My brother, my child, my creation, my companion. My innocent killer, in time, more than likely. One cannot blame he who is so utterly without ill intent. Truly, he is far too good, more guileless and gentle and uncorrupted and new than I ever was. Than I ever could have been...

Come, bright little shadow. It's far too late; let us take to softer ( Read more... )

Bright sun, suddenly midday. Too much bloom, it blinds, but warm, just a little. Thin warmth of a winter noonday sun, lukewarm, soupy, not quite reaching the bones but trying all the same. More just illuminating winter-bleached skin, bright, bright, too-bright white and blue-grey where the veins sit over the thin muscles. Fluid on the lungs, ( Read more... )