Wheeling Gull Isle lyotard

he smiled, or was it more of a grimace?

he should not have festered this selfishness with healing others. it had gone on too long and now he paid the price all over again.

blessed are we. his voice smaller than he would have liked. dwarfed by the newfound life before him in the woman-beast. eyes burning hot with his shame and his emotional wanting.

where will you go? what will you do now that you have risen?

clinging, desperate. he only wished for it to be returned.