mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli

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the gambler's cold system & hot irons.

this honey-coloured kill of an evening wasn't such a terrible prison, as far as amber goes. whiskey the colour of lamp-light would have fixed the star at a better lilt, tilt, hung it off a sigh or similar. or glass upon glass of my murky physick, but alas the spirits of the air could not bring the ingredients needed to my hand. oh inauspicious stars! i will bind you to the mast off this ship, tie you with thread to blow your winds into the mainsail. early i complained about this sandbox of a brain i've had lately. nothing but clutter & collapsed tunnels. i want to just push things apart for some god-damn space. push fucking knives down throats. "no listen! i will show you how to be a sword swallower! stop fucking struggling! stop fucking fighting you sissy! it is okay! fuck you!"

the placid surface of the loch is, of course, one big lie. underneath roils a pod of serpents, beasties of the worst sort. & in the rivers that feed the loch, deep & clear, feeds thick-tailed mokele-membe. oh i'll bring these scaly things to the gates of ile-ife & show the sorcerers there who means bussiness. i'll break a couple fucking hexagrams. right behind the dragons will be the clanking machines, spilling steam into the air, gears chattering like stygians' teeth. so on & so on, right? the onion peel of all my allies. or i don't know. let me empty my dungeons of secret weapons so as i can walk them alone. i'll spin the chambers of this old gun & listen to that dull heel-toe echo i'm pretty sure is just somebody that i used to know. find all the cracked bells that rang along the temple when we first brought war to our home. all the shattered chains that were torn from their moorings by those shuddersome kerubim. the wells we filled with bones, bucket after bucket, & cemented over.

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