The Moon & The Spider
She's in my DNA. Growing in the sky, teased into the flesh by a trio of Fates.
Stop pretending, we all descend.
Their whispers wrapped around me, like seaweed. Caught you, caught you.
Caught. You.
A hook rips through, dragging all of me through the atmospheres.
Layers upon layers, more and more of me, scattered in pieces strewn between each like a crime scene. The soul shreddings trail a tattoo of violence through a matrix of material, dimensions unseen, recorded in time and space.
We call those stars, a voice says next to me.
I call those scars, I nearly choke and would if physical form were functioning.
All behind me now, until I'm strained, strained, strained into a single, glowing holographic ember, compact, regretful, fluttering.
I already know. I know they don't want me. I don't want to be here.
I am alone again. I sigh, heavy, recorded across all atmospheres in rewind to the point of origin.
This time. Will be the last. I will not....
You must. You're already here. Do not self terminate.
I promise, per contract not to, though I considered before the air ever hit this vessel.
I've forgotten so much now. Do they see? Was it a bad choice?
It doesn't matter.
Easy for them to say, since they are outside of matter.
You're beautiful.. You're so beautiful. Chanting with love.
Maybe. Perhaps. I feel love for this vessel. For me. For our point of origin.. No matter where we are, I will endure.
How though, to break through the curse? I've lived through enough of it. Before my time is up. It will no longer be with me. I guarantee it. If it's the very last I do before I go, before the hook returns.
For now, the web still holds and all of my limbs are tired.
Spider and Moon are friends. Since my blood is DNA from the moon, the spider that rules this should come back soon, right?
Spider, soft and strong, wisely sighted can we make a deal? You have fed on me so long. My turn to carry the orb of strands that can create, can alchemize fate into freedom and freedom into destiny.
Destiny is an octave higher than fate, the third thing that comes from paradox mating between the determined and infinity, possibility.
I am ready. As I am. I have what I need, curse worn and all. Let me turn this into something more fit for the divine within, for this soft sweet human vessel, for Chance.