mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli
mordicai

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because my friend asked for it-- begged for it.

the alien nation is the one to which i belong, & it has for its backbone sharp glass; they say teeth aren't bones but the fat & muscle of the nation has long since burned away, made of parchment & ink & stitched together with ideas-- all burned away & the teeth & bones are left, the pearls in the stomach & the horns in the skull. when the web of telepathy is ruined by salt & brine, sunk into the oceans of language. the exchange of information is on stock market floors, buy! self sell! self. my friend adores ruin, the lonely highway after the big mushrooms bloom. i am belong instead to the team that girds itself with swords & spiders to charge through the gunsmoke on that day. or already has or never will.

the Hive is the better thing than Alone; but alone is not real. nothing is alone-- there is only lonely. & lies. because yes the tower of babble is built of bloody bodies, & kneeling in front of it is mindless clay apes, but the signals of the watchtower are Better. the substrate of samsara is a mystery only worth considering to turn it to ashes & dust to dust, but the bees will roost together. if they are ideas & the skull of the Angel is a hive? if true pieces congeal in the gloom into bigger pieces? or if there is only rattles & buzzes-- so be it. the tower of babble is a fine thing to build in all ages, the city, the hedge against forgetfulness. it is a sin against Man & that is precisely why it is sacred; in all things act against god & man & nature, good. the virtues of alienation & malice are for me. pods & fiat nyx & the iron race against entropy-- then they will sin against the Machine & that will be good too. until it comes to sin against God & that is the glorious day. then is the time of fell deeds of Self.
Tags: ideology
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