01-24-2019, 12:03 PM
@[Sabbath]
Basically - we goin' to Pangea. HAVE FUN WITH THE PLAGGUUUEEE! You can reply here - or post there!
When you live so long - the here and now is all that matters. Life stretches like a never ending serpent - mouth to tail, day in and out, ageless fury folding in on itself. There is no way to die (is there?) - there is no need to fear (that is an unknown taste in His mouth). He knows the feeling, though. He has stirred it into the depths of too many - he has crawled into the caverns of their mind as they have roiled in the aftermath of his actions. He has felt how fast the chambers of the heart furiously push. He has felt the waveuponwave washing through (run, fear, escape, stop, fear, fear, fear). He knows that trepidation that causes a tremble in your step - you are battling something (instinct versus desire?) - you are afraid, but you are aching with desire.
There is hunger deep inside you, roiling over to the tiptop of your throat, your teeth, your gums, spilling out and onto the floor. You are sohungry (-- for the world? For Him?) A nip is not enough - you want a mouthful, you will be unsatiated until you are hanging by your neck, writhing for more (just a taste, please - just a bite a sip a nibble). The battle inside you is too easy to read for Him - and he can see that there is no way out of this for you (not this time). You have tightened the rope in your feasting on magic - the chair is wavering, the wood splintering (your fate is calling).
You change - a swarth of sadness crawling on your skin where ferocity used to be. You are soft, wavering on the edge of uncertainty (oh my, what a change from just moments ago!) - lost at sea, and reflecting in the waves your actual age. You are just a child - a lamb with wolf teeth - an imposter in this wide, wide world. You are lost; and you say as much (as if He could not tell; could not read that worrypanicloss on your face - in your mind). You seek direction (oh why would you seek it from him?!) But you seem to know that monsters are better than being alone. Befriending the dark things in the night is the best option when they are coming to hunt you.
He is quiet, unanswering your plea that peels out in the dark. What should you do? (You should run - but you know that, don’t you?) You are tied to the noose, you can only go so far before you are dragged back down. You do not know how trapped you are, little one. You have plucked the apple from the tree; you have bit into the sacred fruit - you have tasted magic, and now you will never be able to go back. You will always lust for that effervescent taste. Nothing will be the same again.
You are waiting, looking upwards for Him to show you what is next - how to find yourself again. You have waited for so long -- you do not have to wait any longer.
He heals - His skin pulling over the bones He is mending, feathers sprouting where blood and ripped skin once was. In moments, your handiwork is gone - your taste of heaven (of hell?) has sealed shut, and he is whole (physically, at least) once more.
“You will come with me.” There is no question nor challenge in His voice, it is a statement, simple and forthright. Your snakeskin body belonged to you no longer.
Basically - we goin' to Pangea. HAVE FUN WITH THE PLAGGUUUEEE! You can reply here - or post there!
no matter what they say, I am still the king
When you live so long - the here and now is all that matters. Life stretches like a never ending serpent - mouth to tail, day in and out, ageless fury folding in on itself. There is no way to die (is there?) - there is no need to fear (that is an unknown taste in His mouth). He knows the feeling, though. He has stirred it into the depths of too many - he has crawled into the caverns of their mind as they have roiled in the aftermath of his actions. He has felt how fast the chambers of the heart furiously push. He has felt the waveuponwave washing through (run, fear, escape, stop, fear, fear, fear). He knows that trepidation that causes a tremble in your step - you are battling something (instinct versus desire?) - you are afraid, but you are aching with desire.
There is hunger deep inside you, roiling over to the tiptop of your throat, your teeth, your gums, spilling out and onto the floor. You are sohungry (-- for the world? For Him?) A nip is not enough - you want a mouthful, you will be unsatiated until you are hanging by your neck, writhing for more (just a taste, please - just a bite a sip a nibble). The battle inside you is too easy to read for Him - and he can see that there is no way out of this for you (not this time). You have tightened the rope in your feasting on magic - the chair is wavering, the wood splintering (your fate is calling).
You change - a swarth of sadness crawling on your skin where ferocity used to be. You are soft, wavering on the edge of uncertainty (oh my, what a change from just moments ago!) - lost at sea, and reflecting in the waves your actual age. You are just a child - a lamb with wolf teeth - an imposter in this wide, wide world. You are lost; and you say as much (as if He could not tell; could not read that worrypanicloss on your face - in your mind). You seek direction (oh why would you seek it from him?!) But you seem to know that monsters are better than being alone. Befriending the dark things in the night is the best option when they are coming to hunt you.
He is quiet, unanswering your plea that peels out in the dark. What should you do? (You should run - but you know that, don’t you?) You are tied to the noose, you can only go so far before you are dragged back down. You do not know how trapped you are, little one. You have plucked the apple from the tree; you have bit into the sacred fruit - you have tasted magic, and now you will never be able to go back. You will always lust for that effervescent taste. Nothing will be the same again.
You are waiting, looking upwards for Him to show you what is next - how to find yourself again. You have waited for so long -- you do not have to wait any longer.
He heals - His skin pulling over the bones He is mending, feathers sprouting where blood and ripped skin once was. In moments, your handiwork is gone - your taste of heaven (of hell?) has sealed shut, and he is whole (physically, at least) once more.
“You will come with me.” There is no question nor challenge in His voice, it is a statement, simple and forthright. Your snakeskin body belonged to you no longer.
∞
and now the storm is coming, the storm is coming in