In Synesthesia and in TruthSometimes I pray in numbersIn Synesthesia and in Truth by eivanly
They intercede through wordless groans.
For 1 to kiss –
May the lion sacrifice.
For 2 to breathe –
Watch your blood become a gift.
For 3 to flee –
Wash the shadows in water.
For 4 to pause –
May your pain and pride resolve.
For 5 to stir –
Waste no more in lethargy.
For 6 to end –
Weep for your hideous hearts.
For 7 to heal –
May there be the force to wait.
For 8 to yield –
Weigh your duties with your loves.
For 9 to crack –
Walk into the light and taste.
For 0 to live –
May you pulse with the countless.
Know it is not heresy
Only a different sort of tongue.
TankedIt was a beautiful place, some would say.Tanked by eivanly
A perfect habitation, curving under the light of day and open to the scintillation of stars at night. The smooth exterior was clear and thick, blending the external view into muted colors. Inside it was filled with a pressure that filled lungs with a heavy lull, while the air itself seemed to drift in currents of warmth and promise. Tall, slender plants swayed in this atmosphere, emerging from a deep sand. In the center of the inverted dome was a ruin, so grand that one could be argue it was deliberately constructed that way. Its blue-grey arches were veined with gold and curved up and up in the most intricate of broken patterns. The plants were thickest there, among the upper columns, twisting with each other as if in an intimate dance.
Standing there in the center, regarding the architecture, was Jor. He was a tall, muscular fellow, gold of skin and possessing slanted, curious eyes. Though he had remained unmoving for the past hour, his fierc