08-15-2020, 06:19 AM
THE TACTICIAN
Someday I’ll make something out of me, years of imitating mastery only made me a better thief
Something may not seep from the realm reality bore with a tense finality based on the festering growth settled into delicate chambers, cloying the bloom hate carved until it was all that may be known. Yet, within the disquieted threads of unravelling thought, it found welcome soil, a place open and beckoning, decay a lulling song as skeletal fingers plucked loose strings. Had been it them possibly all may be well, the vacancy present behind once bright depths may receded, a spark for a flame.
In. Burning pressure, the overfilled lungs offered weak protest at the withhold of release, clumsy each step. Out. Hiccuped exhale, laughter that should not have danced upon the severe turn lips held, yet there it lay, a mockery. Before the light filtering through cavernous space may touch upon child gone was it, swept aside until tightly had been pressed the closure of mouth. There was no aid of thought in action, simply comfort sought as closer did they stumble, a listless boat merely allowing the tide to do as it may wish.
Reaching, hesitation, moments if contact was permitted. Miniscule felt Harlow before her, the broken princess who carried within her veins the eye of endless storm, subdued and quiet in a manner she carried poorly, reaching for her. Too soon must they depart, rolling hitch breaking breathy they tried in vein to stifle, placement found where few had gathered. Short their time of solitude, much too so, but welcome at least this company.
Into weight did they nestle, selfish their want to take and take the comfort Lovekit offered with such contact, uncaring that he sought it in kind. Upwards the lift of chin until under jaw was their nose briefly pressed, all they may muster for now though the desire to draw him closer cast an itch beneath their skin.
In. Burning pressure, the overfilled lungs offered weak protest at the withhold of release, clumsy each step. Out. Hiccuped exhale, laughter that should not have danced upon the severe turn lips held, yet there it lay, a mockery. Before the light filtering through cavernous space may touch upon child gone was it, swept aside until tightly had been pressed the closure of mouth. There was no aid of thought in action, simply comfort sought as closer did they stumble, a listless boat merely allowing the tide to do as it may wish.
Reaching, hesitation, moments if contact was permitted. Miniscule felt Harlow before her, the broken princess who carried within her veins the eye of endless storm, subdued and quiet in a manner she carried poorly, reaching for her. Too soon must they depart, rolling hitch breaking breathy they tried in vein to stifle, placement found where few had gathered. Short their time of solitude, much too so, but welcome at least this company.
Into weight did they nestle, selfish their want to take and take the comfort Lovekit offered with such contact, uncaring that he sought it in kind. Upwards the lift of chin until under jaw was their nose briefly pressed, all they may muster for now though the desire to draw him closer cast an itch beneath their skin.
code by Reggan