He watches; quiet, reflective. No doubt he detected The weight of my Body-shaped shame. My name similar to his, Who now rots under sunlight, Unabashed in his righteousness To which I was blind. I find myself here, In a garden once perfect, Now tainted with ******. I heard the scratching, Faint at first, So I turned and saw him. The raven watches; Quiet, perceptive, His gaze so effective. His foot scratches the ground, Making a sound that feels Almost peaceful. He unearths the freedom That I need him to show me. Just below me, The earth is opening up. I grab my brother's limp arm, Drag him away From the evidence of his harm. Further away From the judgment of God. The raven approves; He quietly nods.
Decided to take part in NaPoWriMo. http://www.napowrimo.net/day-one-it-begins/
Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I have spilled my brother’s blood and cursed humanity far worst than you did. Doomed to be the creatures who invented ******, Oh tell me, father, what have I done?
My demons won out and my jealousy raged. I let my anger consume me, and my dragons grew stronger.
In my hand, I hold my brother’s beating heart, Oh tell me, tell me, father. What have I done?
Do we live in the space of reality, or merely the reailty of a fantasys delusion Do you hold the serpents tongue? Do your palms seek to destory creation? Who is the child of Christ, when God is the curve of the Devil’s smile Do we seek the bliss of human community, or do we wish to merely control what we want? Are we the true heart of darkness? Or are we merely the blood pumping that most poison of ruby
I don't believe in Cain and Abel. It is, like, a fairy tale; a fable. If the world had no glocks, We could defend ourselves with rocks.
I was sporting with fb friends about a sign that cited the first credited ****** in the world in the gun control debate. I wanted to respond in a cute way. Is bringing up the idea of ****** really a good idea when beseeching to have less gun control?
His consciousness moved, his body did not. He was bound to the ground. A fallen angel stood amidst the tempestuous flames, yet he did not burn. The younger brother was unstable, malleable; he must be put to the test. Thus, the angel fashioned a blade of immense strength that wielded the powers of his hell, upon its hilt inscribed -in seraphic tongue- Convicta. Use it he said. Use it as a vessel of your hate. At once, His soul clung to the demonic weapon, his body was left behind. You cannot leave, the angel said, unless he is brought to this side. And Abel knew what must be done, and began the journey out of the inferno.
Cursed, he was; forced to roam these lands until the last of days. A divine sigil rests upon his brow; an invitation to imminent destruction. T'was he who slew his brother, and by doing so, had dug two graves. But his brother was not lost, no. For eons he slumbered in the pit; his revenge fueling the raging infernos that surround him. Until one day, he stirred. And upon his unholy resurrection he recalled a name, and his fury grew all the more.