germanicspices

to the girl before speech: you are not a prodigy, despite talent for taking care of yourself. understanding politics by grade school isn't worth much being loved is. having your hand gripped when stumbling. playful laugh coaxed from your lungs. bounce as much as you can.   cherish your days of knowing how to land. to the girl with my fingers: they aren't as beautiful as they are lost. shaking; nerves over taken by demons screaming in the night. struggling to tear needle away from skin too crooked to be melodic not articulate enough to move masses hoping to find north; seeking direction. to the girl after healing:

Zim sits on a hill in the inky night, curled into himself with his knees pulled to his chest. No stars gleam down from the sky this night, and Zim tilts his head back to observe the dissatisfied-looking clouds with disinterested claret eyes. The threat of rain no longer bothers him. Nothing does. Not since...he left. Beneath him the freshly turned earth clings to his Invader uniform, which had changed some as he'd injected growth substances into his PAK. Zim's disguise was more humanlike now, and he blended in perfectly despite the fact that his behaviour hadn't changed as all. Because of his lack of noticability, Dib had finally admi