mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli
mordicai

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Housefrau.

It is kind of like popping your ears when you are up on an aeroplane ride. You just sort of...clench. & everything you keep out-- like they are pac-man ghosts & you've got the power pill-- rears up. Hello wicked friends, bedsheets painted in firefly guts, bright now but fading. "I know!" When they talk to you it is kind of like a violin bow-- horsehair-- pulled over violin strings-- catgut. But instead of catgut it is the dangling xenosilicates all over my bones, & instead of horsehair it is a cold wind in the ether. A cold wine on the aether, I mean. Something like that anyway. Or anyway. I'm dipping my ladle into this well tonight. You know you can see the stars reflected in the water there. & if you climb on down into it, if you drown in it & sink to the bottom & you look up you can see the stars too. The well is a hole in the ground, & that makes it magic. & they say the chthonic & empyreal aren't two sides of the same coin. Oh, no one says that? Some guys even locked their magical Heaven bull in a labyrinth? Whatever guys, stand in your holes & have people cut the cow & pour blood on you. You guys are crazy with the trauma of birth. Me & Julius Ceasar & that one guy from Macbeth don't have your issues! Also, you know, having an existence-- however fragmentary-- outside the fabrication of blood & memory. The Nobody Nothings.
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