if the heavens ever did speak; etro

[sleaze]

I’ll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies tell you my sins so you can sharpen your knife He’d never thought himself particularly broken, Before. He had not been well, by any means; he had been a plain boy, a devout boy, one who would not be missed when he was gone. (The lattermost part of that is still true, perhaps – but he is no longer plain, nor is he devout.) But then, in a waterfall, in a cascade, the time went missing and he awoke purple. The time went missing and he awoke with strange and tarnished memories of impossible things and impossible faces. Time went missing and he awoke like this, a possessor, able to touch their minds. (Save for hers. Praise be, save for hers.) She speaks of how her home doesn’t want her there and he wants to say he understands but he doesn’t not exactly. He knows similar feelings, but not in the way she had – he has not been poisoned by the very land he once loved. (But then, he’s never loved any land.) “Maybe we could,” he affirms, and the idea sounds idyllic – a place to call home, where his mind stays within him. (He can deal with the rest. Surely, he can deal with the rest.) “Yes,” he says. Yes, it would be wonderful. “I wasn’t born here,” he tells her. He wonders if it matters, “I don’t know anywhere except the meadow.” sleaze cancer x garbage

(agggh sorry for the crap my msue isn't around today)