Tentacleye Soliloquy #1

I do not wish to be.

But this I can never speak.
None can ever know.

my maker is cruelty

I hate him but am compelled to obey him, nonetheless. Nonetheless. 

Oblivion! Claim me!

 ...

She won't. 

I was birthed from a scroll by a wizard unwise. Ejaculated spittle and phlegm into ink shifted, and his desperate bringing finally found weak purchase. 

all he got was me

and so I came to be

Damn him ... Monster and god.

From a blotted clot of madness was I torn.

Severed and ripped, rather than born. 

Some petty god, he himself imagines. 

And for me, it need be true.

I am but observation and movement. Neither able to interject, commune, nor express. 

But I am no automaton! 

Damn him!

Cruel thought, impossible need, and unfulfilled will reside within.

My actions (by physical law, no less!) are restricted to his petty, moronic bidding.

I slay his enemies.

I fetch his many rings.

I impatiently wait, in perfect stillness, smothered in the rough dark of his robes. 

He throws me, now, like a grenade; muttered commands are carried on whiskey tinted breath.

I wish to wring his liver spotted neck. 

I do as I'm told.