Peorth is my game luring me further into the wilds smart in a natural way into its territory into its home that is orlog
my route is the fickleness of a mountain stream white with fury in march its stepped bed fuming with foam like the great serpent it roars to greet the spring its body boils meandering into the still serenity of a creek in midsommar with its mirrorlike surface shirring briefly to embrace the warm breeze
it's the beastly ancient shadow in a coniferous forest its breath fragrant with pine in its deep millennial slumber fir needles its fur a thousand eyes preying from beyond every trunk its dreams vivid feverish in heat drained parched for blood in winter
outside the yarn of time all choice is obsolete it's merely fibers flowing in the palm of a weaver raw material to translate into patterns
doom is the essence of tranquillity the ultimate callosity the all-seeing blind eye in the sky
encased in ice i watch it burn my throat is raw from the smoke the ears stuffy with wailing of sirens the window glass cracks unable to withstand the heat from within and the whole construction is humming deeply singing its funeral song it is blindingly hot and beautiful like pain it is half the face of the demon that keeps me alive forces itself upon my corpse every time i break free and swallows me back inside holds tight as it shoves me face down into the endless well that is my lifetime its stony walls slick encrusted with a thick layer of ice and the gravity hums deeply singing my funeral song far beneath
Peorth is my groggy luck an obsolete question posed by the soft click of dice the deriding grin of the dealer who has no eyes neither tongue to provide me with readings
secondary as the redhead told me expendable as the ice queen told me selbstständig as the dear leader told me untouchable as the master of beyond told me followed by the soothing grim silence of death its skull face blank its hulking outline like a gap in the frame of synthetic light and the stinging buzz of the relentless word swarm dies out sinking slowly into the cosmic shadow that crawls into the room slow and delicate seeps in from the corners
heads roll by open mouths lollygagging sense is shaky hanging on a single loose thread silvery spiderweb that gleams annoyingly illuminating the empty casket of my skull sense is sandy discarded by the threshold of this chamber of death it's a past iteration that decomposes lazily under the sun
freedom of choice is elusive illusory in the dim light of the shadow valley i dwell in in-time or not temptation is a challenge
moonsilvery and golden like the crescent stuck in the window frame it translates the distant howling of beastmen who helped bring me into the world on a piercing cold night that marks the rift in time between two years their howling is pure sorrow the essence of despair their howling haunts me always so persistent it's comforting compelling me back to the fleck of blood on the snow i was born from and i cease and desist rolling back as i've learned to tread carefully in order not to bite to the bone
will-o'-wisps illuminating the night wander aimlessly through the woods grassy meadows freezing cold rivers bare mountains the breeze rustles gently lulling arrays of humble wild flowers and the stars hum deeply as they sing their funeral songs