mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli

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Brain heavy in my belly today, black soupy strands tangled up with each other, neurons sparking with the smell of burnt ozone. We're out in word salad today; at a body past the Tolman–Oppenheimer–Volkoff limit, & we're inside of it, right on the wrong side of the Schwarzschild radius. Deep Forgiveness is the name of the object; or at least what we've been calling it & frankly there isn't likely to be another sentient observer of it on this side of the Crunch. We're back of beyond, other side of the black stump, following the long lazy Songlines laid down by the First Tribe of Spacehulks. While we sleep here in the magnetic bottle of an embryonic black hole, you can hear the violin music & waltzing of the Others taking the stage. Like butlers they had scurried out only do do our bidding, & now like maids they take the stage while we slumber. Though I never fall too far asleep. Peeking through the keyhole, burning holes in the back of my eye. Guts thick with thoughts, abstractions fish-like, wriggling from puddle to puddle. Trying to grow lungs, laboring heavy in the mud of my body.

All the possible yesterdays condense on the portholes, the windows out to the meaningless jumble of lights. Drawing in the dew of might-have beens, doodling signs & sigils. Random as the numbers we followed to get here, beacons left by the fat, dumb whales of the Grinning Gap. In my head I ascribe meaning to the peaks & whorls; this ugly splotch of solar storm touches this finger-smudged line, & that has meaning of one kind of another. It means that trees are Turing machines, it means that forests have it in for you, oak hearts black with sap stains. Over here is a oval of black, a star spot; paisley curls from finger prints make it portentous; it is the Eye which represents the NewGod, daughter of WorldGod, enemy of OldGod. They will devour each other. Bored, a flat hand wipes it all away; void restoring truth to the illusion of significance. Then another puts out the starlight like a candle. Puff. All is darkness & iron. My brothers still asleep, never stirring.

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