All copywritten characters are the sole properties of their respective owners, no infringement is intended; no money is being made. "Wave of Mutilation" belongs to the Pixies. I am merely a fan. Written for an "Existentialism" prompt.
Cease to resist, given my good-byes
Drive my car into the ocean
You'll think I'm dead but I sail away
On a wave of mutilation
A wave, wave…
Life ebbed and flowed as Kikyou drew her knees up and tucked herself into a comfortable ball. Snores came in and out of her like the tides and Naraku, leaning against the dark wall, thought nothing but black, drifting oblivion. Pin-points of red fire swirled in his half-lidded bedroom eyes. It was easy for her, she could sleep. She was already dead and wanted to remain so. There was no time like the present for the zombie miko – the present was nothing but one watery wave of now… and now… even the rough use of her body was assimilated into her long single-frame life. But the kumo hanyou wanted more out of his newly minted life… he wanted more than waves of unceasing time, untouched by others…
Even if that meant those other burned and screamed. He wanted everything in one large tide, not an unending flow of a singular, poorly-lived past…
I've kissed mermaids, rode the El Nino
Walked the sands with the crustaceans
Could find my way to Mariana…
On a wave of mutilation
Wave of mutilation
Wave of mutilation
Wave…wave…
Kikyou let her eyes flutter open half-way in the watery grey nighttime. She had drifted over the ground now for ages of now, then, whenever. It was all the same – there was always somewhere to go, someone to hate, someone to love and something to do. It made her tired, this living in the ever-present now, like some slow echoing heart beat, tumbled in drifting surf until she finally found a beach; an end. Naraku was just an excuse. The dark man who was not a man leaned his pale naked form against the wall and traveled the waves of benthic dark thought, planning to try to escape, to twist the world by damning the circumpolar currents of fate with his own hybrid hands… Kikyou blew out her bangs slowly. She knew it would never work. They were two pieces of the same flotsam drifting on the waves… waves of mutilation… waves…