She came to this land in fetters and a dead man's clothing. No food for that aching belly, just a hundred curses for the High Priestesses.
Visions of salt water and warm black blood. Floating away from the depths towards greater rewards.
She was the only creature I'll ever envy.
She passed down more than mitochondria but our line was easily tainted. I disappointed.
She was successfully in rejecting her humanity.
"Do you feel better now?”
No. I made another mistake. I shouldn’t have let this out. My thoughts are my own. They’re-
Yeah. Who has ears to hear and isn’t bound? I’m preaching into the Cave as the fire roars, my own fetters still intact. There’s a world out there, an ocean of galaxies. But here we are, in the midst of the Pixel Age, still amusing ourselves with the shadows on the wall. They say it’s a revolution, the first age in which we've been free to share and free to learn.
Doesn’t look like that to me. No maam. Looks like an era of the individual, where any wretch with an internet connection is free to loose themselves upon the globe, lose them themselves in the scrolling, the clicking, the loops. Add-delete-heart-friend-like-unfollow. Lone faces front-lit in pale blue, spilling every thought and opinion, flooding the network with bits innumerable and banal self-portraiture.
Aimlessness for the masses, by the masses. But it doesn’t matter what I say. I'm guilty. I’m the youth at the end of the bar by his ownfuckingself, hunched over a scavenged piece of paper, clinging to pen and whiskey with aching knuckles. If she understood, it was on a plane of consciousness higher than my own. A smile played at the corner of her pale lips. “This weakness is in your flesh. Young one, it cannot be helped." Her finger moved to my carotid, tracing the trembling line.
My heart struggled on. A tiresome process, pumping.
She seemed to hear. “Don’t worry on it. It’s the flesh that binds you, that keeps you here. Your form is weak. It is pure matter. Nothing, from where I sit, but everything in your microcosm.” Her eyes were empty. No apologies or pity. Just black, silver, and the grays betwixt.
Mine: Fleshy Contempt.
Hers: beyond jade, beyond steel, something impenetrable. Rare Mithril Soul.
IT HAS BEEN LONELY HERE
IN THE DEPTHS
THESE WAVES SWALLOW
[MITHRIL // FLESH]
I FEEL NO PAIN AND NO PITY
ABOVE, JUST AS BELOW
MASS FACES FRONT LIT IN
[FLICKERING ORANGE//PALE BLUE]
THE POWER IS IN THE
FACT AND PHOTON
I CAN HARDLY CONTROL THIS
[APATHY // CONTEMPT]
CRAWLING TO THE END OF MY YOUTH
WHO HAS EYES TO SEE?
I AM BESEIGED
IN NEED OF ALLIES