The female teetering on the edge of the boat shivers, her form filling with ripples. She cannot decide whether she is colored or not. In a land where people can walk on water, should they have appropriate reason to do so, she is bound to the ever dilapidating plank of the toy boat. Perpetual lurch.
She tricks you. Into swimming. You watch yourself swim away from the very same boat, chasing the hidden object before the inevitable submersion. It might not be too late, except there was never time. Mother Matriarch is merciless. Distorted and ever-fracturing being of unconsciousness. She teases and tricks as the doctor brings the man to completion. He keeps going. By now you’re confused, but with a little less fear. You walk down the plank, ever growing, and see versions of young you and a young boy hang yourselves. You were hurt and chose to sleep to the awakening desire within.
Mother changes and the forbidden begins to play. Suddenly red, primitive painting, flooding your senses and working its flame down your veins, stripping them dry of theirs. You walk on water and see the beast lurch below. The leviathan has more heads than you remember. Thankfully you are not alone. The monster is just for you.
The sea bound matriarch attempts to get you to read ancient texts. She feeds you her body. She brandishes knives and stabs you, motherly penetration, perverse attachment leaving you feverish. Animus doctor cradles you, and you survive on your good intentions. The wound cauterizes itself. It was merely a fright. The pain does not exist. The pain never had the right form to exist. No amount of rage will change that.
You are free so long as you integrate the mother. You are free so long as you enjoy madness. You are free so long as you solipsistically penetrate your own consciousness. You are free so long as you murder your own matriarch. Mother. Chase her until she runs.
You won a long time ago. Now you stand on the edge of the boat, lonely and full. You recall the fragment of you that chased the lost object, and bless the eternal swim. You know now. You know now. A beast can find its home anywhere.
Aged animus kneels before you. You peer into the murky sea and see mad mother. Your veins are clean and you paint the primal. You birth your leviathan. From a small plank on a crumbling ship, you bask in the divine primitive, and move no more.
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