Bodies writhing in the scars of the land. Naked and moaning, bubbling up like boiling water. When one lands on the shore, it will scream in terror and pain, skitter and scurry back into the gorges. Flashes of maggots filling a rotten wound on mother Gaia.
Reminiscences of adventure. House of lust, house of anarchy. Only good luck and divine guardians are given gratitude to those matters. Death or confinement were my choices. I’m tired of choices.
Midpoint through the sentence. Legionnaires of the divine flash inside like the first pearlescent rays of light over the break in horizon.
Imaginations that I’m training, fantasizing that it’s all been leading to something. I dare not speak the words they call me.
Doubt swirls like a black smoke caught by a vacuum, twisting and obscurant. Wondering what to believe. Desperately waiting for something worth waiting for.
Humorous in parts though, for what experiences I can claim, I still sometimes want hordes more. All life, condensed and daring. Self shackled to a new conduct, old wilds want out.
Want to risk everything? It’s a hell of a rush.
Gateways still flicker amongst the realms, still allow passage to new worlds. Spiriting away. Old legends tell me so. Just need to find one.
Ever reaching fields of Elysium call on days like this. I miss home. Shades of pinks and blues radiating like waves off the sun. An auroral spectacular, you can almost feel it’s current and force while waves come over.
Patience llama, that’s all you need.
