300_there goes my hero
So it begins. As always. In the storm you can depend on none for your salvation. It's all really in whatever redemption you earned from your own hands.
The one against many. The one... against the world. Who will support? One cannot worry. They will come. They will arise... or the won't. The best will come regardless. That is why you picked them. The unwanted. The scourged of society. For by picking them, they would offer unto you the loyalty so fierce. Shunned by the world... what did they have to loose. What did anyone have to loose?
The world.
So piecemeal.
So lost wandering.
Unknowing.
What was worth something, and what was merely tinfoil.
A shiny new thing to distract.
The masses.
From the grind of life living. Can you understand? Do you understand?
She... oh don't bring up the She...
Was beautiful... but that could never be enough, She listened to to the voices inside her head. Crying out that her breasts were malformed. With a doctors switch, a tiny cut... all would be well... in that which was so perfect. Run from that which knows in imperfection was beauty. All it took was money... ever so precious... to remove the human condition
The snip... the scalpel. All under the doctors supervision. Undergo that which made her human... to transform into a porcelain doll.
All the while... he fought. Perhaps blindly to save her... the one beyond salvation... or perhaps for himself... earning a redemption that was never needed. Save the fight. World you will not take me, I will not be supplicant to your travesty. The travesty of your justice.
Obey. Though you see the creation, supplication, of unequals surround. Believe that you are somehow less than... though you are obviously excel. Listen to the voices that tell you...
not that you are less than...
;
but rather you are more powerful than you could ever know.
Remain defiant in defeat....
The world waits to delight in you
The gods wait to rejoice
You are their son
...or daughter
With each smite
Each hit
Rejoice...
For the world will never know. What can you expect? Drown yourself in your own laughter. Stand and fight. If not you... then who? Forever remain the one who is just one step out the majority. Civilization has never progressed, not without its dissidents. Smiling.
Curving.
Waiting...
Only for the moment.
You are only the three hundred. Standing against those that would make you bow. Kneel. Give an knee. Your answer, all the while, is only your grip only is tighter on your sword.
Wednesday, March 14, 2018
Tuesday, March 6, 2018
One of these days
Foo Fighters - These Days
These days.
Is it worth it.
Even.
He looked at his phone, Call from a number ever so private. Could it be her? He laughed. He had thought so much in the past. He had gotten calls so purposeful, so accidental. He would hear her confess that even though she had supposed learned the language, Hell, even joined into it, she needed one who could speak her mother tongue.
After all she was the perfect mother.
Or she would be...
One of these days.
It wasn't her. It could never be her.
It would never....
be her.
She could, she would, turn her body... till the viewers eyes were caught... just right. Just right. Shadow dances with her self. With her soul. She had forgotten. Or allowed herself to forget. What it all was really for.
Really...
For.
Yet reality would only remind...
How much
She gave up...
In a price...
She could not bear.
So she would dance in the window. Bearing nightclothes clinging, translucent. Who might she catch. Don't worry... she would release them all. To swim away, yet hover close, to see... if she... actually cared. Ever actually cared. If the dream was nothing more than a hollow reflection of that which was desired to be. Ever so desired.
One of these days...
If the dance ever stopped...
She would see...
Would have to live with...
What she had done...
So the dance would never stop.
It couldn't.
Hollow pirouettes casting out into the shadowlands, until...
One of these days...
You stop. Which will happen.
And your heart will play its final beat.
These days.
Is it worth it.
Even.
He looked at his phone, Call from a number ever so private. Could it be her? He laughed. He had thought so much in the past. He had gotten calls so purposeful, so accidental. He would hear her confess that even though she had supposed learned the language, Hell, even joined into it, she needed one who could speak her mother tongue.
After all she was the perfect mother.
Or she would be...
One of these days.
It wasn't her. It could never be her.
It would never....
be her.
She could, she would, turn her body... till the viewers eyes were caught... just right. Just right. Shadow dances with her self. With her soul. She had forgotten. Or allowed herself to forget. What it all was really for.
Really...
For.
Yet reality would only remind...
How much
She gave up...
In a price...
She could not bear.
So she would dance in the window. Bearing nightclothes clinging, translucent. Who might she catch. Don't worry... she would release them all. To swim away, yet hover close, to see... if she... actually cared. Ever actually cared. If the dream was nothing more than a hollow reflection of that which was desired to be. Ever so desired.
One of these days...
If the dance ever stopped...
She would see...
Would have to live with...
What she had done...
So the dance would never stop.
It couldn't.
Hollow pirouettes casting out into the shadowlands, until...
One of these days...
You stop. Which will happen.
And your heart will play its final beat.
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