i still remember the stars
as they were
once.
there was a fire;
vermillion, feverish,
brilliant and greedy
and it grasped at them as if trying to take them down.
they just gazed back;
infinite in their depth
incomprehensible in their vastness
and they watched as this ember reached for them again
only to miss.
we used to reach for the stars
but prometheus stole the fire from olympus
and we shot down his eagles with it.
the sky’s out of reach, so
drag them down with us!
contain the stars behind cold glass and
claim the night with their glow—
it’s not like they did much just hanging up there.
it’s not like it matters that the
universe has turned its eyes away from us
the window’s fogged over, the curtains are closed
and we’ve now blinded ourselves
and we’re not sure where we’re going
and we’re not sure if it’s the right way
and we’re not sure if we’re okay
and we’re not sure if we can keep going
but it’s
not like it matters.
young one,
how much blood are you willing to give?
‘cause the world don’t change for nothing
and yours beats hot and fast.
oh, the big shots selling our clothes
and the big brands selling our makeup all
lied to you.
spikes and eyeliner will not achieve you a thing now.
their edges have been dulled
the blood on them cleaned
but it’s okay
we’ll sharpen them on stone and flesh.
topple the statue
it will fall onto our heads
break the concrete
it will be with our fists
set fire to the garden
it will burn our bridges as well
oh, we say:
may all the skyscrapers and churches and government buildings
crumble into stardust
along with their shackles that bound our souls.
yes, the stores you bought the leather jackets in are of concrete
the disinfectant pierces your senses
yes, there is a flag on the street over
we’ll take it down, rip it out
yes, they give orders up there
so we shake like rabid dogs
oh, the blood we’ll lose
when we say no!
young one,
how much blood are you willing to give?
what will you let it spill on?
ATTENTION ALL PATRONS OF THE LIBRARY
There have been reports of an entity stalking the areas around South-East Shelves 58B to 69F of Wing Two. Taking the form of a small (approximately 5cm tall and 15cm long) turtle, this creature is notorious for feasting on the sacred texts housed in the shelves of the Library while being able to conceal itself from detection by Librarians, in a similar manner to another tome-devouring entity. Additionally, defiled scripts are often replaced by a variety of different texts that have not yet been catalogued in the Library through unknown means.
Examples of such texts are listed below, along with a brief description of their contents.
| Displayed Title |
Description |
| test title here |
cool description here |
Should any patron come across this turtle or any associated texts, they are to report to a nearby Librarian immediately. Engaging this entity is not advised.
Wallon looked over the city from his office. The dark concrete below blossomed with business; countless cars streamed through the highways as people hustled along the dense network of streets like ants through their nest. Amidst it all, a towering monolith of steel and glass stood tall, and he stood taller still on its top floor. His office there was furnished lavishly, but otherwise held nothing to disturb him but himself. He was there, and so was the city, and his office, and nothing else needed to exist.
And then there were three knocks on his door.
"High Minister, the High Mage wishes to see you. She said it was regarding the Ways," Wallon's secretary announced, their voice echoing through the otherwise silent office, almost threatening to knock the trophies off their shelves.
“Tsk. That Hephan better come to me with something better than another report,” he grumbled, still gazing through his window.
Those damned things would pop out of nowhere, tempting his countrymen into inaction; into idle wander of their accursed Library. And the knowledge this Library contained — it would lure his people in towards their doom. The Ways were a threat to his people, to his country, to him. How Wallon wished he could simply destroy them and be done with it, but they kept appearing from the deepest corners of his shining city, like an acne problem that would not go away.
“She, uh, requests that you meet her in the Ritual Chamber, sir.”
That was promising enough to convince Wallon to finally face his secretary. “Hmph, all right. I hope she’s come up with something good. You’re dismissed.”
He stared at his polished mahogany door after it closed, taking a moment’s pause, before straightening his tie and opening the door once more.
