poisonedbuck

i. you are six shades of sadness on a too cold, too big seat, a shrunken apostrophe and paroxysmal, the balls of your feet strumming the hours gone ("i want to go home, please, please, i just want to go home"). ii. it is your relief and your regret that she knows you so well. It is she who brings forth a doctor then, when you are past talking-down, done, wrung out and horse-footed in your need ("let me go home, please, please, i just need to go home") iii. softly accented words spoken off to the side: "Yes. Let's keep her voluntary now, it will be quicker: but if her wings sprout and itchy feet sample corridors, we'll make it an order."

1. To Gaia: Fatherhood is more than a spilt seed; it is not defined by organs clenched in ecstacy, the grind of one against another, or the budding germination. Fatherhood is a love that doesn't fade, school concerts endured instead of a football match-- fatherhood is the moments he chooses the child over himself. 2. Medusa: Loose your talons, snake-witch, his heart is here and I won't let your poison stain him; you will wish for manticores with stings smaller than mine should you shatter the peace we have built. 3. To the Valley-walker: Like Alke, spirit of courage, you dip formless into the styx, and arise. Your burdens shame Atlas bu