Fine slice of life conjures theses pieces around me. Much more, much less a breath & they fill me again.
Shade & cuts & firelight glimpses of shadows twisting beneath the beneath, eating within me. Claws through pale ivory show so well in this threnody white daze. Day & age are set aside.
Always, I'd wage. Always one more vision for my eyes to absorb. Unseen hunger is so sated. Mirrored beings so related. Just a beckoned call. One dissolved prelude. One less friend to drive home. Just salt in the wound.
Like I'm salting the sea, so let me be draining its depths. Let me be taking from its chill & will for killing. I'm sorting out the shells as I dispel this deed done right quickly. Blanketing those victims set to the side & abiding to reside where the wellspring subsides. There's no malice here.
Just salt. Just salt.
A weighted seabed far beyond burdened. Grains grinding themselves into so many elegant beads. Too many to dissolve. Too many to drive back.
There's nothing here to resolve. Just salt in the wound.