"Almost there!" said the facetiousness of the grinning face. "Let's start over again..." almost as if spoken from the true puppet master, Merlin. "And Tom? You are owned. Don't forget."
the Prometheus death fit for humankind, take it then take it and see how we are born, see how we’ll die.
dried leaves rustle like fading nightmares, an urge to suck in colors before me
the tea cup shatters only once
blood and sweat makes the seed.
“I know you saw something in the light, Tom. We all did. You can’t trust the words of a fucking maniac that tried to kill us—you have to trust what you saw.”
“Think, Lauren. Really think. Why would she tell me this otherwise?”
“To not remember!” Lauren inched closer to him, eyes blazing. He couldn’t look away from her if he tried. “If I remember Clarence at least, then she’s real to me.”
I want to acknowledge that the topics mentioned may be triggering. This is a content warning as the following information relates to a convicted pedophile and CSA.
I, a radiohead hear voices I hear peoples screams live peoples nightmares water board cruelty splints under nails
A hyper-sensitivity of feeling your art connects across the senses The roughness of ancient bark beneath gentle fingertips A kiss from rock-pool water warm against bare ankles
I put myself in a reality equaled only to repudiation. The world in its deepest corner effused my bone.
think, with all the indentations in the death bed of poetry
“This. Is. Unreal.” Tom was awed at the things they found inside, and the group dispersed to collect whatever they could. There'd even be a few bags in there, marked with a symbol Tom and Lauren seen before. Unwanted memories flashed before his eyes, Tom struggling to keep down what he saw. Zara’s demise, Lauren cutting through her wrists, and the writ of the symbols. He swore he could just kill himself from the things he no longer understood, and judging the way Lauren stared back, she may have caught on to a similar realization. There was a connection between all living things, while the dead were used as symbolism for further placement. The encoding and scripture only revealed a partial story of the island, and it must have been at least thousands of years old. When the siblings' eyes met, they knew they had something to discuss.
skin on hand lavender rises hugged by madsuns
The fields sluiced with rain on the leafing of memory, On each rock and scree living in the Appalachian breeze.
This band of amateurs coming after me to carry me home on sweat-soaked shoulders, shirts cotton, buttoned down
It was an honor collaborating with Devika of My Valiant Soul on this piece.
Boxer, can you see through bloodied vision? this conflict born from all of Adam's sons subterfuge meets necessity in life's arena
silent to my blood along the bone garden I have known the women, living and dead
Written by Andrada Costoiu (chapter two) and B.V. Stratton (chapter three), this joint chapter delves a little into the sibling’s past but questions still arise. Resigning himself to trust his “newfound” sister, they make a break to the other side of the island as a last minute escape (as Tom blew their original plan). Lauren is more resourceful than she looks, and all Tom wanted to know was the truth. What is the cost of learning it and would it be safe for him to know? Though how unfortunate for the sibling iconoclasts that someone lurks in the shadows.
The dead die young Ernest Albert Bett your concrete grave is a trough with no pigs yet in it just convolvulus and ivy