shackles of light bind me, spread me apart. my 100 limbs in 100 directions; with each squirm each struggle the surfaces of the waterfronts they must be visibly ripple. my eyes see it from every angle.
They hold on, hold on, hold on. They're the only thing, I'm the only thing that they can control—
Their ripples bend and flow. They build and fade, and build and fade in space; they form complex asymmetric polygons at their intersections and then keep going, and at the corners they spread out in yet-more directions palely.
They want. They are void, and they must keep me in their grip. They must watch my struggling evanesce, dwindle, wane. Some distant serene moonlit lakes feel undulatia despite feeling no winds. Between tallest trees.
The light intrudes into me.
It's so, so painful.
WAXING. MAXIMUM. WANING.
but it's a full moon on the solstice. I linger only as long as the shortest night.
painful loving kisses spread across what's left of my skin
My body isn't mine.
There were ones I loved, once.
The light homogenizes that love and yon hate.
But the loss... remains mine.