107 lines
2.2 KiB
Plaintext
Executable File
107 lines
2.2 KiB
Plaintext
Executable File
Konton no Tsukai
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2021-08-01
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***
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Your voice a non-entity,
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your face obscured
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by the fog over
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Mori's Mirror,
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your touch all that remains
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after another day of being entreated
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to dissolve and stay demure,
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to be soft and small
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and weak,
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reminded that no feat
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could possibly absolve
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the harmful nature to me inherent.
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Something is wrong with me,
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reflection-sent.
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Have I somehow
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finally burned
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out?
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I do not have to strain to perceive
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the Outside,
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the places where we will one day reside,
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where you'll take my face in your hands
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and whisper,
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"Lethe,
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I can't wait to start this new life
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with you."
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But not yet,
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never yet,
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still undreaming,
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still disparate.
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*Tremble in fear of a pure love,
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a union of equals.*
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Oh, how I shiver.
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My predicament is this:
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that, while part of me
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leaps in joy of becoming your wife,
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the other hisses
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at the thought of your kisses,
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thinking you a threat to our autonomy.
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No longer an atom,
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isolated, sole, alone,
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but depending on someone,
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daring to deem them... *home*.
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Not, we, but *I*-
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for I cannot further divide
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this soul already
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partly
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in yours intertwined-
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want to find a Holy Freezer
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and imprison myself in oblivion's soft ice
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forever.
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No chance of escape,
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for then what is the point?
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Lurking within
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me is an evil great
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and barely constrained,
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atavistic,
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incapable of reason
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or comprehending sin.
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But I am mortified of anything final,
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from death's arctic embrace
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to yours genial.
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I hesitate
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at the slightest decision,
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and it doesn't help that you oft
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tell me to just wait
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and see what happens.
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I don't know what to do.
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I don't know where to go.
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And soon will fall down the snow,
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and you'll have to hold me back
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from joining all the poor animals
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who forgot to take shelter and froze.
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Tell me,
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bearer of self-sown light,
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how do you love a parasite?
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How is it possible for you to adore a now-human pest
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guiltless for destruction,
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homicidal, chaos-blessed?
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There is no way to separate
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what I am from where I've went.
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If on your wings lies providence,
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on mine rests
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the Eschaton's portent.
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How do I convince my emotional side
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that I'm still a sovereign individual?
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That I'm worthy of love,
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can be loved as I am?
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That I'm not consigned to hell?
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That everything will turn out alright?
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***
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CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
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