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mordicai caeli

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December 8th, 2004

(no subject) [Dec. 8th, 2004|10:10 am]
mordicai caeli
[Current Mood |he lives, of course.]
[Current Music |crown me king- first citizen adam frankenstein.]

listen to me o hollow earth! egg nog is some severe & rough shit! drinking a mixture of barely cooked eggs & heavy cream can set a creature's teeth on edge; & verily, it did me. the space-tramps known as moran & macey did indeed come into our supremely exellent lair, in order to view our ritual trappings, set up according to custom. the yule tree, girded with strands of light, balls of red & green, shimmering tinsel, & miscellanious other ornamentations (including 5 hidden angels, representing the five heralds of death). so too was our bookshelves & windows limned in with multifaceted lights, glimmering like a pirate's treasure horde. adjacent to the television is the fiber-optics tree, whose very branches scintillate & morph from shade to shade. beyond this there are the scattered wooden soldier nutcrackers- the gingerbread house is, however, yet to be constructed. & so into our home came these two wanderers of the stars, these to interstellar hobos. we gave them pumpkin pie & egg nog, & how did they repay us?! with insolent talk of horrific rice-crispy square, so large, so rotten on the insides. o mark us, we willl have our vegence! & it will not be swift. o yes, i will be having a naughty christmas.
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the king of hand grenades & i sat down to tea this afternoon... [Dec. 8th, 2004|06:43 pm]
mordicai caeli
[Current Mood |embrace the end of days.]
[Current Music |crown me king- colonial lobster (binewski remix)]

gosh darn! spiderweb'ed brains today, you know, tumor-like ververs scarring up in the grey matter. oh let me tell you about all the cunning ways torture can be worked into the shadowplay that accompanies my day to day affairs. that silhoutte cast by every day life, that vivid world of imagination & espirit d'esclaire. or more like espirit d'straightrazor. but things have been swell, here afloat this sea of blood. the tempest that rages at the ocean's heart is me; i am no whirlpool, but a column that rises to the sky, babel-like, defying god with more flair than babylon. come unto me you blasphemers & haters, come to where you babelong. oh lucky day it was when i came unto this world, full of darkness & steel. when i distilled hellfire into philosophik brimstone. come phoenix & burn this world free of impurities!
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