July 26th, 2004

Cthulhu Joyce


I lap at it with a Draconian tongue - the purvayor of half-lies and denigrating truths. "You don't have to listen" I told it. It scoffs at the blatant caring I show. I, the piecemeal man.

It's disgust apparent, it seizes the runes - esoteric only to new born eyes - and gulps them down mightily. It's vigor reduced I devour myself.

There is glee somewhere to be heard,
it brims a silver chalice - guardian of the morning's production. I take him in and add him to myself frugally and carefully. It dissolves in effervescent light.

On the breeze, a cool wind brings the beginnings of the fortitude of draconic lore.

This will not perish as easily as the piecemeal man
in the maw of mediocrity.
  • Current Music
    Droning of A/C, and the assurance of a pleasant work day.
Cthulhu Joyce


A crowd, any crowd for that matter -
the matter that I will interpret -
glows under the radiance of a darkening pallor.

If the sky blinks, I am the only one that can speak of it. Standing stones shake, the tremors of the spoken word are too much for it to walk away. Vocalic expression from the easiest bodies is all the more onerous to resist.

"J. can go because he says it is so." There is no argument, silence is filibuster of the afternoon - an unexpected Valhalla

I take the meat in one big hand and shower the week in blood.
Blood takes the tide and gravitates it toward the moon:
it is faster than you can see,
but I can absorb it through my painting words
and wear a whitening collar untarnished
by the blinking sky.

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  • Current Music
    Compliments from the unexpected Valhalla