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my-insanity-is-an-artform · 5 days

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Woe, Crack Baby Shitten au be upon thee.

(@bamsara 's little doodle of Nari being dubbed Cult Babysitter and holding a little lamb irrevocably changed my brain chemistry. So of course, I'm now making it everyone else's problem with the headcanon that Narinder is good with children of all ages.)

A couple of months before Lamb gets captured, they meet another lamb or a very small flock that have to split up very quickly after meeting since there's more chance of the lamb species surviving if they aren't all together. In the meeting, Lamb agrees to try continue the lamb species and gets pregnant via *magic* or afab.

Of course, all of the lambs are captured and killed with Lamb being the last, still a few months away from giving birth.

But then they are chosen and resurrected by The One Who Waits.

Fun fact: a fetus can survive for a few minutes after the death of the carrier. (Also this is a world with magic and gods in it. Logic means nothing to me.)

Lamb starts their cult, crusades across the lands and meets all sorts of allies and enemies. All while quietly mourning their entire species and the child that never would be.

Right up until they go into labour.

The baby is lamb through and through with soft wool, wide eyes, tiny cloven hooves and floppy ears.

But the influence of the crown is blazingly obvious since the baby's wool is jet black and they have three red eyes.

I can't tell which would be funnier. Lamb giving birth in The Lonely Shack or while they are physically in The Gateway just post-beating Leshy. Like they were in active labour right throughout fighting Leshy and had no idea. Either way, it's Shocked Pikachu .jpeg all around. (My fucking KINGDOM for a doodle of this.)

Various dot point shenanigans under the cut

There are two ways to go about this. But either way, Baby is not staying in the Cult. Too dangerous, especially if word gets to the Bishops about there being another lamb. So Lamb can and will speed-run this shit. So it takes them about 4-6 years to fully defeat the Bishops.

Baby stays with Ratau:

Lamb goes and yells at TOWW. They are panicking because they have no idea how to raise a probably-half-god baby.

Narinder has no idea what happened right up until Lamb comes in screaming about him being a Baby Daddy and child support.

Ratau is Grandpa now. This is his fate. He embraces the Grandpa life.

Baby learns how to play knucklebones before they can speak.

Shrumy tries to wager with Lamb/Ratau for the whole Baby. Once and only Once.

Baby's first word is dice. Or die.

Baby worships TOWW, but they are a Baby and don't really comprehend worship so the small shrine gets a lot of flowers, neat rocks and some drawings. Narinder always gives a lot of gold for them. And No, it's not favouritism. Shut up.

Baby knows curses. This is concerning for everyone except Baby.

Baby gets a little TOWW doll. It's their favourite, it goes everywhere with them and washing it is a nightmare for everyone involved.

Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower because of the doll.

↑ this action will have consequences.

When Baby is not so baby, they make stuff out of their wool for TOWW and for his disciples. Or asks their parent to help them make stuff.

Cue Lamb awkwardly giving the three some very wonky scarves or hats.

Baal loves it.

Aym refuses to take his off. Ever.

Narinder is actually upset cause his doesn't fit. He's too big. He had to wear it like a little ring.

Or Baby stays/is brought to the Gateway ala Aym and Baal situation:

If Lamb gives birth in the Gateway, everyone is getting a free midwifery education and free trauma. The cats want a refund.

Ya know when a baby instinctively clasps their little hand around a finger and it's like a crime to pull away? That but with Narinder's big ass claw that Baby can only barely cling to.

Aym cries the first time he holds Baby.

Baal straight-up refuses to give Baby back for a good hour.

Lamb visits at least once a day.

Lamb also brings baby things since a baby will do what a baby will do.

Depending on how old Aym and Baal were when they were gifted, Narinder is either learning all of this for the first time or is reminded of how challenging baby care can be.

Narinder purrs = a zonked Baby.

Baby's first word is Vessel.

Baby is taught to fight. Lamb doesn't like it but accepts it.

Baby has a little lamb doll. It is only due to the fact the afterlife doesn't have dirt that they avoid the nightmare of trying to wash it.

Baby is jokingly referred to as TOWW's most Devoted Follower since they refuse to be parted with him for long.

↑ this action will have consequences.

Lamb teaches Baby about being a lamb and if Aym and Baal join in, well who are they to deny their child's only friends/guardians this?

Narinder and Lamb figure out how to get Baby to teleport to the Living World and Baby gets to visit Grandpa Ratau.

Post-game shenanigans.

Narinder: Give me back my crown. Lamb: Ok. Sure. Narinder: I will now sacrifice my most devoted follower (the Lamb) for my freedom. Lamb: *Kill Bill sirens*

Lamb somehow doesn't kill Aym and Baal and instead kidnaps them via Indoctrination Circle out of spite/ reluctance to hurt them.

Narinder feels betrayed that the Lamb would refuse like this and kidnap his acolytes. He was going to resurrect them! He can't fully commit to raising a child while being the God of Death.

Lamb feels betrayed that Narinder would want to kill their child. After all they've been through together! After the way they saw him treat Baby with such gentleness and now he wants to kill them?!

This comes out in the very final moments right before Lamb goes to give the final blow.

Narinder: You are a vengeful false idol and a traitor! Lamb: At least I'm not a monster who wanted to kill my own child! Narinder: Wait. What.

This devolves into a massive argument with divorced-couple vibes.

Narinder is insulted and a bit hurt they thought he would kill his own child.

Lamb is hurt that Narinder would just demand their sacrifice without even talking to them about the whole situation.

Either way the lesson learned is Narinder needs to be more blunt and Lamb needs to not jump to conclusions.

So they are left with a newly usurped Narinder and a newly crowned Lamb. Oops.

Baby is with Ratau when all of this is going down.

Baby is happy their family is all together properly. Baby is Not Happy about this whole cult thing demanding attention from Their Baba.

The Cult is baffled by the sight of their leader with both a baby and a Spouse? Bitterly Divorced Ex? Estranged Co-parent?! What ever it is, most of them have elected not to touch the whole situation with a 10ft barge pole.

Baby learns what the word Father is and how that word refers to Narinder.

Baby calls Narinder Father/Papa/Daddy. Instant KO.

Narinder somehow gains a small hoard of children that like to follow him. Baby Does Not Approve.

Baby also Does Not Approve of this newly formed rift between their parents.

Cue Parent Trap level of Shenanigans.

Aym and Baal are recruited.

The Hoard of Children are recruited. Baby now Slightly Approves.

Narinder and Lamb have an Actual Conversation after the 18th time they get locked in the confessional together.

This of course evolves into Narilamb.

Bishops are saved from purgatory.

Despite all attempts otherwise, Baby is introduced to them.

Shocked Pikachu .jpeg x4

Maybe after a few more years, not-so-baby Baby wants a sibling.

This got so much longer than I thought but yes. Shitten Shenanigans: Accidental Child Acquisition flavoured.

#cult of the lamb #cotl #Shitten Shenanigans Au #cotl lamb #cotl narinder #narilamb #true devotion #Cotl Aym #Cotl Baal #Cotl Ratau #accidental child acquisition #at least on Narinder's part #long post #I once again do not go here #this got longer than I thought it would #Bam's brain is SO wrinkled and I want to lick it

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sparkesink · 4 years

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Chapter 14:

Such Is, The American Dream

How Does One Write…

(When One Has Nothing To Write Upon?)

No Desperate Tragedy…

No Thrilling Woe.

My Rains,

(My Snout…)

Never Forced,

(Still Out.)

The Most Difficult Task,

(Writing Upon A Wim…)

Not Which Becomes A Light Source,

(Discarded Amongst The Gray…)

But That Of The Smiles Which Roll Astray.

The Memories That Stay,

Through A Drought-Full Snow…

Never…

(Really,)

Mattered…

We Always Destined…

(Take Such Blow.)

I Had Never Imagined,

(The Difficulty…)

“Catch What You Sow…”

I Really Just Hope,

I Did Not Catch The Bow…

Allow Intellect,

(Power To Tow.)

Slow,

Sweet Ebb And Flow.

Only One Little Thing:

(Keep My Mind Low.)

This Internet Shit Is Much Harder Than It Seems…

Seamless Integration,

Flawless Digital Frustration…

Hours Upon Hours Of Choices To Feed…

How Many Algorithm Marketing Targets Do I Need?

Constant Change,

(A Living Thing…)

Creating A Robot,

(Behind Your News Feed.)

Good Money Spent:

(Just One Moment Of Your Time…)

Try Being More:

Sensible,

(Simply,)

Speaking In Rhyme…

There Is No Easy Feet,

While Introducing Something New.

There Is No Target Audience,

(Per-say,)

In Lieu.

There Is No,

(One,)

Industry We Fall Within.

Shall We Write Code?

(Leaving Artistic Voice Shackled And Thin?)

Maybe The Camera Feel Cold?

While Contracts Come Tackled,

(Spattered Upon Tin.)

How Can So Many Things,

All Come Shining Their Rings…

And I’m Expected To Succeed…

(You Don’t Know:)

Not A Single Itch Of This Presentation…

Is Procured By Any Other…

(Than Me.)

One Little Girl,

Four Personalities…

All Separate In Their Beautiful Talents.

How Could Anyone Know…

(She Performs The Full Trapeze.)

Not A Building,

No Projects…

(Between Groups…)

Just Me;

(Here,)

Trying Not To Cry.

Pushing A Project:

(I Never Got To Practice.)

I Didn’t Go To College For Computer Science…

A Whole Degree Dedicated:

(The Science Of Marketing…)

I Didn’t Ask For This Work…

As It Laid It’s Beautiful Head Upon My Chest.

I Was Given This Burden,

To Think And Create…

To Reach The Stars:

Give Them All Back…

(Sensibly Late.)

Heaven Forbid,

We Use Our Word,

To Speak…

(To Talk.)

Create Conversation,

(Substituting Reaction To Mock.)

We Are Forced Language Of Societal Choosing,

From The Moment We Enter This World.

Here,

(Upon This Earth…)

Within This Reality,

At This Exact Moment In Time:

We Grow,

We Forget How To Talk…

We Let All Of The Bullshit Hide,

(Who We Really Are Inside.)

That Happy Child,

Giggling With Your Mother…

She Raspberries Your Little Baby Belly.

She Kisses Your Forehead:

Promising Beauty Within Life.

Unconditional Love,

(Regardless Societal Strife.)

Though,

(At Some Moment…)

For Some:

Brief…

A Loss At Happenstance…

(A Loss Of Seconds To Breathe.)

For Others:

An Extensive Span Of Trauma And Fear,

Acceptance Washed,

(Blatantly Clear.)

Do You Understand Fear?

Months Turned Years,

Consistent Fears:

Fear To Open The Front Door,

Fear Of Anything,

(Aside The Shore.)

I Broke Myself.

I Ignored Myself.

I Allowed Others To Abuse Me,

(Shamed The Woman I Could Be.)

I Feel Sick,

Consistently At War:

I’ve Fought My Whole Life,

(My Truth Resides Within My Lore.)

Do You Think I’m Privileged?

(I’ve Been Given A Hand Up?)

Could You Realize It All Came At A Price?

Do You Understand Manipulative Narcissistic Strife?

It Flows As The Waves Within The Sea,

(Maybe This Is Why It Consistently Captivates Me.)

Though I Have Only Begun To Live This New Life:

One Of Health,

Truth,

Integrity,

(And Dignity…)

All Those Dark Memories:

Transparently Vibrant Through Stained Glass.

I’ve Been On This Emotional Ride Since Birth,

I Am Their Narcissistic Supply,

(Second Class.)

“My Worth”:

Highs And Lows,

“You’re Impressively Bland,”

“You’re Intelligently Stupid,”

“You’re Non Like The Rest,

As Soon As She Breaks,

Make Haste:

Take Her To The Test!”

Round And Round,

I Tumble Through Sea Foam,

An Eternity Caught,

(A Weightless Tomb.)

Little “B”,

So Soft And Sweet Was She.

She Crawled Beneath Her Bunk Bed,

Just A Moment To Breathe.

Forced To Obey,

Shunned If She Don’t Stay.

She Just Did Not Want To Play,

(With That Little Girl,)

A Girl Who’s Cousin Fondled Her,

(Post Six Years From A Six Year Old Twirl.)

She Moved Each Toy,

All Those Soiled Clothes,

She Placed Herself Perfectly…

Between The Mattress And The Floor.

She Only Six At The Time…

She Didn’t Understand,

(Emotional Manipulative War.)

She Didn’t Understand,

She Deserved Her Respect,

Her Heart Under-defined:

(“Sore”.)

She Hid Under That Bed,

Gasping For Breath;

Rocking Back And Forth,

Both Hands Entangled Her Head.

She Sat There Crying,

Though Silent She Must Be…

For If Anyone Found Her,

(Emotional Scrutiny.)

She Learned To Sob Silently:

(No One Let’s The Girl Just Be.)

She Tucked Her Tears Within A Sock,

Bit Her Lip And Listened,

Counting The Clock…

Curious How Long She Could Disappear,

Before They Even Noticed,

“She’s Not Here.”

One Hour,

Two?

(None Hadn’t A Clue…)

Till Finally Her Mother Came Ringing Through…

She Heard Her Panic,

Thirty Minutes Gone By…

Is It Fucked Up,

She Enjoyed It?

(Hearing Mom Cry.)

They Called The Police,

Worried She Had Been Taken;

She Finally Wiggled,

(Mountains Of Emotion Shaken,)

Out Of Her Room,

(Snot Encasing The Entirety Of Her Face,)

Why Couldn’t You Understand,

(She Isn’t At Home In This Place.)

She Was Escorted To The Side Walk,

Directly Affront Her Claim.

She Sat Silent As The Officer Explain,

“You Cannot Hide From Your Parents,

This Is Bad.”

So What If She Is Sad?

So What If She Has No Name,

So What If She Is Human,

So What She Lives In Shame?

She Is Six,

(Just Her Parents Property.)

Never Hit,

Welted Below The Belt…

(Emotionally Scarred.)

Never Bled,

(Controlled,)

“The Person She Is…

(Must Be Discard.”)

“She Is Not Allowed To Be,

(The One She Is Meant To See,)

She Only Allowed To Be,

(The One I Want To See!)”

Her Desires Shot,

Her Goals,

‘Just Silly Dreams…’

(Even Early Graduation Wasn’t Satisfactory To Thee.)

Her Dean’s List Scholars,

Scholarships At Sixteen…

“She Could Have Done Better,

Had She Only Listened To Me…

Had She Only Let Me Direct Her Life,

(Listened As A Sheep,)

Maybe She Would Be Normal,

Maybe She Wouldn’t Be…

(A Fucking Head Case,)

Maybe She Would Finally Sleep.

She Could Live And Become ‘Normal’,

If She Would Only Just ‘Play The Game’…

Since She Refuse,

We Mock Her In Exasperating Blame.”

Forward To Twenty-one Years,

(Now Enthralled Within Devine Game:)

A Rabbit Called,

His Eye Yellow Amongst A Brunette Mane.

He Scurried Diligently Amongst My Toes,

Furry Innocence Disregard Hidden Foes.

I Offered Him My Guidance,

A Compass Found,

(Hanging Amongst The Fir…)

The Rabbit Shook His Tale In Great Exuberance,

My Third Eye Cringed Within Prominent Clairvoyance.

I Had Been Wandering For Days Amongst These Trees,

(I Hadn’t Expected To Find Creatures Such As These.)

The Rabbit Was First,

He Spoke Aloud,

(Whispered,)

Follow Me,

(I’ll Show You Around.)

All This Time Rummaging From Within The Trees,

Consistently Trudging Muck,

(Seeping Between The Leaves.)

He Turned Timid,

Around And Around,

Figure-eights Between Each Tree:

Before A Days Pass,

He Guided Me,

Beyond The Forest Entrance,

(Amass.)

I Forfeited Precious Time Progressing,

(Before Encountering You!)

“I’m Back Where I Fucking Started!

You Beady Eyed Fool!”

The Rabbit Appeared Different,

(His Eye Gold Sprouting Orange:)

“Don’t You Get It?

I’m Not Here To Help You.

You Should Have Taken Interest,

(Within Prior Warn.)

Enjoy Trudging Back,

Dusk Covers Within Mist Until Morn.”

Then Out Of The Muck,

This Yellow-eyed Rabbit Disappear.

Leaning In Close With One Ear…

“FUCK!”

Kicking The Mud,

My Heart Sweltered Within My Chest,

My Knees Buckled,

(Demanded Rest.)

One Should Never Follow The Rabbit:

(Fuck That Rabbit.)

Forgive My Language,

I Was Never One To Censor…

(I Should Have Procured A Sponsor.)

Here,

Returned Upon The Beginning.

(Happy Anniversary To Me;)

3/14,

Another Beginning To Be.

I Suppose We Shall Try Again:

Follow My Heart,

Close What That Yellow Eyed Rabbit Left Tart,

Sever A Clean Part.

Keep The Soul,

Sponge The Rest.

Remain Hopeful,

(This Is Not A Final Test.)

I Suppose,

(To Me,)

It Seems Unbearable:

To Pull Myself From The Muck,

A Constant Reminder,

Slivers Of Luck,

(Fuck.)

Purchased Clothing To Tuck,

To Be Taken Into Success,

Without A Harvey Weinstein Conclusion…

(Business Fueled By Your Sucking Skills;)

I Digress.

No One Ever Talks About Modification Discrimination:

A Projected Judgmental Temptation,

Toward Self Expression.

Sighted Within The Way The Eyes Glaze,

Creases,

(Between The Sinus,)

Laze.

Projecting Yourself As A Business Cog:

“Don’t Quit Your Job.”

Bouncing Baby Blue,

Upon One Hip Or Two?

Can You Meet Next Wednesday?

Let Us Print Money For Few,

Don’t Mind The Toddler Fingers,

Find Purpose For My Mouth,

(En Lieu.)

Don’t Mind The Baby Babble,

(Mommy Wears Twenty Hats, Too.)

What Shall It Be Today?

Manning Landscape Stats?

Emotional Abuse?

(Milk Toppled By Stray Cats.)

Mommy And Me,

Climbing Counters,

(Refuse To Leave Be.)

Business Woman Performance:

A Joke,

(Scuffing Down Toke,)

Gaining Courage To Speak…

(To Other Folk.)

When Does This Feel Good?

When Does Satisfaction Creep My Soul?

(As I’m Told It Should.)

Such An Interesting Observation;

(In Which I Stand Alone.)

Expressing My Soul…

To Feel Sensation:

(A Cold And Lonely Tone.)

Choosing Printing Paper,

Juggling A Tired Toddler,

I Hold Her For Hours While Yawns Taper…

Which Ink Can Finally Coddle Her?

Could I Choose To Become A Cloud?

I Would Never Become “To Loud”.

I Would Never Drag Myself Through Sharpened Glass,

No Results Within My Mass.

I Could Be Beautifully Gazed Upon For All To See,

(While Remaining Far-away…)

Intact,

(With My Dignity.)

Removing Myself From Toxicity,

(Festering Within Such Simplicity.)

I Dream Upon Days,

(Lost In Daze,)

With Him…

Fizzled Out Of Adolescent Faze.

Fingers,

(Twirling My Hair Up Within Them.)

Coffee In Bed,

Date Nights In Red,

Laughing,

Exuding Such Needed Encouragement Said.

“Good Morning Beautiful,”

Every Morning.

A Hazel Eye That Never Projects A Bore…

A Look That Never Dies,

Such Relationship,

(Containing Exclusive Polite Lies.)

Weekends In Adventure,

Dreamer Talk Of Tenure,

Clouds Positioned To Lend An Ear…

Speaking Of Peace And Beauty,

Without A Reminder Of The Muck…

Gaining Momentum…

(Circling Near.)

Appreciation Of The Highs,

Consideration Of The Lows,

(An Anchor Lent Each Time It Shows.)

Walks Along The Beach,

Ability To Intellectually Teach…

A Woman,

(Who Is Anything But What She Wants To Be.)

A Smart Ass,

(Behind An Extended Vocabulary.)

Something Equivalent,

(Capable In Loving What Cannot Become Seen.)

Am I Lost?

Naïve?

Exclusive Denial Of What My Soul Is Screaming?

My Tower Leaning,

My Foundation Feening…

(Freely Poured Concrete…)

In Which Will Not Crack Under Pressure.

A Sentiment Of Force Capable To Hold,

(A Collapsing Infrastructure,)

Containing Such Vast Weight,

(Others Incapable Of Supportive Toll.)

A Crumbling “Eighth World Wonder,”

Supporting It’s Self Under Continuous Richter…

Acknowledging Important Features,

Cracking Off Remaining Seizures…

(Demolishing Pertinent Structures…)

Praying To A One-way Conversation…

(Within Myself.)

I Am Sick Of Being Sick.

Left Alone,

(Head Filled With Ideas Of “Home.”)

Just Let This Pressure,

(Excruciating Weight From Within My Chest,)

Dissipate…

Allow “Sensibly Late” To Mark Date…

I’ve Only Ever Desired Peace,

(Within Myself.)

Countless Influential People Project The Same Bore:

“Follow Your Dreams, Determination Hangs Sore…”

When Does A Lifetime Of Unfortunate Events End?

When Will I Be Given Time To Mend?

What Is Time But A Linear Bend?

If There Is No Beginning…

(Subsequently,)

There Is No End.

All Versions,

Within All Realities,

Upon All Timelines:

(Alive And Vibrant,)

Simultaneously Thrive.

Amongst A Paradox,

(Created Within Such A Reality,

Accepted Through Current Consciousness…)

Somewhere,

Along Some Timeline,

Within Such Reality,

Procured Through Such A Paradox…

In Which I Have Made This Work Worth Something.

At This Very Moment,

In A Linear Timeline,

Upon A Parallel Paradox;

I Have Succeeded.

The String Of Unfortunate Events Severed…

The Curse Lifted From My Ora.

I’m Left Staring Within This Same Pacific Ocean,

(Washed Away With The Sand.)

What Does This All Mean?

(Why Me?)

Why Have I Been Chosen To Endure This Strife?

Why Must A Devine Test Be Inflicted Upon This Life?

Why Am I Here?

(A Breeze Guided Me Near.)

Why Hasn’t This Happenstance Become Clear?

When Will This Trepidation Recede?

Will I Remain Humble If Encased Within Greed?

Eight Years Of Sorrow And Woe,

(Why Does This Fucking Novel Breed Such Daunting Tow?)

WHY AM I HERE?

WHY CAN I NOT SEE CLEAR?

AM I FACED TO ACEND WITHIN THE MIRROR?

WHY AM I FUCKING HERE?!?

What’s This Ship Got To Do With Anything?

Why These Sands?

Why This Bay?

It Felt So Natural,

(Before We Came To Stay…)

The Cosmos Were Ringing,

Guiding Me Amongst This Shore,

Now Enthralled In Silence,

Saturated Within Thirty Days,

(Blood And Pain,)

Payment For This Lore.

I Peer Amongst These Ruins,

(Sunken Deep Within Our Sands…)

What Does This Old Ship Have To Do With Anything?

What Am I Doing?

I Moved My Family,

Upon Premonition And Happenstance:

Guided Transition With Ease…

I Just Cannot Find My Purpose…

(Amongst These Seas.)

It’s As Though I Should Just Call It;

(Wave My White Flag And Surrender.)

Live Within Death:

Pull My Life Together,

(Ascender.)

I Cannot Seem To Convince,

Which I Am Meant

A Fruit Gathered,

(From Purposeful Quince.)

Am I Writing In The Wrong Direction?

(I Cannot Seem To Find My Way.)

What Could I Become?

In Such Case Of Succession?

This Lore Is All I’ve Ever Known…

My Key To Contentment Unknown.

How Could I Continue This Dream?

(My Work Greatly Unseen.)

I Came Here Upon This Day,

To Wave Goodbye To My Bay.

To Kiss My Waves One Final Day:

I Kiss The Earth Which This Tattered Ship Lay.

I Cannot Continue This Silly Nonsense,

I Must Learn To Become Practical;

Build A Wall Around My Heart,

Coated Kevlar Tactical.

The Coroner Always Gets His Way,

(Impractical To Believe I Could Stay…)

Something Happened:

(I Have Black Chunks Re-written Within My Memory…)

A Night Called An Instance…

A Body Arrested Through Our Back Gate…

I Couldn’t Recall The Melody…

A Tiny Girl,

Standing In Our Backyard So Late.

I Saw The Police Escort Him,

(From Back Through To Front,)

Why Was I There?

Did I Come Out To Confront?

I Was Told Our Chow Chow Bit Him…

(That Couldn’t Become Correct?)

For Had This Been Truth,

My Jazmine Girl Would’ve Become Laid To Rest…

Were We Victim To Common Burglary?

Or Maybe…

I A Victim Of Something Grotesque.

Why Are All Other Moments,

(Surrounding This,)

A Blackened Mess?

Just One Slide,

Seared Within My Psyche…

Just One Man,

Blood Dripping Down One Pant Upon A Lichee.

Two Officers Restraining Each Hand…

Walking Through My Back Gate;

My Mother Weeping Amongst The Blue And Red,

Authoritative Lights:

(Illuminating A Common Cul-de-sac…)

Why Was I In Back?

How Did I Get There?

Where Is The Archive;

(These Memories In Which I Lack?)

This Chapter Is Shit, Any-who.

Written From Within The Desperation:

An Unemployed Failure,

Female,

Tattooed,

(And Equally Discriminated.)

I Don’t Think Many Realize,

I Manage Traffic Analytics…

Do You Know What It Is Like?

Working Diligently Upon A Project;

Simultaneously,

Nineteen Months Only One…

One Single Human Came To Visit.

Do You Know What It Is Like?

Explaining Brilliance:

To Pinheads In Suits Of Murk?

Endless Determination,

Anxiety Loaded,

(Maximum Pulsation.)

What Would The Common Human See?

If Only To Look Past This Cover,

Do My Tattoos Cause Anxiety To Flee?

Could It Be?

For What Purpose Could You Possibly Leave?

Pretending To Understand,

When I Prove Fact:

(You’ve Never Even Ventured One Page Through This Land,)

Though,

You’ve Graciously Provided Patronize,

(Enveloping Strength In Which You Lack.)

Such A Shame,

A Vortex Cannot Become Undeveloped,

(Once Given Life To Breathe…)

This Story Cannot Become Untold,

(Reaction To Mature To Leave.)

Could You Evaporate Within The Fog?

Lending An Ear Amongst This Slimy Log?

Maybe It’s Just Ahead Of It’s Time…

Maybe,

(One Day…)

My Words Will Not Become Overlooked…

Maybe You’ll Investigate;

(A Thorough Understanding Of This Song.)

I Make Others Feel Uncomfortable?

(Speaking My Truth Is Unavoidable…)

How Can You Possibly Judge?

(There Has Been No Company Enthralled Within My Work.)

This Story Lay Stagnant:

Tattered Memories Of A Warrior Lurk.

Then Again,

Who Ever Cared About The Survivor?

Veterans Homeless,

Left Within Insanity Amongst The Street…

A Jungle Few Understand,

Portraying Images Of War,

Within Survival Upon Distant Land.

Have You Been Without Shelter?

Do You Understand The Terror?

Sleeping In A Tent,

Praying For A Lucky Start…

Sleeping In The Back Of A Festiva,

(Two Lovers Between Two Dogs Is An Art.)

Have You Ever Woken Up On a Stranger’s Floor?

Thanking The Sun For Another Day Of Lore…

Have You Experienced A Soul Saturated In Blood Stains?

(Those Chosen For Greatness Are Greatly Maimed.)

Do You Understand What It Could Feel Like?

The Pain Of Hunger Outweighs Pain Of Plasma Donations,

Joining Medical Research Studies,

Finances Supplied Only A Few Brief Moments To Breathe…

And You Look At ME?

“Don’t Quit Your Day Job…”

I Should Petition The Gods In Which I Dedicated My Soul,

But Then…

That Would Become Wrath…

And In Doing So I Endure Disown,

From This Pursuit Of Becoming “Whole”.

I Ponder Amongst My Thoughts:

How Dare You?

Patronizing Something,

(You Never Even Gave A Chance.)

A Research Experiment In Sloth And Judgment:

Could One Become So Busy?

Not Even A Seconds Chance?

Before Discarded?

(Lousy?)

There Will Become A Day,

Where Those Whom Shunned,

Come Flowing In Throughout Our Bay…

They Will Pretend To Believe In Divine Things,

(I Know They Only Bare Steel Woven Strings…)

I Shall Look You Within The Eye,

Plant My Courage As I Say,

“Please, Walk On By.

Your Money Is No Good Here,

For I Had Plans You Could Have Received…

Instead?

You Left Me,

Here To Bleed.

I Cauterized My Wounds,

I Had No Assistance From Greed-written Fools.

There Will Become A Day:

One Glorious,

Relieving Day…

In Which I Will Have Gained This Courage,

Take My Stand,

Show Off This Pearl-Glass Spine,

The One Abandoned Upon Needful Time.

I Will Build This Myself,

I Will Become Relentless…

I Will Show The Judged:

I Cannot Be Rendered Senseless.

You Cannot Break Me:

I Am The Mother Reaper.

“What Exactly Are You Doing?”

There She Was:

Vivian,

(In The Flesh,)

Sitting Amongst That Moss Covered Log,

(Before Me.)

“Didn’t I Explain?

Blatantly Clear?

Your Swimming Within Muck…

It Will Devour You,

You Foolish Buck.

No One Wants To Drown Within Your Quicksand,

Where Is Your Land?

You Sit Around Here,

Swimming In Mud And Blood…

He’s Fucking Waiting For You!

Get Your Ass Up!”

She Held No Consequence,

(A Royal Demeanor:)

I Stop To Acknowledge My Current Surroundings,

Listen To Logic…

Internalize Her…

“How Are You Here?

I Mean, How Are You Within This Chapter?

I Am Alone Here,

Left To Retrospect…

A Blackened Cell Within A Writing Table…

Expected To Secure A Sable Label.”

“You’re Past That, My Love…

You’re Swimming In Muck.”

My Eyes Jaunt Aside,

Then To Beneath…

My Skin Consumed In The Sticky Black Tar…

The Skulled Outlines,

Consuming Me Full…

They Paralyze Your Senses…

Construct False Locations…

“Don’t You Get It?

You’ve Never Left This Lost Forest.”

“For Which Do You Mean I Never Left?”

I Already Pulled Myself Up Out Of The Muck,

Stuck,

Undeniable Quicksand…”

“The Faster You Pull The Quicker They Tuck…

You Must Be Cunning,

Haven’t You Learned Anything?

You Have No Receipt For Luck.

You Must Will It Off,

It Shall Cling To Your Soul If Not.”

Returning Her Casual Ignorance With Scowling Stare:

“That’s All Your Advice?

‘Will It Off’ While You Just Fucking Sit There?”

“Yeah, You’re Being Weak.

Should I Spell It Out For You?”

She, Sitting Upon Her Log:

Joint Cherried Upon One Hand.

She, Lounged:

Weight Shifted Left To Mock,

Legs Crossed Amongst The Dew.

Stiff Fingers Find Smoke Inhalation:

Kissing Fingerprints Along Each Solemn Drag…

“You Saw The Rabbit?”

She Leans In Close,

(Three Inches From My Thigh…)

Whispers:

“It Hurts To Climb High?”

“No,

How Are You Here?

This Breaks All The Rules…

I’m Not Near…

It’s A Black Coated Fear,

This Chapter Is Within Me,

I Cannot Be Within This Lost Forest…

This Is Not Real…”

Within Blinking Seconds:

The Scenery Flicker…

A Dark Interrogation Room,

One Light With That Writing Table Central:

Drowning In Blacked,

Living Tar…

The Mud-blood Creatures Sleeking Upon My Mind…

Gasping For Breath;

One Eye Opened From Between This Slim Kind,

Vivian Kissing Her Joint…

Watching Me Suffer…

The Slime Covers My Mind,

Desperate,

Desperation,

Within That One Table Cell…

She Whispers:

“It’s Coming…

That Dream…

It’s Your’s To Capture,

Doll-face…

You Want Your Salvation?

Your Dreams Turn Reality?

Disregard Temptation?

Just Get Up,

Find Your Way Through This Lost Forest…

The Galaxies Owe You Reciprocated Payment,

You Already Succeeded…

Just Wake Up!”

Devoured Within Blackened Tar,

Jade Sit Within The Corner Of My Cell,

(Right Far.)

Sobbing Amongst Herself…

“I Have A Forest To Navigate,

I Cannot Save Her Here…”

An Unseen Sensation,

A Delicate Hand,

Index And Thumb Clenching My Conch…

Ripping My Ear,

Out From Within The Clear.

“Find Your Will To Walk,

My Subtle Naive Friend…

You Better Prepare:

The Land Beyond This Is A Living Jungle,

The Circus Will Lead Your Final Test…

It’s Coming For You,

All Those Passionate Desires:

Pleads For The Best…

Living Light,

Past The Circus…

Glorious Wonders You Could Never Imagine,

Endless Salvation…

Gifted To Those Suffering Temptation:

You Must Finish,

You’re Meant For This.”

“I Don’t Know If I Am:

My Shoulders Can’t Take Anymore Weight…”

“You Silly Fool,”

Vivian Snarking From Between Strings Of Muck,

(Spiderwebbing My Appearance:)

“Remove The Toxic Parasite Upon Your Luck!”

Sure Enough,

I Straighten My Spine,

Stand Within The Blood,

(Two Vertebrae A Time…)

His Smile Grin Beyond This Blackened Muck…

The Corner,

Disguised In Luck…

His Sweet Face Shift,

Those Green Bifocals Lift…

“You Have No Power Over Me!

Return To Where You Came, Be!”

Within Astonishing Grace,

I Remove His Toxic Control,

Willing Him The Size Of A Rabbit Face.

I Gently Place Him Back Within The Muck…

“You Cannot Control Me,”

I Kiss His Forehead In Empathetic Laze,

“I Cannot Continue As Your Puppet,

Tethered To Abusive Greedy Strings, Ablaze.”

This Little Toy Man,

In This Little Toy Boat…

Evaporated,

Taken Amongst The Creatures,

(Within The Quicksand: Despair.)

Dripping In Toxic Goo,

I Straighten My Spine,

Now Three Vertebrae A Time…

“Ahh, Now You Understand…

The Brave Of Heart,

The Relentless Conquer This Land…

Here,

Wipe Yourself Off,

Inhale This Toke,

Find Relaxing Enjoyment Within Your Cough.”

Vivian Lent Me A Silk Handkerchief,

(From Within Her Brassiere.)

“Now Listen Here,

I’ve Willed Paths Within This Forest:

Three Guarded By Rabbit,

One Left Free And Clear.

Just Follow Your Heart,

You’re Intelligent Around Here:

Wait For Your Moment…

It’s Coming Near.”

She Evaporated Within This Forest Mist,

A Fine,

Black,

Shear,

Delicate,

Smoke Dissipated Before My Iris.

The Handkerchief Now Sizable,

(Equal To That Of A Blanket Towel.)

I Remove The Blood From Amongst My Skin,

Watching The Remanence Dance Amongst The Fabric:

Alive In Devaluation,

Desperation,

(Despair.)

I Look Back Amongst The Muck,

One Final Time:

The Corner’s Greed-Colored Bifocals Sink,

Accompanied With A Porcelain Grin…

I Sat In Grief,

(Watching Them Slip Beyond The Blood, Water Thin…)

“I’m Sorry,

I Am The Mother Reaper…

You Cannot Break Me:

I Must Live Beyond This Mud,

Tasting Of Tin.”

Grief Stricken Relief.

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