Drabble: Synesthetic (Heroes; Adam)
Watching and re-watching David Anders' hand-acting in "Cautionary Tales." Spoilers for 2.09.
Adam Monroe, Kaito Nakamura. PG. On the roof.
One moment is eternity;
eternity is now.
When you see through this one instant,
you see through the one who sees.
- Wu-Men (1183-1260)
Synesthetic
Within guts and lungs, the furnace, red-hot smoke and splintered wood; without, the ashen corpse with cracking obsidian skin. I break and bleed in the spaces between. That is the only constant.
You will never know: your son did this to me.
Perhaps you could teach me in the ways of dying, but I know all there is to know about pain. Picture your worst nightmare, all the senses fresh and open as the face of a child. You do not know if you are asleep or awake. There is no escaping; the nightmare is the whole world.
But in time, as flesh becomes vapour and teeth explode into fragments in your mouth, you accept this moment will happen again, will happen again - one moment spread across eternity - punctuated by gaps when you wait, feeling only absence, feeling nothing.
That is when fear becomes a visitor I close the door on. My nightmare is just the dream I am controlling by living--
am seeing the stars unseen for thirty years,
am encountering the friction of weathered brick and metal along my fingertips,
am silent as death as you turn--
I inhale and hold it in - the ghostly scent of gunpowder, the taste of revenge.
23 November 2007
Adam Monroe, Kaito Nakamura. PG. On the roof.
One moment is eternity;
eternity is now.
When you see through this one instant,
you see through the one who sees.
- Wu-Men (1183-1260)
Synesthetic
Within guts and lungs, the furnace, red-hot smoke and splintered wood; without, the ashen corpse with cracking obsidian skin. I break and bleed in the spaces between. That is the only constant.
You will never know: your son did this to me.
Perhaps you could teach me in the ways of dying, but I know all there is to know about pain. Picture your worst nightmare, all the senses fresh and open as the face of a child. You do not know if you are asleep or awake. There is no escaping; the nightmare is the whole world.
But in time, as flesh becomes vapour and teeth explode into fragments in your mouth, you accept this moment will happen again, will happen again - one moment spread across eternity - punctuated by gaps when you wait, feeling only absence, feeling nothing.
That is when fear becomes a visitor I close the door on. My nightmare is just the dream I am controlling by living--
am seeing the stars unseen for thirty years,
am encountering the friction of weathered brick and metal along my fingertips,
am silent as death as you turn--
I inhale and hold it in - the ghostly scent of gunpowder, the taste of revenge.
23 November 2007