you're too young & eager to love (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
impertinences) wrote2011-10-23 04:25 pm
impertinences) wrote2011-10-23 04:25 pm
Entry tags:
(no subject)
I don’t much feel like writing today, and it doesn’t help that I’m at work. I keep getting distracted. But – I am trying to muster on. With the Hydra. Or my bizarre, makes-no-sense modernized version of her. With references to Hercules, because I can.
-
This new body is long but useless. The dips and curves and stretch of skin you must learn like a newborn. Your fingers end in nails that will never be sharp enough. When you touch your tongue to your teeth, they are blunt, not suited for the shred and tear of victory. You are solitary, a condition that frightens you. Inside of you, you think there are many bodies still, many necks straining for freedom. The roar and cry of something bestial, the lashing strength of a serpentine melody. The pain bursts inside of your head until you’re forced to cradle it, the light making you wince, sounds causing you to mourn for the lack of dark, watery depths.
Hunger makes you search. This body cannot hunt, and the monetary system confuses you. You steal, and then there’s a man in your way again. The same man as before, solid and full of glory. You have trouble seeing him this time though, keeping your two limited eyes focused between his footwork and the muscles of his arms. Those arms that held the strength to cage you – once. Made you a guardian of a passageway where the cries of the damned troubled your ears. Stole the venom of your spirit to use for his battles.
You wonder what he can steal now and the scars on your long throat burn with remembrance.
-
This new body is long but useless. The dips and curves and stretch of skin you must learn like a newborn. Your fingers end in nails that will never be sharp enough. When you touch your tongue to your teeth, they are blunt, not suited for the shred and tear of victory. You are solitary, a condition that frightens you. Inside of you, you think there are many bodies still, many necks straining for freedom. The roar and cry of something bestial, the lashing strength of a serpentine melody. The pain bursts inside of your head until you’re forced to cradle it, the light making you wince, sounds causing you to mourn for the lack of dark, watery depths.
Hunger makes you search. This body cannot hunt, and the monetary system confuses you. You steal, and then there’s a man in your way again. The same man as before, solid and full of glory. You have trouble seeing him this time though, keeping your two limited eyes focused between his footwork and the muscles of his arms. Those arms that held the strength to cage you – once. Made you a guardian of a passageway where the cries of the damned troubled your ears. Stole the venom of your spirit to use for his battles.
You wonder what he can steal now and the scars on your long throat burn with remembrance.