Vastius

The ending business of an etching goodbye, betwixt the blunder and the brood, eradicated flailing concerns, gobbled up the esoteric posturing, and thrusted forward the salivating sudden urge to break the black marble underneath his fisting feet. His prudent and prestigious parents had conceived him the first and fairest of them all. His parents were Olympians of oblivion, and thus had gifted him to lesser vermin to test his worth: a terrestrial home with celestial erasure was to be his fate. Eyes perfectly placid and wanting for not, nevertheless the child deemed unworthy of the world, constructed the corners of the universe according to his will—anchored by the edges of the planet that imprisoned his prepubescent disposition. Lips perpetually pursed and pulsing with the pensive disdain for people’s prurience. Hands crafted the black arts unknowingly and quite naturally—a sorcerer plunging at the stone with a fiery sword of graphite summoning chimera clumsily and with nihilistic nonchalance. Biting his tongue when the elders scolded him for his precocious proclivities. What fools these mortals be, he thought running fingertips aflame across the frozen face of fear belonging to a dog deceased, a frenzied and shuddering fox( and only opening them up for dissection after they had expired, as he liked them more than humans). The company of other children drained his vital energy as he felt them useless things.

 

 

And he would wander.    And he would ponder.

 

And no one quite understood. The swirling and shifting depths of the god child; for his slithering tongue was the cosmic brush that elegantly conjured the cracking cunt that birthed the gorgeous chasm where chaos reigned; his cold stone heart strapped down the rabid hounds he knew as emotions and heeled them to submission; incandescent consummation of his stare did see past the present and the past and fucking fervently the future, in everlasting rings of eternal return…

 

And he knew, they never would.

∞