dreamt last night of being fed royal jelly, that enobling elixer. sealing myself into a hexagonal chamber & metamorping into something distinctly other, but still myself. the creak & groan of my skeleton echoed throughout the canyon as i grew, & nights were haunted by my wails & the gnashing of my teeth. when i was reborn, there was a total eclipse of the sun. the vanity of the sovreign creature i had become knew no bounds.
lately i've been on my knees in the bathtub like a pentitant.
the cadances of the invaders stitched through the atmosphere of the rookery. the low throbbing melody disturbed the bats, who stirred in their slumber waiting for night, when they would be released in waves to diseminate the disease. it was low-grade germ warfare, by the standards of later, more "advanced" civilizations. still, though, finding a resevouir population containing a disease that would infect (& even, eventually, kill!) the off-world menace was quite a coup for the pestilance lords.
last night nine, christopher, & yours truly went to go see dodgeball: &c.
so i guess jenny is going out of town this weekend. i'm glad i read her livejournal, so i knew. otherwise i suppose i'd just get home from work on saturday wondering when she was going to get home. oh boy oh boy this part of a relationship sure is fun. sunday i don't have dungeons & dragons, since everybody is going to the gay pride parade. maybe i'll find something intresting to do? but times have shown that i'm far more likely to stay at home by myself. at least i'll have movies to watch, this time, instead of just sitting through syndicated re-runs of seinfeld.
oh, faithful hatred. i'll never let your inner machinary grow rusty. i'll keep your blades keen as a monomolecular razor, slippery to an angel what dare try to dance on you. oh yes yes yes, my little aum. you are the clock-work skeleton on which this serial killer's gown hangs, the inner arches of my heart's cathedral. your fangs are it's steeple & your skittering legs are its pews. you are the brimstone in my gunpowder! the whirly-gig in my revolver. oh hatred, my altar to myself. sincerely- mordicai, mahdi.