Genkora
Frog blast the vent core!
- Reaction score
- 92
The elegance of a mermaid, flying through the wonders of the vast ocean. Omniscience echoes over the swirling mist, and I, like you, am a wandering soul lost in the plagues of desire. A mermaid cannot love a sailor; we dream you.
Deep blue serenades the epigeal lovers; a mermaid cries, destroyed, then saved, she sinks back to genesis. Memories of Earth are forgotten, the bastard children of technology's loom rise up in respite; the day is over and dreams are to be embraced.
She bit me when I lifted her seemingly lifeless body from the soil. As I learned from Congreve, "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned; Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
In the twisting, swirling, fluxing mist, the mermaid whispers the name of the sailor one last time; her people are waiting. There are no farewells, the story is forgotten, the ship moves on. Deep inside, a hungry feeling, the skin trembles.
“Ne Cede Malis,” the mermaid's final words.
Deep blue serenades the epigeal lovers; a mermaid cries, destroyed, then saved, she sinks back to genesis. Memories of Earth are forgotten, the bastard children of technology's loom rise up in respite; the day is over and dreams are to be embraced.
She bit me when I lifted her seemingly lifeless body from the soil. As I learned from Congreve, "Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned; Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.”
In the twisting, swirling, fluxing mist, the mermaid whispers the name of the sailor one last time; her people are waiting. There are no farewells, the story is forgotten, the ship moves on. Deep inside, a hungry feeling, the skin trembles.
“Ne Cede Malis,” the mermaid's final words.
"Heaven has no rage like love to hatred turned; Nor hell a fury like a woman scorned.” I didn't make this up, it's from a play by William Congreve, dated 1697.
