Untitled

Their eyes penetrate.

More and more, and I know it's suspicion.

I have been shrugging a lot. Too many questions to which I have no answers. I can only agree. Funny thing is, for their, as I am told, horrid encounters with some of the most vigilant wood elves and ferocious wolves, of which I had none, what irks them the most is that I haven't been absolutely devoured by mosquitos.

We all took the same journey.

All slept in Donn's marches, taking the old druids' route. However those poor blotched bastards, visibly restraining their would-be scratching fingers, did far more slapping than sleeping. There were no words, and the outpouring of frustration and hands waving was quite humorous, but maybe I shouldn't have said I slept like a baby.

They actually demanded I show that I bleed!

As if I am some vampire, or walking corpse. What nonsense. I had the brilliant idea to cut my tongue. Just a little nick. And, of course, I bled. But tongues heal quickly and at least I didn't have to answer anymore dumb questions for a moment. I would just point at my tongue, mumble gibberish, and shrug.

I don't know why the frogs were silent. I don't know why the rain didn't get past the trees' canopies apparently just for me. I don't know why I found some kind of squirrel stash of assorted nuts in that gap at the root of an oak tree. Nor why it had herbs and mushrooms that together made a hearty meal.

Come to think of mushrooms, an owl swooped by and flipped the pot with my own shroomy stew recipe.

Did I pick a wrong ingredient?

I went to sleep hungry but I woke up with a handful of berries I didn't eat (or pick), and when I let them nourish me I thought this is exactly the kind of magic that happens when you take an old druids' route. But then I made it to base camp.

And everyone was just complaining.

I couldn't.

I had quite enjoyed the journey. But now I'm just lying awake wondering why I got a special treatment.

Awake, because every once in a while some dumbass comes to check whether I will splatter into myriad bats flying into the night or something. I'm thinking of the mosquitos; the humans are exhausting and I wish I could slap them. I want to go back to the trees. I spotted an old one I'll climb tomorrow. I'll hide there after the circle meet. Just gotta keep this exact rage aflame, so it can keep me from becoming too jolly drunk to climb where I need to be.

I wake up.

The circle speaks of war.

I don't really care they destroyed the Irminsûl. Dead trees never spoke to me no matter how high their trunks reach or once reached. Old trees do, but, clearest through their greenest leaves. Still, apparently this loss of dead wood is a big deal. Maybe it is. The sky didn't change though, and all I ever did was look up at the clearance. I imagine the fire would have been blinding for a while. But now we can see again.

So what's the point?

I wonder why I am here. People speak like ghosts. Phantom speech echoing bygone years. Can't they see the wind bristling the leaves? I only see that upsweep. I want to be there.

Not this sword and this shield. All of a sudden I know why I am here: southpaw by choice; therein the flesh-turned irony of bruising and bashing a man to a pulp with the boss of a shield. They consider me a force. I could be, but all I can think of is this one time a gargantuan boar charged at me, and I just climbed up into a tree. That's how easy it can be.

A great evil rises in me. When I look at them chowing down on animals snared dishonorably in gluttony. A feast, they call it. I call it the disease. No fawn should end up spit roasted when the belly's already full with rabbit meat. An entire leg of goat falls into the fiery ashes below and they laugh because there is, still, plenty. This, their fight for preservation. I am murderous. And for a second I think I can take them all. Not just the humans around this bonfire. Every human.

This is the rage I wanted to keep.

I am drunk now, that's for sure. Dumb enough to speak my heart, but not dumbed enough to actually do so. I know I want to punish and kill; to snare those cretins into a one-on-one, or two, or three on me. I have the rage exactly where I want it to be. And that's why I become phantasmagoria, fleeing. Unseen. Up into that tree. A shadow flickering to that dismal bonfire's flames.

I am far away from here.

I lie supine on the biggest tallest branch with my hands in my neck and my legs crossed and my mind wandering off to those far off stars seemingly tickled by the wind-rattled greenest leaves. And as the full moon rises, it suddenly seems so much brighter. Double vision confuses me. No, it is a star. Some kind of light globule closing in on me, fluttering tintinnabularly. I have trouble focusing.

But I hear:

Would you YOU(!) like to be be… so

SO!

small? small as me small

small? would you you like like to to come come (with)

me?

curled in the underside of my tongue;

you are the cage I rest my passion within.

The sure quantifying edges of

you keeping me from dissolving

yet. I am dissolved.

The shock of being the

song severed seduction

as I am lost in your touch.

Tell me. Was all this my twisting

writhing fever dream. Or would you

most pleasurably, devastate me?

A silver thread beneath my skin still answers when I hear your call

You haunt the corners of my sleep, you linger where the shadows bloom

A phantom king, a sacred curse that follows me from room to room

The stars themselves grow sick with us, they watch our endless rise and wreck

For every vow I tried to break, returned as fingers at my neck

I drank the dark to lose your name, yet found it written in my veins

A fever carved into my soul, a sweet obsession dressed in chains

No priest could cut the tether loose, no god could sever what was sewn

For even when I fade away, I drag your heartbeat with my own

And if the world should end tonight with fire consuming sea and sky

And the man that came after

You were too young to understand

That love was meant to be free

Meant to be given and received

That your heart was worth fighting for

You deserved a stronger fight

For your right to believe what you do

Instead of hiding it, instead of keeping it in

You deserved to let your flag fly high

And proud and free

You deserved better from me

But you’re safe now, kept in my memory

The joy, the laughter, the me I used to be

I’m sorry, so sorry