.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
06-05-2016, 10:51 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-05-2016, 10:52 PM by Zhu.
Edit Reason: messed up colour coding
)
Nightmares and violent shapes
the state of dreaming
has left me numb
the state of dreaming
has left me numb
It has never stuck him to think of what might be outside of the southern lands where he constantly finds his youthful self confided to, that there might be seas of white that bites with teeth of ice and mercilessly kills, following up it’s ruthlessness with an insult to the flow of things by holding the corpses in perfect states, as if they still live in breath. He doesn’t remember his first meeting with his father, how his mother had recklessly pulled his once small, frail boyish body into the peaks and valleys to unknowingly meet a man who played what he considers the most important role in his life.
Or at least, for now.
Patches of snow are scattered across the expanse. Grasses are clawing their way through them and reaching for an empty blue sky that he has spent what feels like hours beneath, studying how the ground reminds him of his father’s face and how the sky is like his mother’s eyes. At some naive post in his younger months, he would have worried that the sky was indeed his mother’s eyes, that she was watching and spying upon him and his every motion like she does with Hobgoblin, but he has learned to outsmart her. She has gone useless, and when her teats dried because he no longer required her milk to survive, their bond stretched further and further, thinning like the snow. Soon, his thoughts of her will be like the snow in the desert: rare, painful, and short-lived.
His legs draw out into long strides, moving a slow pace as the world lengthens out. He wonders in the back of his head if it ever ends, or if the mountains in the distance, painted shades of blue and purple with white heads, climb into the sky and then empty out to make more vast valleys. Was there ever a sea that swallows the entire world, as the one around the Dragon’s Throat does? A frown courses over his lips, brows drawing into knots and reaching towards one another as he thinks.
“Nem lesz vége a világnak, ha hozzám tartozik.”
In the back of his mind, he scolds himself for the release of his words, of prophecies that aren’t yet fulfilled.
Hungarian: There will be no end of the world when it belongs to me.
"Talk."
zhu
image credits
@Kid
