mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli

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the acordian player stars up & we begin to run up the stairs...

of course it is the sound of scissors! sir i would be ashamed if you were to come into my shop to be serenaded by anything else. indeed we are purveyors of fine goods, & we would happily court your patronage. i have no clever bark or cant, we are not gypsies or fishmongers. my daughters will not pull up their skirts to show you their knees to entice you to stay. but ah! a sword here that drools sparks! & a boy in a glass bottle with a tail-- still twitching? no? you are a more discerning eye! we have a woman here who can tell you the name of your own personal god? a piece of glass that can filter out, with x-ray precision, cut out the glamours woven about ambulances, showing the hideous truth? no, no, you aren't a customer for such baubles! which is why i've brought you here at last to the abattoir, yes? your sort is always after the more...mwa...the most sly of vintages. we'll fill you with fish hooks & apotheosis, break your head & break your thorns. you've come to just the right day, milo. darla. here comes a candle to light you bed. but oh dear sir there will be no boon or return to your people. we've already taken care of the middle world. you can stay here in our hospital forever. you can take showers & people you hate will crawl into them with you. they can melt their fingers into your body & play with your secret places. we've long ago cast down the scales of the feather, but we'll take out your heart just to be sure, don't you think? here in his father's house there are many rooms & they are all empty, like your valentine's day. always the trim white clothed shopkeepers!

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