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pukicho

Whats wrong, you barely touched your pellets

mosscaller

I need a mix of wet and dry food.

pukicho

What the fuck. You talk?

alixfoxx

Why ask a question if you don't want me to answer? Do you perhaps enjoy being able to assume my thoughts guiltlessly?

kosmogrl

does anyone know how to act normal

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In The Aftermath The Songbird's Truths Still Linger

I scratch my wrists. They itch. I claw at my head. This dull feeling. Bloated. Bloated feeling of something inside. There is something inside. There is something. What is in there? Should I check?

I turn around. Then back. Then another way. And back. I walk up to the door. The door is towering over me. It’s closed. It’s taller and taller. I push. It resists. It doesn’t want me to get out. I push. I push. I push. It gives.

Empty hall. The buzzing. Oh the buzzing. The lights are buzzing. So high above me. I will never reach the lights. He stands in the hall. I fall to my knees.

- “Please take it away.” - I plead, my voice breaks, cracks, falters. My fingers itch. I claw at the rough floor.

- “Do you deserve that?” - His voice booming. It runs across the hall and comes back. It hits my head. My ears ring. It runs across the hall and back again. I fall flat.

- “Please. I can’t take it anymore.” - I plead. Weak. Pathetic. Creature of the lowest sort.

- “If you can’t take it anymore, why are you begging me to take it away? When you know it will come back?” - His words smash my head on the floor. Pathetic creature of the lowest sort.

I fall silent. I cower. I cry out silently. I stare up at him. So tall. Towers over me. I will never get so high.

- “Is it you begging to be let free of your soul or is it your soul begging to be let free of you?” - Booming voice. It runs down into me. I fall back. I punch air. I will always miss. Always. Lowly. Weak.

I’m alone again. In the garden. It’s quiet. No wind blows. I walk through the green maze. The stones under my feet cracked, green stalks shooting out of the cracks. Cold. Bare soles. I hover over the ground. A lone bird sits on the fountain. It drinks. I drink too. Sunlight filters through the canopy. So thick and marvelous. I sit on a stone bench. I let the lone rays touch my face. The bird sings. I listen. My soul listens. We know. We know what it sings of. But neither of us is ready to face it. We ignore the truths the song carries. We both know we can’t ignore the truth for long, but in this moment we feel bliss. As if we have come to love each other again.

A great bird of prey circles. The songbird falls silent. Its truths no longer bless us.

I walk back inside. Stumbling. The big door behind me shuts close with a screech and a scream. I cover my ears. The buzzing again. I run across the hall. It seems to be getting longer and longer and longer and longer and longer and longer and longer. I reach the door. The towering door. It doesn’t want me to get in. I push. I push. I push. It gives.

Cluttered room. No buzzing here. It’s dark. Only lone light in the corner. Lone as is. My light is lone too.

I lay on the floor. With my arms outstretched. They tingle. I raise them, point them at the ceiling. They tingle. I shake them. Pins and needles. Pins. Needles. In my elbows. In my wrists. Fingers. Are those my nerves firing? Is it my soul trying to get out?

I sit up. I walk up to the door. The door is towering over me. It’s closed. It’s taller and taller. I push. It resists. It doesn’t want me to get out. I push. I push. I push. It gives.

The buzzing. He stands there. In the longer and longer and longer and longer and longer hall.

- “Did it go away?” - He asks. Mockingly. I deserve it.

- “It never does.” - I almost cry. Silent words. Pathetic.

- “It never does.” - He mocks me again.

I stand there. The buzzing. It get ever louder.

- “Am I I or am I soul?” - I ask and flinch.

Nothing. I stand alone in the longer and longer and longer and longer hall. It seems shorter. But still it’s longer and longer. I run back. I reach the door. The towering door. It doesn’t want me to get in. I push. I push. I push. It gives.

I go to the window. The songbird sits perched on a branch outside. Its song carries the same truths as it always does. Truths that can’t be ignored any longer. But we will try anyways. A great bird of prey circles. The songbird falls silent. Its truths remain hanging in the air, ringing in our ears, blinding our eyes, digging into our skin.

The buzzing. Oh the buzzing of those lights. In the longer and longer hall outside my door. Will I ever reach the lights? Rays of sun touch my face. I sit on my bed. My hands are shaking. Backs of them red and bleeding from how much I scratched them. Yet they still itch. The itch goes up my arms. I’m restless. I stand up. I sit back down. I lay down. We curl up on the bed into a ball. Hiding from ourselves and the truth we both heard. The songbird is so loud. A great bird of prey circles. The songbird just sings louder. Its truths fill the room. Its truths unbearably loud. A great bird of prey dives down. The songbird screams. We jump off the bed. Right to the window. A great bird of prey closes its claws. The songbird falls silent. Its truths never to be sung again.

We fall to our knees. I. Soul. We take off my shirt. We put my hands on my chest. We feel my heart beating. The songbird’s truths are ringing in our ears, begging to be heard.

I dig my fingers into my skin. Thick blood trickles. Pools in my lap and on the floor. I can feel my ribcage. I pull the skin apart, revealing the blinding light of the soul. I claw at my hands. Skin breaks. Rays of this divine light shoot out, being free for the first time since eternity.

We pull and claw on the skin, taking it off like a burdensome shell. We pull on the nerves, pull them out, as only the soul shall feel. We push my fingers into my ears, puncture them, as only the soul shall hear. We dig my fingers into my eyes, as only the soul shall see.

I soar high. Above the garden. Above the longer and longer hall. Above a great bird of prey. I soar. Closer and closer to the sun. As she takes me into her kingdom.

edelweissbright

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emil

"Peggle make phone calls" has become shorthand for "fuck it, whatever" for me but no one ever knows what im talkingabout and it's also longer (longhand?)

emil