portraitinflesh

depthless eyes seeing what you can’t and you never know they’re their dreaming eyes living what you won’t and you can’t see how fair they are even though your reflexive eyes have seen the end of the curve, wrapping around to start all over again you’re startled, overwhelmed wondering how you’ve been so blind

what’s mine is mine to twist or unwind I know what I hold dear the end is near if you had your way each night you’d erase the next day the price you had to pay was far too high, you ripped apart the sky no explanation why other than wanting to play God you needed no encouraging nod my ally was odd even to you, yet she also betrayed me I can finally see the truth you tried to hide I saw once I died so I turned the tide you are out of time what’s mine is mine

Nausea, not me: I boil within my own skin is a stranger flaming and searing me, not me. The pain is in plain view if only I weren’t hidden if I could see me would I recognize or avert my eyes knowing it has all been taken away. Me, not me not since she, or it, or them Me, why me a chosen vessel without my consent I may not have been much but I’m all I’ve ever had and now, no nothing, nowhere. The skin—my skin— taken, broken bruised, flayed I fade because of her or it, or them I will end; even my wasted time is torn away. I’m tearing now she-it-they want out. I want to shout, scream But my voice is al

Look at the beauty There is shit everywhere, every breath drags it into me. There is beauty all around The ground under my feet is poisoned I look up, and the sky is dying. I see what you cannot We avert our eyes, our sighs we bottle up inside. So much potential, so much A shell of protection, we’re so close to breaking apart. You ignore your treasure, this precious world, a shining reflection of infinite possibilities— you don’t deserve it and you won’t miss what you never noticed Day in, die out it’s all the same. No one knows my name, I’ve grown OK with that. Life should make sense by now instead, it

Maya went limp as her adrenaline drained away. Paul looked up at the sky.  "I know how to stop it," he said, "but I'll need your help." But Lysanna's already won, Maya thought. This world is going to end. Maya felt a sudden tightness, hard and cold as steel, around the base of her spine.  She was jerked into the air next to Paul; she knew she was under his power. "If you didn't want to stop it, then why the hell did you bring me back?!" Because…because… "Because you don't want Lysanna to win?" Paul said, finishing Maya's thought. Stunned, Maya nodded.  Saving this world was just a secondary goal, a cherry on top.  It would be nice if i

Paul felt himself ripped away from his own body.  He was a scab torn off before the wound beneath had healed. He had never felt more alive, now that he was no more. Every sense was sharper than he'd ever known.  He could touch Maya's anger, smell Tal'shen (my lady, my lovely lady) as it took its first breaths with his body. He could taste oblivion singing, its color colder than the kiss of a tear. Paul's laughter mixed with Maya's howl as she rushed at Tal'shen. My lady, Paul thought. She means to harm my beautiful one. Paul could feel his non-body shaking with rage.  Maya was attacking his Queen, but without a body there was nothing

Paul felt like the wind had been knocked out of him.  He wanted to cough, and found he couldn't breathe. Panicking, his reflexes kicked in and he grabbed at his throat, only to find he had no hands, no throat. No body. Tal'shen was moving above and below and all around Paul.  He didn't recognize what had become of his body: a kaleidoscope of scales and tentacles and no shred of humanity in the coldness of its eyes. We are, it sang in a voice that sounded like breaking glass.  Its tentacles caressed where Paul thought he was.  As they stroked him, his vantage point changed, as if he had floated up like a balloon.  Paul could now see Tal'sh

Paul's tentacles wrapped themselves around him, trying to protect him from Maya's downward slash. The knife, razor-sharp, sliced through their rubbery texture.  Paul raised his arms.  The blade was stopped only when it hit the bone of his ulna. Maya pulled the blade back, slashing at the other tentacles waving around Paul's body.  Paul clasped a hand to his wound, trying not to look at the exposed bone.  He kicked out at Maya, hitting only air. A couple of tentacles wrapped around Maya's wrists; her blade was inches away from Paul's chest.  The tentacles tightened, and Maya's blade fell. "Let me go, Paul!" Maya cried out.  "Before it's to

Paul's vision floated in and out of focus, but the sharp smell of blood couldn't lie to him. Maya had plunged her curved blade deep into her own abdomen.  Like a disgraced samurai she pulled the blade sideways; a ruby waterfall spilled toward her thighs. Paul's tentacles dove straight for Maya's wound.  They penetrated her, and Maya shuddered. Paul shuddered harder. Maya began to pant as she moved closer to Paul.  Paul's tentacles inched deeper into her. "I didn't want it to come to this," Maya said as she straddled Paul.  His tentacles were now fully inside her. Paul looked at Maya, expecting to see her body distended and ripping from

Maya gasped in disgust and pulled out her knife. Paul, still huddled before the toilet, felt his tentacles wrap themselves around his waist as if to protect him. "Maya?" Paul asked.  Maya didn't lower her knife. "Jesus, Paul, what--" "--I was hoping you'd know," Paul said.  "I just woke up and...they were there." Without taking her eyes off Paul, Maya moved over toward his bed and pulled off the thin blanket.  She tossed it to him, and he covered himself with it. "I don't know what this is," Maya said.  "I've never seen anything like this before." Paul stared into her eyes.  Maya averted her gaze and lowered her knife slightly. His dr