These Blind Mice (Chapter One)These Blind MiceThese Blind Mice (Chapter One) by ~druinfly
(link to Prologue beneath)
"Do threads sleep?" I queried the noisy entity streaming me information. "Sometimes, however time is not measured by consciousness in this reality", Token didn't as much speak but pushed the thought through my awareness. He has this way of letting my mind fill in the words. I am sitting for awhile thinking about consciousness and the implications it holds on this reality. I conclude once again that such thinking is better done in a waking reality where holding on to absolutes (as impossible as they are) are much more possibly achieved. None of it matters really, but I do note that it'
These Blind MicePrologue (Very Rough Draft)These Blind Mice by ~druinfly
There is a tentative-anxious feeling gripping my chest as I press these buttons, symbols that if strung together correctly may impart this story with the proper gravity. It's not unlike the feeling I had when I first awoke among disheveled sheets and sweat gripping my brow with a dream lingering behind it. Running down stairs and racing myself around corners I leap at a pen and pad and begin to scribble as if I was a case in an asylum. Symbols and names, the oldest magic remembered by man- naming.
My name is Enoch in that world, I stand 8 heads tall bristling with understanding and control I could onl
stardrift beta: summitI have fallen into a very deep space in between the land and sea. My fingers dig silently through the warm earth and starlight. I have all the time in the world and I am alone.stardrift beta: summit by ~intercostal-archives
With each fistful of stardust and lightning struck dirt, I dig deeper down past worms and roots until I feel the earth pulling me into its embrace. It is warm like a womb as black sand lightly scopes over my veins, sealing my eyelids like a secret journey. I am no longer digging but sinking.
I am like a droplet of water rolling deeper down into the core, millions of specks of dirt skidding over my surface, never sticking and always letting go.
Tonight I am young and
summer.fireflies and humid nightssummer. by ~intercostal-archives
when feelings and sweat
cling to your skin.
slushies down the block,
and summer editions
of moonshine gin.
being in love
and dreaming of him
while he sends you letters and postcards,
but only wants to be friends.
bonfires, unmelted glass sand
burning your dreams
as fireworks explode in your hands
swing back and forth
beneath the oak trees
studded in your dreams
in summer there is truth
while we lie to ourselves
oh, the lengths we will go
to save us from hell