seen from Yemen
seen from United States
seen from Finland
seen from China
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from Morocco
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Slovakia
seen from Australia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Russia
seen from China
seen from Canada
seen from United States
seen from Italy
you fall asleep in midwinter. you wake up. it is spring. the flowers are far too bright, too pigmented, to be real, you think. the birdsong grates, artificial, against your ear drums. you fall asleep and wake up and fall asleep and wake up and it is still spring. you trust nothing and wait for summer.
in the dream you are the mangled offspring of an old god, gilded and terrifying. in the dream you speak only latin, repeating "ita paenitet me, ita paenitet me" over and over. in the dream the new god snarls at you, the priests snap and bark, the women avert their eyes. in the dream you cannot seem to wake from you are struck down at the altar of the new god, sobbing "ita paenitet me, ita paenitet me" (you are so sorry, you are so sorry)
