I wrote weird prose back in the day when I was all fucked up on adderall- specifically a series of several free form pieces that are essentially lost to the internet. Basically some odd shit about the collective desperation of a grip of slaves manifesting and finding.. life, I guess.

IDK man.

Occasionally, I stumble across some of it, so I'll use this thread to host it.

The Illender Cycle I: The Fires of Oppression
Spoiler:
Hunger
maddening
born in the chained sweat
of broken backs and
the tragic palsy of ruined hands
sheltered and fed in the
black groping of eyes that will not see
in every heart that breaks at the masters lash
I am there
in the searing dungeons of the Underthing
I was born to a man with no
name whose end was writ
long before my conception within the ash of his life
I first drew breath
fathomless and unaware
a strange thing
to be unformed and learn to breathe
to walk with legs not my own
to live and thrive in the broken
I am no longer a man
though I was once
my name... fades from memory
irrelevant
I am the steel in the spine
of a man made from glass
what I am is a lurking
a shadow behind eyes
the hidden knife-glimmer
of defiance in the dark
and I am growing
and I am feeding
and swelling fat on discontent
and when I wake there will be no screams
no pleas for mercy
there will be no bargain
no resistance
when I wake there will be only fire and then
nothing
nothing but ashes


The Illender Cycle II: Aftermath
Spoiler:
The ash is ankle-deep
and the air still smells scorched
an ochre haze clouds my vision
and the walls still shake
with the memory of my wakening
there is nothing but this hallway before me
and the grimy reminder of sweat
and blood and ash a reminder
that clings to new pink skin
a bald pate and harsh eyes
blue and as fathomless and unforgiving
as the winter sky
the last to die saw those eyes
I watched and felt her gaze
drop and pointed sink
through icy clawing water
there is nothing left behind me
endless catacombs stuffed with
burned memory
I know that when I leave this place
I know that it will fall
my new bones are strange
coat of skin gleams like burnished
bronze because I am born of fire finally freed
there is no choice
no path but forward.

I begin to walk.


The Illender Cycle III: Of First Light
Spoiler:
The smoke from this charnel altar
billows around me as white swallows my world
I have never seen such light
concieved in tunnels and born
in desperate darkness it blinds
me and I can but stand in awe
the pain recedes and in its place comes
clarity
what I know must be oaks
stretch to the sky and dapple
the spongy loam as wooden fingers
cage in the sky
to move is revelation
and I realize my flesh steams
the first bite of cold
batters me as it drives closer
eyes down and jaw clenched
the blood pumping in new veins
chases the ice as the wind enfolds me
to RUN
such a joy
life streaks by
the gentle embrace of an unending dream
before me the precipice looms
and my first smile born
as a virgin heart hammers my ribcage
my eyes are wide and what I feel I cannot name
as foot touches ledge

and then wind is all around me
and rippling glass rises to meet me in the quiet dawn
it is silence as I meet glass
and burst through
the cold enshrouding once more
new lungs ache and with joy I open my mouth
the water fills me
chill enfusing
and I seem to pop and I am free
and oh of first light
what wonders to tell
as I drift in chill embrace
I am the water and it is of me
and it is then I know
that I am no longer a man
no longer a spirit
no longer an idea
I am a becoming
and as I break the surface once more
my feet find land and the wind
kisses my flesh
and sweat and grime and blood and ash
are washed away and now
I hear it
the sun is calling
and in me it is answered