The Journal of Atlas Akar

[Schizm]

In the secret back room of his castle-based clubhouse, the revolutionary Atlas Akar's leather-bound diary sits in a locked drawer. Rarely used and rarely seen, the old tome is filled with unorganized incoherent ramblings and dreadful poetry.

To have or to hold?

So many of these things I do not want;
The powers I hold, a liaison of lies.
The places I reside- a mendacity of sorts.
But if not for me, who would even try?

They're all filled with expectation,
Yet I'm temporary at best.
I do not deserve the reverence I receive,
but who else can give them something to beleive?

An acropolis of falsehoods,
all of my words laced with snake-oil.
If the whole foundation is faulty?
Why so does she toil?

Maybe I should bring it all to term?
Cut ties and cloak my face?
Lose all the friends that I've attained?
Maybe we'd all be better off that way?

The weights we bear

Am I corrupted by these thoughts?
Unclean from these machinations?
The desperate human part of us,
that pleads for sensation?

My head splits at the seams before I lay it down to rest.
The old thoughts of you still echo, the pain lingers in my chest.
I've been locked down by my choices,
and with my decisions I've been blessed.

You never realize you're in the pit until its far too late-
That you can't stand up until you're covered by the weights.
You can flail against their boundless pull,
but some things are destined to be fate.

Maybe things will change- or maybe I'm deranged?
The lust for what cannot be had drives us all in spades.
Will we take what we want?
Or has that impetus just came at a moment too late?

[Schizm]

With his old journal being left behind for the guards to ponder should they find his secret room, the cosmic mage Atlas Akar has embraced his imprisonment to some degree- starting a new journal within the confines of Achyon.

Forgotten

They ignored my calls for help
to prop up a mans remains.
Left me to my fate
while they sang sweet refrains.

Is this finality?
Am I destined to be no more than a guinea pig?
The turned up noses of royalty;
and their gods disregarding my suffering?

I have so little power to change it,
collared, circuits power cut.
When it finally flows back into me,
I will crush their hopes to bits of dust.

For forsaking their own;
they've lost a body, mind, and soul.
For their disinterest in my wellbeing;
they'll lose their lives, limbs, and homes.

It's really only fair, isn't it?
You gave me no choice but to change.
Of all my hopes left in the world?
It's that nothing will remain.

[Schizm]

Birthday Chains

          On the farm I grew up we have a peculiar tradition. On the day of one of our relatives birth, we'll have a feast in honor of the life we have lived and toast to many more. When you're young it's something incredibly special to you- a time of jubilation. But as the years wear on and on it slowly becomes a simple commonplace. Extra work to put the food together, extra hours spent toiling to cover the cost of a new pair of boots. As I enter my twenty second year in Essahar, I can't help but miss the simpler times. I have not celebrated my birthday since I left that god-forsaken farm- and frankly I never gave it any thought. Yet now, with so much time to reminisce, I find myself looking back and missing those days I once resented so. How did I end up since such a pickle? I'm sure my family has heard the news- or maybe they havent? The Osronan government seems to care not of my plight. The chains that shackle me to Achyon grow ever stronger, not only on my body but in my heart of hearts. They treat their citizens as equals. They've executed less Osronans than Osrona have. And although I have seen tenacious cruelty, I've also seen an unparalleled comradery unmatched by any nation on our soil. I don't think I will see lemon cakes this year of my life, but freedom may be on the cards? I grow wearier with every coming day, and I can only hope for a great kindness from the councilman that rule within Achyon's borders.

Do not weep for me dear friends-

Though I know that you don't anyway.

Gave up on me for simpler things.

Pushed the guilt and pain away.

This year on the day of my birth,

I spend it shackled to iron bars.

Every connection outside cut with impunity;

even my soiree with the stars.

More alone than the ascetic monk,

more distant than Britannia beyond the sea.

More desperate than the lot of you,

ignoring my cries and scream.

You chose to live your lives your way?

I will do the same with mine.

But if our hand reaches in your direction?

If there ever comes a time?

I pray you move out of the way.

[Schizm]

Gone Fishing

Caught a fish on land today;

I fried her good, no batter needed.

Burned her face with starfire blasts.

Dozens watched her bleeding.


Didn't need my fishing pole either,
gave that old thing to Alexei.
It wasn't the greatest present in hindsight,
but I forgot the expectation of giving a gift at weddings.


Is eating a Sirenian considered cannibalism?
A question as old as time.
Maybe I'll ask one of the Reaves,
they seem to know a thing or two about crimes.

After the fight I just find it crazy,
its actually kind of funny.
The only thing I felt after all that battle;

Was being really hungry.