ignore us, please, he’s not myself today and neither are they but are they ever? who can say? not i, not i says the cat from the bottom of the lake. he hides there, when the moon is full of shadows and secrets and why don’t we join him? we two, with nothing better to do but stand here and watch the dripping of the cherub’s wings, falling softly on the snow and staining it white.
we are not we and we are not they and why would we why should we how could we, indeed? it cannot be done beneath this purple son and that is why we flee with the cat and his minions and the mice after them, falling through space and crying aloud into the audient void, heedless of the music of the idiot flute players as they herald our approach. the chaotic god he sits and waits with infinite impatience while we dance and twirl in the absence of space and the clustering claustrophobia of the endlessly empty aether. we swim it through, hoping to find ourselves or something resembling to take back with us where? home? home is nowhere, home is now here, home is naught so why bother? why indeed. the insects crawl in crystalline beauty across the face of the shattered clock, crumpled hands desperately inching along to the ticking in their heads, trying to maintain order in this madness and happily failing.
i too am happily failing and who better than i? this is my legacy, this failure, and in it’s embrace i am full and loved and whole and i fill it within myself. the colors respond to their flavors with distaste but i savor the rancor, obsessed with the bitter fruit of my downfall and who better to share it with than you, my temporary soul mate, my momentary friend? you will not last, tho i will of course for this is my world in which i am merely a guest and so what then, are you? a trespasser, an intruder, a nonexistant entity whom i must immediately expel. and with no more than that you are gone and no more and so to whom am i speaking? the others, the infinite masses parading through this world of theirs in which i happily trespass, joyfully invade and in ecstasy malign. you shall not conquer here, nevermind that the battle is over and won and the loser hangs from the throne while the winner swings from the cross. i stand here with the hangman’s noose awaiting my newest companion… come hither and allow me to christen you my lover, my friend, my eternal mate! with this rope i thee wed and i place it around your graceful neck as future insurance of that inevitable day when i no longer hate you. come to me and feel my loathing and i will shower you with refuse and call you my own.
and the idiot flute players play on into the abyss…
illogical labyrinths 