mordicai caeli (mordicai) wrote,
mordicai caeli
mordicai

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all these worlds are yours except europa.

moth wings printed with eyes, peacock dappled shadows- everything is so argus today. but me i dress up in black (you know, when you grope for luna); if i was a fine lady you best believe that constuction workers would be whistling. instead i am a handsome gentleman with a book of vedas under my arm. of course, once i'm under the sun i will bake like a potato, but that is the sacrafice for being a pretentious fashionplate villian. plus, for breakfast i had lemon squares.
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