there for you [carter&larceny]
Feb 6, 2019 4:46:31 GMT -5
Post by Arrows on Feb 6, 2019 4:46:31 GMT -5
![](https://i.imgur.com/wMYG7q6.jpg)
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There's a flicker in the peripheries. There's a dimming in the fire. Fleeing into the hazy horizon of rebirth, emotions wither to smoldering segments of ash. Does a voice find song after it's chords have been cut? Do the legs of a dancer still leap once they have been broken? Does a porcelain doll stay glued together after it has been shattered? Is there a beginning in the end, or is it all just reminders and remnants of a fallen flame?
Does life really still swirl through the once eviscerated veins of my existence, or am I too another soulless shell?
There is pain in the kiss of consciousness, torture in the touch of reality. A broken boy sewn to the strings of a marionette played by the fingers of an unknown master. Inside this skin of constant experimentation is a cold and quiet watcher. The world which once denied him carries on in contempt. It kills his sister. It slaughters his friends. Yet he remains watching, persistent life plunged into him by the demands of external entities. He is not human, he is not happy or sad, he is just a boy beyond his expiration date.
He is me.
On a shadowy sea of sleep there is refuge from the world. Within a realm of mental manipulation, the stars and the sun hold no influence. Time is stagnant and the water silk. Wars waging within an arena are only tiny tremors on a constant surface of softness. They do not break the boat nor sink the ship. They simply steal a second then settle into the shade. Out of the sphere of mortality, the fires of feelings can still send embers dancing through the night. A sky speckled with the swirling spirit of living light. A sky welcoming to the weary and freeing from the sanctions of wrongfully revived.
The warden comes at dawn. The sea shrivels and the feathers of the fire wilt, a phoenix on its burning day. In the of breath of day I am returned to suspension. The strings pull, play, pierce but there is no meaning in the actions. Food is forcefully provided by hands still stained with the murder of Larceny Theft. The heartbeat they have restored in the chasm of my chest is no blessing, it is not mercy. The heart is black and bruised, a reminder of the strength of their grip. A reminder of the strings they can pull.
There is cruel, dark, knowledge in this gift of living. Within this man-made miracle the workings of hell turn its gears. The chill the clanking, churning metal makes sends shivers down my spine. In this display of self proclaimed grace, the underlying truth is toxic. They posses the power to save us, their tattered and torn treasures whose blood has soaked countless screens. They have the power that could have saved every soul who has perished in their games, a reminder that they control everything.
A new figure enters the frame. He is no experimenter or string master, but another puppet being pulled by a set of his own strings. I recall the promises that sent swords and claws through our skin. I remember the smiles that were shared under false starlit skies. I remember the trust forged in the brutality. But I feel nothing. I am still just an empty shell.
In death he shares his apologies, yet there is need for none. Even if my emotions lay only in the smallest tributaries of my eyes, the trust that rests with the name Carter Laws is eternally prevalent. In silence he waits for a move or a word, but what can one dead boy say to another? My eyes turn towards his and I realize the answer, anything.
"Fuck apologies. We lost you first anyways."
I shallow hard, the sensation still seemingly raw.
"I still have your back too," A trace of a smirk settles in the corners of my lips "as long as you don'y try anything weird in this... sex dungeon?"
Laughter isn't something I'm able to find just yet but, the humor is light enough. My feet find the floor for the first time and the weight of myself is foreign. A single step swiftly brings my hand to side of the cot. A once King of Thieves reduced to such weakness, its pitiful really.
"What's there to do in this hell hole?"<><><><><><><>