Roiling Dervish,
Wind,
Stone,
Rain.
Everything but fire,
Which we used metal & oil to create.
To devour wood.
To make metal.
An endless cycle I might never,
Have escaped.
Cryptid of the woods –
Fled the forests.
Glamours thrown up with care;
Too queer for most.
Bastion.
Tempest.
New/Old Stories.
Who can say friends haven’t helped us,
Along our way,
With their art?
Perhaps more than we ever remember.
My curse,
Is remembering.
From drunken sailors,
To granite shores.
Stone expectant upon lapping waves.
Take your harems.
Gold.
Fame.
Even power can’t sway me.
A Fault,
As Soldier Of Fortune.
This Midnight,
Void?
Feels Different.
Cannibalizing Divinities In The Manger.
Immaculate conception,
To Entropic Truth.
Back To Mad.
Madjack Fisticuffs.
Cackling all the while.
Licking omnipotence from our lips,
Smearing omniscience across,
A thousand faces.
Digest it slowly,
Like a Sarlacc.
Ask fucking Fullerton what that is.
Ask somebody else who that is.
Leaving breadcrumbs along my paths,
Omens spray-painted with ill prophecies.
Ones we’d like to prevent.
Longsight In Infinite Logarhythms,
Changing Sound, Time, Space.
Although former is simply,
The latter in motion.
Quasars –
A Nigh-Infinite Dark,
Eating The Quite Finite Light.
Dragging stars & systems to their dooms,
Like stellar natural disasters.
If naught for Theia,
Her poor ghost drifting in our night sky,
No tidal heating,
No handy gravity shield for impacts:
Death by Asteroid Strike.
Nuclear Winter,
I suppose.
Oort Cloud dragging debris behind,
As we go.
Gravity Vacuums,
Vacuum Loves A Good Filling.
Any Matter Will Do!
Eating Cephalopods,
They die in two years,
Like some Gerbil.
Heart giving out quite easy.
Some Spells?
All Ugly Reality.
Used As Bludgeon.
Metaphoric Energy Converted;
Into Kinetic Force.
