Strut on your perch.
Fluff.
Your eyes betray you, though.
That blood of yours...
It sings a song of falcons.
And that wicked hawk's tongue...
Oh, how crimson is the stain left by the blood,
Of the dove.
Thursday, December 28, 2006
The Geometry of Desire
Gorgeous, pale cockatoo, preening her electrons nice and shiny.
The Haughty Grace of Madness...
There was a sound, just then. Did you hear it?
There.
That...rustling noise behind us.
There it is again. You HAVE to hear it now...that slow, slithering noise, like an avalanche of time-stained paper rolling from the desk of some ancient author.
Is it...time? The slow, steady murmur of fading heartbeats?
Or is it something calling from the other side of sleep, the cold madness of the crow?
I think I felt a feather brush my face just then...
Tuesday, December 26, 2006
Luxury's Lap
Antithesis engines burn through the permanent digital midnight.
Lifting these heavy dreams to the spare, clean heavens is the work
of black witchery.
Frozen, hot, blue smoke formed and bent according to the dictates of the will.
I imagine, you think, endless cloudscapes lit with the flickering kiss of peppermint lightning.
You think right.
Midnight Reflections...
Where the daylight should never light the way, find your way by other means.
There are whispers and sighs to guide you.
Open your ears to the night, and let the moonlight filter through your skin tripping the blue fuse in your brain.
The moveable feast has arrived for a midnight snack.
Dystopia Lies Dreaming...
There are caramel-candy-coated lollipop vistas that ooze sweetness and light.
Their saccharine cargo rots the fangs.
But.
Places like THIS, where the night breezes rustle constantly, and offer sanctuary from the overhyped mundanity of useless utopian schemes, are treasures beyond compare.
Ahhh....Suffugium, and Devil's Moon, let the night breathe!
Thursday, December 21, 2006
The Gravity of Sleep
What dark art pulls my head toward the pillow, while my heart still pumps thundering blood?
Where will the maps of midnight lead me, or will there be only the constant hiss of static, the sibilance of a digital dream?
With every tick of the clock, another heartbeat lost...another moment flickering away.
Each lonely tap echoes with flat finality, while electric mists gather on the lonely moonlit metaverse.
A chill makes its way through the bundled layers of the traveller's cloak and his pace is quickened as the fog begins to rise.
And unseen, she watches, smiling at a rustling in the hedgerow..
Digital Kundalini
There is a sweet poison on my lips, a breathless ache in my chest.
A luxurious illusion floats tantalizingly near, yet at an infinite distance.
An illusion of life, which ripples along dendrites and axons until it stirs
That snake at the base of the spine
And slithers...with quiet, velvety whisperings through my blood.
In a world which offers us this much forbidden fruit, is it madness or virtue for us to take only bread and water?
A little of both, perhaps...
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