Cast out Escape
Awaiting the executioner. Assassin’s poison dart. The rasping dog.
The mock-sun king/s…(How many heads do they have anyway?)
Swimming through aethyr through chaos through storm evading the Keepers of His Order trained to hunt down the apostate, Their watchful eyes forever between the drops of rain. On the other side of lunacy I feel a density I never have before.
It feels duller but at the same time more concentrated.
The lashes and bites from the Rasp Dog throb and sting.
But that won’t be the last of that sensation. The Keepers are approaching fast.
I escape them by cutting off my own wings with shards of glass.
They’re after a troublemaker, a threat, burning fury star-stuff, not a wretched shattered thing.
The storm will wash it all away, and I take refuge in a haze of endorphin.
A bit more fleshing out this vague concept I have…goes to this sound piece: https://jennydevildoll.wordpress.com/2015/10/23/astral-knife-dementia-praecoxia/