Sunday, January 20, 2019

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.

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