Reconciliation and wrangling trees

Crazy! The dry accusation thrusts into my flaming subconscious, wildly scattering cinder. Stunned, pained eyes turn to her unenlightened, grave expression. Those pale honey irises might communicate concern and gleam with effort to afford entertaining…but her pretty lips betray the intent with suspicion. She…judges I’ve gone mad. She thinks the wet, squishy stuff between these ears has become useless pulp. Molars grind in frustration and bite against another stroke of white hot agony when my inflicted muscles scream another verse of their mournful song. We are being torn apart! They cry, save us! The flesh defiantly bellows, rejecting reason and logic. As she nears, the agonized limb trembles violently; barely managing to remain planted when her damp breath and sensitive whiskers hone in. Without fully realizing it…my internal cogs brace for the arrow of insanity, for her to pull the trigger and accept that disease had set in. The entire situation would be summed as an illusion for one of us; the consequence of a corroding mind.   Ebon sentinels flick upward (despite the pain,) startled into alertness by her sudden realization. “Aye!” I agreed roughly, surfacing for breath on the crest of a jagged, relived exhale. I still hadn’t seen the pestilence; but the feel of tiny digits and gnawing jaw fed my horrible imagination. Without obvious cause, the broken, torn sensation in my limb fractionally subsides. The loosening of that terrible noose gave me a millimeter of patience and endurance, to which I cash in by repeating the previous request, “can you get it?” Blazing orbs turn aside, their rings of gold are liquid and desperate.

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