Young knife, a sharp-edged spirit easily angered
This knowledge (unwillingly learned) is beaten into you, why shouldn't it be thus?
Passion and bloodlust, my dreaming and dancing companion
No calm, no peace, and you are the reason

...no, I have no idea why there's free-verse poetry written in Bato'Cirn sitting on my hard drive, but it seemed like a useful thing to add to the image I just finished. Appropriate, somehow. Oddly enough, it's not the image I started out intending to make. My brain will do that sometimes - I'll get an amazing idea and start working on it, but by the time I'm done it's somehow become an entirely different image, different feel, different pieces, different look. It's mildly annoying most of the time, as the image I had in my head when I started working was a damn good one and by the time I have this new image made I've forgotten much of the original one, so I can't just make it too. Occasionally though... occasionally it'll become something more personal, more necessary, and then I don't regret it at all.

This is one of those times.

The title of the piece is "Even Angels Cry" - not particularly original, but somehow it fit what I was feeling.

I wish Puppy was here. I love Kate, I love Torian, Rhia's awesome, the hamsters are nifty, but... I wish Puppy was here. I've had almost no contact with him the last few weeks and it's starting to actually worry me. Normally he only avoids me when he's been doing something - or someone - that he knows I'd disapprove of. *shrug* I could chase him down, could get new phone numbers, could lurk in WoW constantly, but... meh. I don't think I could really respect myself if I did that.

I...

...love is not a victory march
it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah...

...yeah. I do miss him a lot. I'm not going to chase him, not like that, anyway. *the faintest of smiles, her eyes darkening* No, I'm just going to open up a certain box, trace my fingers over the lettering, touch the tokens chained inside, see if it still holds the treasure that was locked inside. I may not be able to see him, may not be able to wrap my arms around him or run my fingers through his hair, may not be able to feel him at my feet, but I can still touch that part of him. And touch I will, until his own body is aching, his mind spinning, and every stray thought is of Me.

Do I really think that it's possible to touch someone like that?

Yes.

And more importantly, he thinks so as well. He's felt My hands around his throat, felt the heat of Me coiling around him, felt the steel threads I spin weaving tight. He's experienced just how real such contact can be.

She comes to me at night when I'm sleeping
She comes to me when I'm alone
She comes to me,
She holds my head when I'm crying
She comes to me,
She shuts my eyes
She brings me home
But I'm not sleeping anymore, anymore
But I'm not sleeping anymore, anymore
She tells me when you look at me
She tells me when you're lying
She tells me when you talk about me
She lays me on the floor
She tells me when you're whispering
She lies beside me naked
She tells me when you laugh at me and
She locks all the doors
But I'm not sleeping anymore, anymore
But I'm not sleeping anymore, anymore
1-2-3-4-5-6-7 a.m.
All alone again
But I've been through all this shit before
Spend my nights in self defense
Cry about my innocence
But I ain't all that innocent anymore, more, more
I see Her on the TV, I see Her in the movies
I see Her in these animals that dance inside my head
I'll follow you down baby
Down into this valley
I'll follow you down baby but I won't come up again...

*slight smile* Nothing ever really changes. It's all just one endless circle, and here I am again, waiting, wanting, preparing to stalk My prey. Funny how that works.

Thank you, selia... I suspect I'll be drawing on your strength a lot at some point in the next few days; mine has been drained dry.