For Clancy
Death didn’t look how I imagined he would.
Death didn’t look how I imagined he would.
Nine dragons perched on nine towers, chained.
A clockwork heart sat abandoned, missing its gears.
Silhouetted against the darkening horizon, a hand reaches.
A fairy tale meet cute in less than 150 words
If every heartbeat is a kickdrum…
“It is time,” Sun says.
Again? I almost sigh; it’s pointless. I trudge towards the horizon, harpoon in hand.
The reflection shatters into a thousand shards, resplendent, subversive, cutting edges catching light.