i will be out, where the
farms meet the barren
tumbleweed plains, and in
we will watch the wildlife
graze and we will come
to a forest, ripe and opluent
in greens where the sky
meets the beauty of the land
and the clouds know it’s name
and i will be as blinding
as the sun in the high of noon
suspended delicately in
our home, a place we know
not by it’s name
but by the way that it feels
and ill tell it “mother,
by all you have given me
i am sorry we could not live
up to what we were supposed to.
Humanity is a broken and foolish
concept that we try so desperately
to honor. This privilege we have
dishonored” and i will ask
her for forgiveness
even if i do not deserve it
i will give her the penny in the well
the outcry of my solitude
i will give her all my existence
in the hopes that it could mean something
carve out the love, and the tears,
and the emeralds of it all
to show the riches, that may sleep there
if people were buildings, she’d be a castle, because she is wide, wide rooms where draughts blow out the fires that flush your cheeks, the skirt as full as a red rose hiding your bare feet and pins tickling your scalp. She is dances where she traces the shape of your waist with her ringed fingers, and she is even taller than usual because of the high-heels she is wearing under her skirt, and it’s as blue as the body of the peacock that parades in the garden, and people hum that you complement each other after all. She is the weight of perfume on a starry breeze, the curl of a lipsticked mouth and the lift of a gaze that pulls you down high-ceilinged corridors and sweeping staircases detailed with gold. She is every inch a princess, and you take soft, sadistic gulps of pleasure in watching her crown tip sideways as the night goes on at the bottom of some secret passageway where the music fills your skin even though you left the ballroom behind miles ago.
Surely I’m turning into the Aaron Hernandez of rap State of emergency, the planet’s having panic attacks Brady’s returning, matter of fact I may be deserving Of a pat on the back, like a Patriots jersey Inexplicable stomach growl from the pit of it Like a fuckin’ Terrier hid in it Despicable, dumb it down, ridiculous Tongue is foul, shoot off at the fuckin’ mouth Like a missile, a thunder cloud Hundred pound pistol, pull the trigger, this gun will sound And you’ll get a round, like Digital Underground And fuck Ann Coulter with a Klan poster With a lamp post, door handle, shutter A damn bolt cutter, a sandal, a can opener A candle, rubber, piano, a flannel, sucker Some hand soap, butter, a banjo and manhole cover Hand over the mouth and nose smother Trample ran over the tramp with the Land Rover The band, the Lambo, Hummer and Road Runner Go ham donut, or go Rambo, gut her, make an example of her That’s for Sandra Bland, ho, and Philando Hannibal on the lam, no wonder I am so stubborn I’m anti, can’t no government handle a commando Your man don’t want it Trump’s a bitch, I’ll make his whole brand go under
Little wannabe girl Lolita-? You fool, you fool. Who do you think you are? Audrey Hepburn dreams beneath a crystal chandelier. Van Morrison songs by the poolside. Like you live in a movie. Like you live in a reverie. The ghost of a feral greed hums hungrily in your chest. You ache so bad for everything. Bleeding in sync with the silence and the restful chambers of psychedelic sleep. Pink flowers in the blossom upon your lilac-tongued heart. The way your collarbone dips like a crescent moon bathed in ivory and silk, and the battle of carnations taking place in your lungs. Dusk is a shadowy silhouette of a lover by a teary-eyed sea, bubbles in the air, the sky smeared with the skeletons of a thousand unhappy stars; his hand, reaching out, like a zephyr. Warm touch. You’ve never felt this volatile before, as if you’ll take another breath, just a single breath, and all the world will erupt and come undone beneath your ribcage. And he will conquer your veins, kiss your antelope skin and have you skittering viciously across his gales, every synapse of your body burning into his, your teeth melting into his mouth like dandelion buds.
I want to get to a place Where I can write about something Anything - other than my despondency Without it feeling forced Where I don’t need to say to myself “You’ve written about the same thing for weeks on end” Where I don’t need to feel like my mind Is something to be curbed I don’t do it Because I worry what people think Or out of some vain need to keep my poetry “interesting” I don’t think I’m capable of writing like that No I do it Because I need to believe That my life is more than the sum of its parts That it’s more than me, sitting alone Smoking a seventy-nine cent black-and-mild Curving my mindset the only way I have access to right now Calling people and hearing the same robotic voice - politely informing me that person “cannot accept my call” Trapped in a cage That everything put me in And no one can be blamed for I wouldn’t want to, anyway The monotone hum of my refrigerator The same - always the same white, pasty walls Crushed inside a slew of commitments That constitute my only chance of ever leaving this fucking place So I give the cage everything I have, and then And then the doors slam shut again What an empty life this is What an awful, pitiful fucking drudge That I work so hard to impress the people who need to be impressed I can’t even impress myself But what’s the alternative? To throw away years of work? Throw away thousands - hundreds of thousands and for what? A whim? I’m sorry The world doesn’t work that way And if I don’t fit into this world I still have the comfort of knowing it’s better than the alternative So please Remind me again How lucky I am How privileged I am And I’ll laugh - nod - agree with you While I continue to bang on the walls of this cage The only way I’m always sure That I’m still alive
Due to the unexpected appearance of a Purple class-N demon on Team B’s last mission, there has been a lesson set up for the team to understand the different kinds of demons of the world.
Some demons are generated in labs for certain kinds of training such as education unit training and military uses. The weakest demon class, Green class, is generated in a lab, based on Blue class’ form, but weaker. They are the demons the weakest Superhuman could face and defeat, even humans can destroy these kinds of demons under special circumstances. They are usually inhuman and attempt to form in the shape of animals and insects, but appear to fail.
The next class, also used in education training, is Blue class. This class is very rare in the wild, and often has to be unnaturally generated if a Fort requires them. These are fairly strong demons which often look like animals with melanism but can be found out by often having a large glowing blue spot on their bodies somewhere, often on a flank or partway through a leg, hence the class name.
Blue Class E is a subsection of the Blue class demons. They have the same blue spot on their bodies and they are as strong as the regular Blue class, however, they appear as humans. They have low brain power and can’t speak or make tools, but they attack with their teeth and often try to kill any human close to them. Sometimes they try to speak.
Purple class is a common class, used in education and often look like animals. These demons are used in second phase Superhuman training; when the Superhumans are newly transformed and ready to take on these slightly more agile and stronger demons. They act like regular animals but have a stripe or spot of purple on their faces.
Purple class N is what Team B experienced on their last mission. The N stands for Nightmare, according to most people who have experienced one (It probably had a real meaning once, but Nightmare sums it up pretty well). They appear as children, often with cold purple eyes, and they have the ability to sing in words that almost sound like a language. They’re as strong as a small child but are often not used in training due to their very frightening nature. These are uncommon in the wild and often appear in forests. These are usually killed by Education fort’s offence group (Brady, Ruby, and Benji in Fort Swift).
Red class is a lab-generated class used in Superhuman training.They are based on the Pink class base. They appear as Ghosts, but every part of them that is translucent is solid. These demons have human-like intelligence but can’t speak full sentences. Often they try to find a way to suffocate humans and Superhumans, making them dangerous to find when alone. They’re easily defeated.
A Yellow class demon was what Team B experienced on their first mission to the island; a large, animal-like demon; common in the wild and extremely strong. They don’t attack people often, even if they themselves are being attacked. They are regularly found in deserted places or abandoned locations. They are often used in military and Superhuman training.
Pink class is a common class to find in open plains, abandoned buildings and various other similar places. This class is as strong as a human and appears as tribesmen and tribeswomen. They have the brain power of a human and the ability to communicate with others of their tribe, but their language isn’t yet understood by humans. Different from most demons who have black skin with coloured spots or stripes, these demons are pure white with pink spots. They can create tools and often attack anyone who comes close, including animals and other demons.
Black class is a very dangerous class, appearing as ghouls; half human and half ghost. These are only handled by the most elite demon hunters and appear in places of mass death or where a lot of corpses are found. Due to this, often people bury their dead far away from civilization, and wars usually take place overseas rather than near people. These demons are very common, but usually prefer to be hidden in the depths of night.
The final class, Grey class, is generated in a lab for training fro elite demon hunters. Not much is known about them besides the fact they’re used in training and are extremely strong. Some say they exist in nature, but nobody can be sure.
Knowing this information allows Team B to be able to communicate the kind of demon they believe to be facing within their missions. Taylor will be training their senses to tell apart these kinds of demons, which also means the fort will have to wither ship in these kinds of demons for their training, or they’ll have to visit a facility where demons are kept. The nearest of suck facilities is overseas and pretty hard to get to, so the fort decided to ship different kinds of demons in.
As the Fort decided this, Evie, Martha, Annie, and Artwin began working on a device for Taylor to use to tell the team where demons are on the island. They used a map of the island and nearby islands and added a touchscreen so Taylor can add different coloured spots to the map so the team can know what to expect when on the island.
“you can feel a rush, now. even when he isn’t there. but how dare you, skinless, broken thing, ever believe someone could love that face. go ahead, overthink him, his thoughts, his kindness. maybe. how dare you take half of him and make it yours. he wasn’t even giving you anything in the first place.”