mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli

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the whir of the corvid moon.

i keep meaning to add "no more tommorows" to my to-do list. i mean, i wake up some mornings & i am born out of the colour of hate. i surface up from some dream (i was going down on jenny as she sat on the night-stand i had next to my bed growing up, while meanwhile strange scraping sounds came from the hydroponics tank in my closet) & into the wake. into the long funeral where everyone moves like halloween ghosts, draped in sheets. i suppose that is the romance for some; the crawl of entropy lends beauty to the fragile? but all i can see is a lie that can't stand up to scrutiny. all i see is erosion; your face was once a blank wall but cataracts & hurricanes have worn holes to call your eyes, your mouth. & all you see is an echo of me; what once was black is now a stain. distance & deciet have hidden my crown from you.

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