Words of the Constant
It fulfills its purpose in connection.
It's no use to anyone like that.
Will it keep others in, or out?
We could use it to build a gate.
We could use it to build a fence.
Even these discarded pieces can manage to be useful.
Disorderly fences need to be brought into line.
A bucket of grime.
It's about as festive as I feel.
It's so colorful, it hurts my eyes.
Abigail always told me they were filled with wasps.
The fig cowers in its pasta shell.
The fig pieces look like little pierced hearts.
Any wasps it held seem to have been burned away.
To call death from the skies.
It needs only a light.
A tiny brightness in the dark.
Tiny lights, stranded from the world outside my pocket.
His disposition is fiery.
They sting terribly.
I like how they smell.
Father had one very similar. I doubt it ever started a fire, though.
Don't give up, little flame!
A flame to keep the horrors at bay.
This fire burns with passion!
It's losing the will to go on.
It's a comfort.
This can be rekindled, unlike my heart.
The world will burn before this staff.
It's running on fumes.
Quiet as a corpse.
I don't know why you bother. We're all going to burn.
It was flopping around desperately for life. The poor fool.
To ensnare fish and tear them from their peaceful lives.
With this the fishies will be ripped from the safety of their precious pond.
It's been decapitated.
A proper grilling puts a stop to the flopping.
The dessicated remains of a fish.
There are other fish in the sea. Bigger ones, hopefully.
It will... tide... me over for now.
Withered away to almost nothing.
Perfectly molded blocks of fish.
Hopefully no bones still linger within.
It feels a bit cruel to trap them within sight of freedom.
A proper grilling puts a stop to the flopping.
A tiny blade-like rock.
I knew it couldn't last.
It does lift my spirits... a little.
I should save this for when it's darkest.
One does not need water to drown.