Nov 8, 2018 20:36:33 GMT
maddox rothscus ✨, meifon lin, and 2 more like this
Post by taoyang lin on Nov 8, 2018 20:36:33 GMT
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[PTabbedContent][PTab=BASIC][attr="class","appicon"]  | [attr="class","hkappname"] TAOYANG LIN [attr="class","appdivider"] [attr="class","appname2"]HELIOS KNIGHTS |
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voices. it's easier when they're in neat little boxes, side by side, reds blending into oranges bleeding into yellows, greens, mottled violets. it makes sense. this makes sense.[break][break]
[break][break]
[break][break]
squares
voices. it's easier when they're in neat little boxes, side by side, reds blending into oranges bleeding into yellows, greens, mottled violets. it makes sense. this makes sense.[break][break]
| mother — the color of leaves first unfurling after a long winter, yearning for sunlight. the feeling of a long hibernation, of bracing oneself against the cold, living in squallor to reach those brief moments of refuge. honey slivers when she sings soft lullabies, red snares of ivy when my siblings near; i speak of the colors in their tones, attempts to disquiet the storm of hues, but my words don’t make sense to the colorblind. | father — of ice, veins of silver-white, jagged spires of harsh blue. it's sharp to my ears, shrapnel pinpricks, and i know warm tones are better used in contrast--hushed murmurs, quiet acceptance. but she is red heat, a dying supernova burning everything around her. and so father builds walls of thick ice, shutters himself away from the heat, attempts to douse her before she can melt him first, and take the rest of us with her. |
| sister — alone, she is the brightest of blues, azure seas only dappled sunlight may bring. she is cool breeze, calm before the storm, and yet a single ripple sends through her a navy haze. smoke curls, threatens to consume, and she exhales lightning, bright red bolts of blinding devastation. and all they/we can do is let her burn us as we grasp desperately through the swirling ash. | brother — desaturated. faded light. withered. pale scars bleed as dawn pours through the sky. day by day by day, blurring minutes that taste of sulfur, missed opportunities. rasped voice choking with all the words he doesn't have the power to speak. desperate lilac, darkening momentarily when he puts on the face of royalty. broken pieces, a scramble of colors that hurts |
| outsider (i) — chords and keys, sweet symphonies. quiet rooms, eyes closed, putting the pieces back together in the only way i know how. colors flowing side by side, dipping into one another softly, sternly. they compliment me on the pieces, say i have real talent, but don't understand i'm offering them a solution. that i'm picking up the pieces to our shattered mosaic, glass stained with years of cyclical |
tricks
| there are language barriers that consist of unspoken words. entire vocabularies lost on those who can't (or refuse) to see. watch the way slender fingers tap, throat bobbing with nervous swallows, eyes flickering, caught in a lie. i study them, become a ghost on the fringes of their parties, play the stoic son and listen to their colors ripple, watch how they twist around their bodies.[break][break] they all wear masks of ornate design, lovingly, painstakingly crafted masks that protect them from themselves. i cradle brother's, try to meld the cracks, but he can't hear me. i watch him drift further, further, chasing after a silhouette of ash. it's not your fault.[break][break] to break the illusion you must first understand the illusion. i drown myself in that silent language, fill my lungs with its secrets, resurface gasping, sputtering, slowly grasping how i must make them understand. they are instruments, a cacophony of disarray, but if i pull this string, if i stress this sound, if i change the tone slightly, slowly, work behind the mask they understand, work underneath the thing they know, then i can change them. i can fix them. i will orchestrate their revival.[break][break] i will sing this mantra until they understand. they must watch, and they must listen, but not too closely, not too carefully, not before the illusion reaches its apex. [break][break] |
sanguine
i lose myself that way. i watch them break into pieces, watch them as they burn up from the inside out. sister up in flames, light snuffing out from behind brother's eyes. they lose their lifeblood, bloodied fists torn from beating against shapeshifting cages. [break][break]
i stumble. stag[break]
ger a[break]
nd[break]f[break]
a[break]
l[break]
l[break].
[break][break]
i couldn't help, couldn't help, couldn't stop this.[break][break]it's [break]my fault.[break][break]
c(h)ords snap, whip. i touch my cheek, feel a wetness there. a dull orange twang resounds from the broken string and yet all i see is red. [break][break]
i dig deeper and deeper, searching for true colors, the true colors. and when mother finds me, dark stain on the floorboards, she pulls me to her arms, spindly fingers (a needle & thread), whispers not to tell father.[break][break]he has enough on his plate already, what with your sister being gone.[break][break]
be strong now, my dear.
[break][break]be strong
lullaby
and so i must be strong. [break]
in this jade house, in these walls that swirl with mottled anger, peppercorn bruises,[break]
echoes of a better past (was it better?)[break]
must be forgotten[break]
we are here now[break][break]
father, mother, sister, brother[break]
we must be strong.
in this jade house, in these walls that swirl with mottled anger, peppercorn bruises,[break]
echoes of a better past (
must be forgotten[break]
we are here now[break][break]
father, mother, sister, brother[break]
we must be strong.
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[attr="class","hkappoocbasic"] agetwenty-two pronounsshe/her time zoneest where did you come from?the woods | [attr="class","appbasic4"]
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