"I am Gandalf, Gandalf the White, but Black is mightier still."
bones & skull, rattle! rattle in your fucking cage. on your death march to the gulag. wind & ash, howl! howl across this barren plain. on your way towards the rushing fire. this hollow world of stone & candy, broken bones & platinum filigree. wired together, a strange satellite, hurling though the vastness of space, hurled desperatly jovian-ward, a terribe junkyard post-human. a jurry-rigged creature breathing dust & drinking only blood (to fuel the wallachia engine). flug, as thrown aside, cast down. screaming as it goes. this is my life, strung together out of half-remembered gnosis & personal mythology. pieces hewn from memory & circumstance, imagination & psychoses. chucked right the fuck at jupiter. i'm coming to fight the dweller on the threshold. there might be some kind of explosion, there will probably be blood. from the nuclear core breach, the shattering of the wallachia engine. this cobbled together life will be driven into the red eye & i will pluck it out.