elfborne

[elfborne]

My skin prickled in the heat

[elfborne]

It was April. The air was molten, and there was no respite from the sun. The days cracked open like seeds in hot oil, one after the other in quick succession.

[elfborne]

I pressed my palms to the earth, jolts of energy flowing into the tree. I could feel its neurons fire, the circuits building anew. The tree began to glow, and the ground grew hot.

Take it all, prince. Teeth, fur blood guts and what's left. I will rest here.

[elfborne]

The air sharp, grating against my face raw. Stars floating around me, popping into oblivion when I look too long at them. The sun bore down on me and me alone, the heat unbearable, almost tangible. The sounds thick and muffled, as if I'm submerged in jelly. And the streets coming to a head, threatening to burst. The fever was leaving my system

[elfborne]

Scales rising from the water, glittering

[elfborne]

The Devil himself seeded your mother

Spawn of Satan

Infernum's very own prince

Child of Filth, the Most Foulest

The celestial and infernal courts decide the genealogy of the half angel

[elfborne]

He was soft, almost unsure. As if I might tell him to stop, as if someone would pinch him. The room was stuffy, its powder blue walls pushing the both of us closer. The door slipped farther away, and Bennichan drew the curtains closed. When he was done, I got up off the bed and slipped back into my clothes. I could feel the vomit rise, my insides still wet. I walked back home and the disgust got a little smaller with each step.

[elfborne]

Fluid something something

The water eutrophied, the green on it shimmering like silk in the morning sun.

The garden swelling with life

[elfborne]

The remains of a ghost, sunk in the land.

[elfborne]

Stared down the bottom of the window, the colors stretching, like cloth from a loom, a broken television screen

[elfborne]

the fish like little grains

worming their way through the water.

the flowers growing out of the waste, cold and grey.

[elfborne]

The faint brush of a memory not fully formed

[elfborne]

them and their gods

iblees and his swollen belly

[elfborne]

The freeze, the shock, the soft explosion

[elfborne]

Ants filing down the tiles, a march of mustard seeds

Of a house torn down in town, ravaged by beetles

Shredding the red spinach to bits with her knife, swirls of pink confetti on the floor around her.

[elfborne]

Coconut trees rotting from the top

An orange welt on the papaya

[elfborne]

Morning came with its copper colors and bird noises

Dragonfly hummings

Soft drone of hornets

Seeds of grass flecking his feet

The first few lives were short, inconsequential; flies buzzing over my grave, squashed to death in seconds. A blade of grass that grew up from the soil only to be ripped out by a screaming child. New roots and dragonflies and a worm, these were my fates, death hanging in the distance. Life inched on, creeping from the last of my remains, surging through the ground and into the river and over the fields, each incarnation small, light, futile. Trapped in samsara, while the world wheeled on. The little frog was right.