all light gutters like candles. what else could it do with all these dark swarms of knives? the persistant doodle in the margins of my brain. hello, hollow. do all abandonment complexes feel like thrones? or is it a constellation thing? can't serve in heaven, & so... anyhow your star & my star should make a belt sometime. i'll even let you be the red one! or we could be gargoyles, sitting on a ledge & sneering down. which i guess i'll do anyway, without you. to the sound of the bleating goats in the temple, all black. or puppies at the crossroads. i think about the difference between cthonic & olympian sacrafices a lot lately. mostly whenever i'm supposed to be thinking about how i shouldn't be stabbing you in the face. it is my new happy thought! but i havn't been so never-never lately. much more snicker-snack, quite frankly.