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CARDS chapter 4
Devlin awoke the next morning to the bright sunlight coming from the slightly cracked window. He looked around to see that he was not in his normal room. This one was not nearly so familiar and neat as his own. Clothes were semi-scattered throughout the room, the closet door neatly shut. One of the dresser drawers was open, revealing a store of night clothes and undergarments. The bedside table had a digital clock flashing that it was 7:00 a.m.
The last thing he noticed was himself. He was dressed in an oversized nightshirt, which was only partially buttoned at the top. Devlin felt something warm against his back and holding him close. He turned over to find that it was a certain violet-haired man whom he happened to work with. Realizing this, he fought back a blush and tentatively called out, "Chess?" Seeing how this technique did not succeed in waking the man up, he tried a little louder. "CHESS!"
This startled the cat-man so badly that his head hit the headb
SolaceShe never slept well in the dark,
not without the children of the sun and moon
to guide her weary lids home.
Guided by the aftermath, she was always two steps behind.
What did the world look like to the girl who had been through it all?
Braved the heaviest of storms,
yet skipping over cracks in the pavement.
They said her eyes were the wisps of clouds before the storm.
To him they were reflections of pages overlooked.
She said it was like she lived the life of someone she had never met.
Laid out to dry, yesterdays news.
He knew her as the girl who was built to never collapse.
He wished he was too.
He loved her more than words could say, and yet her pain was such,
that at times, he feared she wouldn’t make it.
But on nights like these, even when it threatened to consume her,
he became convinced that somehow she would.
Southern modernizationBlack comedy market economy, banana peel political humour, cards with the cartels, the solution free room service and credit the union. Bolivar twist, ding dong dollar under control, valley of the coin desert with no value. Gangsta paradise, the victims are the people. Big mac and cold conflict interference a part of it all. In little Mexico you’d need a high horse to jump the great border wall that boasts its peak.
Viracocha melts waters unlike those it rose from, making waves of out of metal oceans to overtake the current south, re-steel, re-take, tech-mechs the entire south into neo-Machu Picchu, cyberpunk music moulding, reshaping old society into an new age, iron dynasty, fresh coat for an old, ancient look. The coattails of Quetzalcoatl if he were a modern man pull together the merge of future and long passed past..techno temples and the like.
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