tonight we watch
the beheadings take place
upon the Yellow Blood Stone
clear stars are of velvet
on a water painted canvas
and the whole town gathers
Rhymnylljol Nobles lined up
in glorious hand shackles
forged from their rotten wealth
then the Sherar boys
who love the lady Ciara
now late contending for her hand
she watches with glee
her wrists of blue and black
lacking grimace and plight, just joy
that each and every noble decree
their ghastly ascendancy
no height too high lined up the burning hill,
so may their burning blood
become a moat at
its base, 'neath no gentle swayed from fate
today, though, I will try
to take my head
out from the water, outside my ass shit
when it is dry
I'll still feel your whip
tighten around my neck
forcibly removing
me from my own
self inflicted devastation
I mean you are me
the reason I never
cease to be
Reader, do you know
how I dream now?
I dream to be real in your head
to see the things I see
gain strength and imagination
in the weeping shallow and seething deep
to learn to not breathe how I breathe
and the mistakes I have made
as a Rhymnylljol noble
let me find a cozy place
to dig inside your brain
and consume it
you will know
what I have forgotten
and why remembering is holy.
.
a/n: I had a dream where these red hooded noble people lined for miles outside a town with golden grass under velvet stars and dark blue tear streaked skies. The Giants holding up the cities still stood tall in the background. A guillotine rested upon a hill and each noble were to apparently be its victims. They each murmured a word "Rhymnylljol" and that is all I could make out from the scene. There were crowds watching this take place and each one went to the blade, without struggle, as onlookers cheered.
