theslothycat

[theslothycat]

The crown’s laments

He glances tiredly at the creature that stood a few steps away. Caged in the same room.

It felt like a companion.

Yet he knew better.

From the silence that haunted them to the way the hush of their exchanges drowns him in his own ocean of drainage. A quietude that whispered more than the storms of curses the townsfolk hurled beneath their famished breaths, or the sweet breezes laced with putrid venom his courtiers blew into his ears.

A silence devoid of wind, and a wind devoid of deceit.

Where death neared—yet its gaze comforted him like the warm blessings of life, stripped of their customary dishonesty.

On the battlefield, where water turns to blood, and bread to the flesh of kin—where some starve while wailing in the arms of morality, and others feast upon the children torn from their wives’ wombs and call it strength of will.

Where coffins for his soldiers are shaped from wood, and mud, and animal bone to bear the weight of men—yet there, their eminent and eternal slumber is tangible, and beautiful.

Where their bodies remain untouched, preserved as martyrs—for pawns are always to remain unblameable. Tarnished and slaughtered for shallow purposes, and called sacrifice for the homeland.

His own coffin shall be forged from the gold ripped from the womb of the motherland, studded with gems worth more than the bones of his ancestors—yet slumber shall never come.

The kings in chess are never to be touched, yet they shoulder the sins of others.

Their bodies dismembered and served to sate the hunger of millions—judged for others’ crimes, and devoured as penance.

The crime of leading, even if it were stabbed into one’s birth.

The sacrifice for homeland: a word emblazoned in silver and steel, extravagantly adorned in gold and bronze.

Yet never useful—an ornament, gleaming in its hollow grandeur. A sword mounted to the wall: beautiful, but ineffectual.

The beast beside him bore no such trappings.

Simple, as its birth demanded.

Its white fur untainted, unmarred by failure. Its sneering smile uncanny, hungering to be human.

Perhaps it shall wear his skin once its purpose is fulfilled.

Perhaps that is its reward.

It has begun already—the arms are those of a man. It has fed on him.

But tell me, who hasn’t?

He remains an open feast, the principal course.

Maybe if he satisfies it, the beast won’t take his children as dessert.

The arms sprout grotesquely from its body—like the stakes that impaled the foreigners.

Like the madness that impaled his mind.

Or perhaps like the wickedness that crept around the corners of his home, threatening his hopes as the wolf stalks the flock.

Its humanoid fingers stretch upward, pulling the blackened corners of its demonic mouth into a smile—a grotesque mimicry.

Perhaps now it shall come for his lips, and tear the tender flesh, pluck out his teeth.

It will silence him—stealing the last weapon he holds against the masses.

Those incarnadine eyes—whose pupils nearly vanished into their color—stared at him with an insatiable hunger that remained eternally out of reach.

Famished with revenge, the beast was determined to devour it warm, while it still lived.

The unending sibilance that surrounded them—a decadent aria for their haunting and terminal liaisons of the heart.

He was the blood of the very royalty that had tarnished these lands.

The disease ripped from their womb, the agony from all their deaths.

He was the remembrance of thousands of wretched demises, the opportunity for the souls crushed beneath their resentful reign to finally take their turn.

He knew this beast, though it had not killed her.

It would drink the blood spilled in her name.

Ouroboros.

He smiles at the beast as she circles him—reduced to her demonhood, and he to his enervation.

They were alike.

The slaughterer and the slaughtered, ever clashing, yet bound together—by intimate atrocity, by blood spilled and shared, in life and in death.

This is what it means to lead:

The king in chess is never to be touched, yet always to be blamed—for all that comes after, before, and during him.

[theslothycat]

My beloved

For whom my heart beats with a wild and sacred fervor, and to whom my soul clings as a castaway to the mercy of the tide.

For whom my blood is spilt, my bones set into motion, the fire within me kindled as oil to the unyielding flame.

Where the altar of my love is built and the abyss of my ruin beckons, I shall commit the most hallowed of heresies to sanctify the refuge of your embrace.

To bear witness to your love, I shall tread only the path that leads to you, though it may demand the forsaking of all I have ever known.

You are the feebleness of my might, yet the iron of my fortress, and the sanctuary within which I seek refuge.

The divine may weave my fate into their gossamer threads, ensnaring me within the web of their predestined decree, yet they shall never claim what is no longer mine to give.

My soul has long since been surrendered—bestowed upon one far worthier than their celestial dominion.

They shackle me within the recesses of my own mind, whispering of salvation at the cost of my own undoing.

They bid me kneel, to let their sacred hands shape me from clay and mold me into piety’s wretched effigy.

But he has asked of me the one thing I can never relinquish.

And so I defile my own flesh, severing the sinews of my past, tearing every tether that binds me to the hallowed.

For I could never forsake you.

I unmake my faith, reduce it to dust and ruin, and wander the uncharted abyss of a world tainted beyond absolution.

And I let it stain me—for you are my sole sanctity.

Let me prostrate beneath your feet, trace the echoes of your steps, and be your willing devotee.

I have hollowed myself of the divine, for you have filled me to the brim with your existence.

And yet, I dare not deny that which once called itself my god—should He come forth, there is no science nor reason to dismantle the miracle of your being.

The only perfection ever wrought in creation.

Let the great tribulation descend upon me—I shall not waver, nor shall my resolve splinter beneath its weight.

As the unrelenting hand of He who is known by a thousand names smites me down, I will not plead, nor tremble.

Instead, I shall scorn His hollow paradise, for I have borne witness to one who bloomed upon this forsaken earth, a beauty beyond His lifeless heavens.

I will tread the scorched and blackened lands, watching as the ruin unfolds before my very eyes—the slaughter of our kind, the descent into horrors without end. The air will be thick with the wails of the damned, the earth slick with the remnants of those who once walked it.

Yet even as the world drowns in fire and sorrow, I will stand with you upon the cliffs, your hand entwined with mine.

And should all creation be reduced to dust and echoes, I will not despair.

For I have known a life more joyous, a peace more true, than any heaven could ever bestow—because I have lived it with you.

[theslothycat]

I can't believe JK has gone fully mask-off and just outright admitted that the reason she's decided those poor boxers must be men is because they "look like men" to her. Like, we all knew TERF ideology discriminated against women that didn't fit the eurocentric standard, particularly women of colour. We all knew TERF bioessentialism was insane and directly harmed cis women in its attempts to exclude trans women. But girl I didn't think she'd make it this glaringly obvious. JK honey I don't think you're supposed to say the quiet part out loud

[theslothycat]

when mr nonchalant turns out to be very chalant about you >>>>

[theslothycat]

Defender of men

They slither off my tongue like soap on a bathtub. Words.

Every time I look at you, my world burns and my heart stabs my lungs open.

The chemistry I feel with you flows around us like butterflies in my stomach.

I want to keep you in my arms, like a dove. I want to give you the world like Gaia.

You tie down my tongue when I think of you, and you grip my soul in your embrace. You are more than gorgeous, dunnock.

I can’t muster a single word as I try to write this. my usual tongue and fingers, studious and sophisticated as the manuscripts of humanity, fall flat on the hard concrete as i describe what you make me feel.

I won’t metaphor my way in my words or subtly put my message.

You might as well be my doom.

But what do you call a man who will only damn himself further as he strays away from his doom?

You are like the moon. Reflexes of you pace around my room both in the shiniest and darkest of nights.

Like Hecate you are a mystery, cold as death as many may call you, your wrath? paranormal.

Oh, how wrong they could be, because just like her origin you are as warm as Helios, as diverse as a iris flower, as clever as Athena, as beautiful as Apollo, as strong and agile as Zeus and as hardworking as Hephaestus.

You mean to me as much as Psyche meant to Eros.

For you I shall become you most loyal dog, if you wish me to. I shall be the Cerberus of your Hades.

I am well aware my feelings fight against the infinity of probability built by the numbers of man. I do not expect of you to give the same back.

Even though you don’t share them or see me with the same eyes. Although you don’t love me I’ll surround you with my love and pray to the gods, even if I have to crawl back like a miserable tainted bastard to the feet of my old god, for your happiness.

My fear is not one of rejection, i have been rejected since i stepped into this land: the deception and heartbreaking essence no longer foreign on my tongue. But one of loss: even though you don’t love me, i do not wish for our union to cease but to move forward and evolve like nature. Even if it means to suffer in silence, to condemn my soul to eternal suffering? If it is for you, absolutely.

[theslothycat]

Seasons

Spring, summer, fall and winter

Strings of my heart tied around your fingers

Spring, summer, fall and winter

Travel through my blood, tracing my veins like rivers in a map

Spring, summer, fall and winter

Collide against my being, my essence, we are a Stellar collision.

Spring, summer, fall and winter

One kiss, our universe made from just a scrap.

Your voice echos inside my ears, moving the engines of my cage.

My fate tied by my ankles, crawling through space with my body made of scales and my mind still a red supergiant. Song of sirens, Eye of the Storm.

Prisoners of time, we seen past and future of ages.

My body crumbles down, ashes, my soul tied by waves.

A warrior eaten by its battlefield and a god eaten by his altar, by his worshippers. Hold me tight in your hands and own my strength within with your kiss. For you I shall become your knight, but you throw my sword as you crown me a equal besides the stars.

I am the Hermes of your sun. The fallen angel of your god.

The sudden gust of wind in your tomb, the hound of Zeus, snatching you for myself like the harpy I am.

Bounded by the ancients blood in my veins, their mistakes falling down my born flesh. Supernova. The god of mars.

But you embrace my flames as you call me your vermilion bird of the south, infiltrate my season, the opposite of me: black tortoise.

The myth of the forgotten god.

Long dead songs sang of you, a walking dream on earth.

Paradise in your slumber, a sweet lullaby in your ears and tender ties in your mind.

Your altars and statues have long aged and decayed, your paintings and manuscripts already returned to the earth in which once they were born of and your prayers belonged to the broken wails of the dead.

But your existence still prevails like Uranium in seawater.

He is a blurry dream that sails in your mind like deep water currents, like the untamed winds of the sea. Something where you can only recall the pleasant parts, but never it’s full history and why he was forgotten in the first place.

Dreams may be paradise, so as can be the sea, but just like it’s body runs deeper and deeper where you can’t see the carcasses of sailors it has laying on it flesh, drowned by the traitorous abyss of subconscious.

My planet overheating with the realization hitting my bones. My master polishing my body to his liking. cutting, ripping, stabbing, breaking, burning, smashing, again again and again. My solemn wings scarred since golden times.

My steps of earth marking each passing of my endless years to come, the endless winters and summers. My past erased as he is locked away, his mistake now my consequence. His friend now my foe.

My rough feet, who only has known solitude and violent bloody floor of the battlefield, paces around the white and clean floors of a prestigious place. Like i wasn’t capable of tainting it in snap of my fingers. Unworthy.

He smiles at me, with a falsity that seems mocking. Smirking like a Cheshire cat, his purples eyes reveal nothing but power thirst: moving us around like paws in his chess game.

Friends in variety, the soberness before inebriety.

You cup my face as you tell me you will never leave me. You are my home for all seasons. You are my sun to my glacial winter, as I am your moon to your fiery summer, I am your fall and you my spring. Because just like to the galaxies to simplest of systems in our world, we are the seasons of our years and the years of our life’s but together we are a entire universe.

[theslothycat]

Blinding lights

Sizing us up in their optic, stabbing our backs in the dark.

Venom in their tongues, Black Dahlias in their lungs.

Knifes made of letters, guns made of paper. Articles.

Marching in a battlefield, like we haven’t seen bloodshed before.

Burning our names to the last particle.

Holding to their amulets and prayers, loosing their religion.

Crawling to their primal instincts like beasts, yet not even the animals are as cruel.

Accuse me, call me impious.

Bath me with your stupid water, like it’s supposed to flare worst than my past.

Shield your atrocities with the words from your perfect god, *if you only knew how pagan your god can be*

My throat slashed.

Call me a varmint, like I am not somebody’s child.

Hold your useless symbols in my face like your god hadn’t use them unholily.

Pray for his blessings in the altar like he haven’t tainted me there in the full moon night.

Hungry beasts, blinding lights, hunt like they know better than the hunter.

Devotion, but a what extent? Feasting on their god like hyenas.

Wolfs disguised as lambs.

Speaking with forked tongues yet calls themselves someone who is on the up and up.

Yet, I will hold your hand as we held each other on a spring evening.

I shall take the rams

I shall avoid the spears

I shall pierce through my sword

May the end of times near after this battlefield: I will happily descend hell for your cause, my saint.

[theslothycat]

One of the brush strokes from above

The rivers call your name, in bliss,

As peony’s adorn your eyes.

Your voice like the lullaby of the seas. dulcet. Yet it can pierce through my lungs, like a lover.

I can find bits of you in the skies

Day and night, I raise my sword in your name.

And day and night you cage me in your arms and legs like a prey.

Dance with me as their eyes burn us with their flame. “The Bird of the Hermes is my name, eating my wings to make me tame.”

Sing to me like a siren in the confine of our prison, our sin.

Our bloods clash, like a war. Water and fire.

Kiss me fervently with your lips made of Ranunculus.

Undress me as your sacrifice, skin against skin.

Hunt me like a deer, take your claim

Drown me in your body, drown my soul.

My fate is stated in the hands of the dead, but you hold me in your altar like Atlas holds the world.

Win your wars of words, of papers, as I win the wars metals and blood.

Tainted body by the cruelty of beasts. Freckles. Yet I am the only monster to feast my eyes on your naked flesh, on your mind and soul.

Invade my depths like a flood.

Skin clear and pure, Rainwater.

Your name leaves my lips like a prayer to a god.

Cleanse my manslaughter.

And your body moves next to mine in the midnight sky like a storm.

(“Birds of Hermes is my name, eating my wings to make me tame” is a quote from The Ripley scroll and it’s also used by the anime HELLSING ULTIMATE (OVA) and manga)

[theslothycat]

Cerberus

Here I am again, back to you

Crawling to your feet like a wounded dog

and technically I am one.

Craving the haven I once knew

The motherly silence now replaced with sickeningly sweet honey

My memories of you are nothing but fog

Pitch black yet it feels so sunny

Grab me by hair

Shoot me with your gun made of lips

And cut me open with your knife made of praise

Rip my skin bare

Gag me with the Forbidden fruit

Roast me to my tips

Feast on my soul and brain like a child in New Year's Eve.

Feed me your putrid blood

Smile lovingly at me

And I shall fulfill my purpose through the marble and through the mud

Pierce my ear like a slave in Exodus

Use my love as a collar

For you i am sold and bounded

I am just a number, just a certificate

[theslothycat]

Better than heaven

Rain drops knocking our window softly

The steady respiration of the wind

Is this the peace that have become so costly?

Feeling our heartbeats aligned

How you hold me so kindly

Relaxing my mind

Our fluffy covers wrapping us like protecting angel wings

Hold me tight, hold me right

Skin against skin, felling our connections strings

You are my refuge, my sanctuary

This is better than home…No

This is better then heaven

A hot summer rain in February

They all say there is nothing greater than heaven, better than God’s presence

Your serene existence, a warm divine blanket around me

Let’s enjoy our stupid adolescence

Oh, honey how you have proved them wrong

Making me filled with glee

Your soft relaxing voice singing a lullaby, a birdsong

Two pairs of beautiful windows to the deep ocean looking at me

The shining seraphic halo above your head illuminating the room

The background low noise of the tv

Let’s stay here until the flowers bloom, show me your burning celestial love in this 4-wall bedroom

Somewhere we can be free

Please don’t leave

Let’s stay here

[theslothycat]

The dead of night

Feeling the cold breeze hit me like a tender and soft whisper

My solitude never leaving me lonely

The stars swam around firely like fishes in a river

Where else could I feel this homely?

The silence’s thunderous voice never lowering its tone

Where your thoughts are free to roam and dance

My tip toes rhythmically following my moonlight partner

Losing all senses of my own

Feel it’s freezing embrace, give me that profoundly pure glance. Hold your body up on the stage. Don’t waste this chance

Floating further away, falling harder

See our shadows come to life in the moon’s warning lights.

But when I jump in front of her, I only see my porcelain body.

Secretive sights.

Hold my face with those skeleton hands

Why go back? When here I am somebody

The lost souls are my audience

Two pair of eye sockets that understands

Will you take me to my perpetual slumber, Messorem?

Give me a ticket to utopia

Hold me by my hand because I am flying away

Am I starting to have agoraphobia?

Dawn of a new day, sweating as I come to the end of my display.