Dealing death at home

Home. That word’s resonated in her head for a long time now, since before she was born. This word, this place, this space, this fluidity of nothing and everything, of warmth in your skin and beneath your eyeballs and underneath your ribcage, right where the blood forgets to go.

Right where she should be breathing, but instead, it’s shallow distraction, and empty.

Instead she is nothing and everything all at once, she is city skylines and hope eternal, she is sun and stars and the rain falling on your back while you think about running into the night, freedom wracking your brain and throat and culture, but still, no where to go. No feet to move, no destination, no warm hands to reach out and hold you.

Home, she thinks, is the ability to run and stay still

To feel trapped and held, anger and forgetful, forgiveness swelling the soul

To forget the words I told you yesterday, did you hear?

It’s also memories entwining into runes on her skin that she hates laughs loves, hoping they’ll leave when she touches her skin in a moldy shower with soap that smells like ass, a shower too small that she remembers as too big, writing carved into her and the generations up back sideways — home,

touches of purple and queer and eyes, watching

bloody knives and stock market crashes

seeds planted and

homelessness, abound

home.

Sipping coffee, brown skin shining warmth in the rain/sun, undercut, manbun, tech hoodie, Seattle calling her name, eyes closing, listening, watching

home

but new and never before

home, but scary and wrong and written in a lanaguage she was supposed to learn, but got scared instead

home, I miss you

have I met you?

I am Death.

she says, eyes turning to see you.

Or a cousin really, like kin fey whispering in your ear while they take your hand into Charon’s boat

Her handshake is warmcold, as you take it, night summer sky with snow on the mountains, her eyes forever deep as you lose yourself yet feel the most grounded calm you have in awhile

Home, she whispers

Have you seen it?

The boat rocks and your breathing steadies, the smell of a restaurant you’ve long forgotten swirling in the warm night air.

geoa

geoa.geer@gmail.com

spirit world things | (photo) | patreon | paypal | discord

i think you’re pretty cool:)

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spirit world with geoa

spirit world with geoa

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fey faerie fairy tale stories brought to you by geoa geer and whoever else is around today