cmariequeerly

[cmariequeerly]

smell flowers amongst the concrete

sirens through a megaphone

cops on the sidewalks

buy something from walmart 2.0

happy pride

[cmariequeerly]

There once was a human shaped all out of teeth and people thought them kind because they had learned to show the flats.

[cmariequeerly]

A thing skitters

Understand

Caution, cautioned

All at once

A thing skitters

Yearn and burn for it

Satiety?

Tantalus weeps

A thing skitters

Privileged

Careless care

How cold is its warmth

A thing skitters,

Privileged, understand, yearn and burn for it.

Careless care, caution, satiety?

How cold its warmth, all at once.

[cmariequeerly]

So let’s revisit this world since I’m thinking about actually writing a story set here. We need some conflict so let’s set up an opposition.

There’s a church set up around the veneration of saints/angels. The church suffered a schism over whether the saints were incarnated celestial beings or if the angels were ascended human spirits. Both sects sponsor demon hunters. The demon hunters are guided by saint angels to places where the demons have been whispering to people to get summoned.

Low fantasy? Tech level… variable? Vignettes? This might work better as a collection of stories than as a single narrative. I could see it working well spread across time.

World building

The hierarchy of demons, such as it is, is derived from the quantity of souls held and the relative strength of their vices.

Souls can only be captured by being summoned by a mortal who then accepts a bargain. The bargain in fact traps the mortal in a pocket dimension inside one of the demon’s eyes. For this reason it’s unusual to see a demon with fewer than five eyes.

Inside the pocket dimension the soul is allowed to indulge its predominant vice until it is exhausted at which point the soul is consumed and the eye disappears.

Each pocket dimension is hosted by an imprint of the demon. They share consciousness but are unconstrained in their focus, referring to each other as sibling-self, with gender labels varying as applicable.

Demons can only be summoned by use of their true name, which can never be written down correctly. They can whisper in dreams although this is less than reliable. It’s not unheard of for someone stringing together random sounds to summon a demon but it usually goes poorly.

[cmariequeerly]

I completed nanowrimo this year. If you want to read it, the story is here.

[cmariequeerly]

A poem for my by'ilil-nia. @potorch

when the sunsets are faded

to make me believe i am good

i've been smoking hard but

i've got more in my pocket

.

i want to whisper at your mouth

how we've been getting off and now

we're poetry through every vow

just until you break the blood

.

i want to lick your face, love

this is a confusing world

it's blood; ripple off and shatter

and i'll scare you right where you are

.

i want to fuck under dirty stars

i'll meet you at the top of your car

a lot less disguised than smoky bars

we're going too far, too far

.

i want to meet you at the inside

you're a rainbow on the slide

and i'm singing storms in the night

as long as it's glorified

.

i want to leave the world behind

but, if that's it, then you'll be mine

we can start living for the good times

i've been getting off the bottom line

[cmariequeerly]

Poetry game

The seed line is “blood”

Blood

Everywhere it flows

In veins and halls and highways

Paths and culdesacs

Capillary tangles

Blood

A world saturated

Spilled for love, for hate, for apathy

Heart and limbs bled clean

Soaked and drowning

Blood

Life, it travels

So far and not at all together

Fear and love without distinction

Lost in flow

[cmariequeerly]

Poetry game. The seed line is “blood, falling like raindrops”

Blood, falling like raindrops

You, shining like the sky

Love and death and love and death

Needlessly, imagine I am kind

Blood, falling like raindrops

Wounds, kisses, you and I

Love and death and love and death

How fortunate, we find

[cmariequeerly]

Poetry game. The seed line is “love is blood rushing to”

Love is blood rushing to

A heart, a lung, a hand

Crushing, speaking, touching

Love is blood rushing from

A heart, a lung, a hand

Burdened with the burning ache of knowing

Knowing known

[cmariequeerly]

A scene

Person A: I’ve been having trouble with my brain again. The useless thoughts are back.

Person B: oh, what useless thoughts?

A: you know, like I am the destroyer and the end of all things.

B: oh shit, are you a demon?

A: maybe, what’s a demon?

B: you know what a demon is, everyone does!

A: demon, from the Greek daimon, meaning a god or protective spirit, contemporarily contrasted with angel, from the Greek angelos, meaning messenger. Socrates is believed to have had an instructive eudaimon that granted him wisdom.

B: so, then, are you a eudaimon?

A: oh, you know, I try to give good advice. 😉

[cmariequeerly]

World building

The hierarchy of demons, such as it is, is derived from the quantity of souls held and the relative strength of their vices.

Souls can only be captured by being summoned by a mortal who then accepts a bargain. The bargain in fact traps the mortal in a pocket dimension inside one of the demon’s eyes. For this reason it’s unusual to see a demon with fewer than five eyes.

Inside the pocket dimension the soul is allowed to indulge its predominant vice until it is exhausted at which point the soul is consumed and the eye disappears.

Each pocket dimension is hosted by an imprint of the demon. They share consciousness but are unconstrained in their focus, referring to each other as sibling-self, with gender labels varying as applicable.

Demons can only be summoned by use of their true name, which can never be written down correctly. They can whisper in dreams although this is less than reliable. It’s not unheard of for someone stringing together random sounds to summon a demon but it usually goes poorly.

[cmariequeerly]

A snippet

As she broke the kiss her summoner noticed tears of black pitch leaking from her hollow obsidian eyes.

“Gods below, how I’ve wanted you,” she said, starting to smile. “And now you’re mine!” She laughed, fangs flashing.

[cmariequeerly]

What is pain?

What is loss?

What is letting go before its time?

What is a question if not a shield?

The distance of inquiry making of an ocean a cup

To try to drown in

[cmariequeerly]

What, then, fate?

Is it joining and drawing apart,

For if not the latter

Then how the former?

We walk our paths.

What, then, fate?

Not all doors lie open

But why?

Trace the lines.

Make your choice.

What, then, fate?

Can you see the never-meant?

Love is ours

Creation, possession, derivation

What truer claim than this?

What, then, fate?

[cmariequeerly]

We learn to lie with our souls

So they will think we are like them

We pare and prune the parts we love the most

To appear something they will trust

And then we learn

That betrayal is believing the mask.

[cmariequeerly]

A poem in two parts

I love you, I said

But I’m not well

Or should I say either?

Because I do

And you are the last light in my sky.

[cmariequeerly]

Pain

Pain

Pain

Like the pinging of the bridge cables

Echoing back mocking compassion.

Pain

Like strong wine

Bitter and delicious

Pain

Sweet as the candy that coats

The tongue.

When did you stop tasting it?