, naked truth spilling out.


Hoist my shield up high, as I soar to your side once more.

The hunger grows.

Patience stretches off into the horizon.

A king can rule alone, if needed.

He'll wait til the fair queen sits by his side once more.

Soft juicy tender lips slide apart for the racking of the meat slab in the cavern of the beast moist and juicy it slides into it and ends up giving up its life essence for majestic theatres that blare into the silent ticks between the clock.

In the first moment of truth there is brilliance.

In the second moment of truth there is clarity.

In the last moment of truth there is resignation ; the tunnel of darkness exploding into light.

The shears I borrowed from you were rusty, I told you about them before.

The sheer dumbfounded look on my face when you told me I could keep it,
rust and all.

Only Schweer's sorrow was left, when Schwerte's last few denizens came to bid their farewells to you, the spinster with her shears.

He shuffled and wiped specks from his eyes, peering into the distance, observing the blue eyes hidden behind melanin.

Picking up scrolls of knowledge unbound, dust devils rolling in his wake.

Drew the curtains open, spilling golden cloth unto his being, as he wrapped himself in the fading of the light.


Lightly brushing fingertips onto cobwebs long frayed, rot and decay spread, accelerating time and tense til only dust remained.

Dust and memories of a time where he too, once sat as an equal to a young lord, his visions guiding the actions of a fledgling nation.


Now, all remained slipped through his fingers.


He took strides to the door, taking no time to rip open the door that held him in exile.


The Seer In White had returned.

We're one with the flame
And we burn with the flame
Til we contract the blame.

I watched his eyes flare up like the life of a dozen young children were reflected in them.

I watched his gait change, and cycling through emotions he started to dance.

His shoulders drooped as mouth began to sag, and eyes glistened over with tears bridled.


He is my friend.


And I write this for him.