trick the enemytip it, splurge all overtrick the enemy by ~aguarose
saliva secreting the metal wombs
and tiny cries prickle the calm
natural, everything resembles
a mere clasp on surreal temptations.
twist, they're gone!no more snakes.
lust trickles along his tongue,
and he whispers, "I am a woman"
but his lieoh his cruelty!buries in the folds.
shunned, hatedrelinquished of their swords
but the enemy has many weapons, pointing to your calves.
fall, all most collapse and bow to the roots;
tradition seeks its pedestala mutinous chorus raises defence
smile, slither the coral curve
"quite delicious, your spectacle is",
and her grin colours in manifesting delight
because it's not a battleit's war!
rage is a benevolent friend
hope is a poisonous trick and he cackles,
but we fight; every soldier must kneel
victory clasps trembling pointers,
no sightno end,
but triumphed thoughts pool resistance.
growth is our ally; spurn your teeth!
Batman - Bane Ch. 04Chapter Four: Good-byeBatman - Bane Ch. 04 by ~aguarose
Losing someone is a separation often greeted with resistance. It's understanding that everything that remains will simply be memory and the future is now blurred, rejecting former expectations and distilling the familiar. The negative connotations attached to that person leisurely slip away from concern, a morphed being replaced in its stead. Perfections sprout along these damaged memories, instigating a worse pain as we attempt to move on.
So foolish; how difficult it is to abandon the past and venture forth.
Meg had no words available for Barsad, though she indeed felt grateful for his kindness. They'd waited outside the building for only five minutes before she suggested he call the cab company. Having had the number memorized, it wasn't any trouble for him to do so, though he'd walked off a few steps—making sure to have her in his sights—to do so. When he returned only a moment later, a frown had formed on her face again.
"Why did you walk off?"
bul-e-miIt's a purge, just a kiss;bul-e-mi by ~aguarose
there's a moment of hesitation
but, oh god, how it never matters.
Because when you lean over
and the world buries at your feet
and the emptiness consumes you,
that cage tips.
You can grip the handles in an attempt to hang on
and dangle over the edge;
but that fear, it won't last forever
and soon there'll be a fall.
It's a purge, but try to resist;
there's no going back once you dip
and everything eventually slides.
Rattle, rattle, rattle.
Every cage has a lock,
but sometimes, you're the one with the key.
Go ahead and toss it through the bars,
because that latch can fall open
and there's always room to spill.
It's metallic, the taste of vanity,
but the drive spurns doubt.
They say hope breeds eternal misery;
you can say goodbye, hello to the new.