.:XXI:. One smile and I am ready to die...
[Private to Self]
It is flooding. All dungeons are flooded, all rooms and gobelins and golden carpets- moth-eaten and gone. Rising from beneath, asphyxiating.
Fragments of [her lips and teeth and hands, and eyes, those eyes--]: I raided a colony of morphos yesterday. Smeared them across the oaken barks. I was Der Schmetterlingsjäger. Hahaha. I couldn't stand their beauty- just listen, they were fluttering around me, perching on my shoulders.
They all want me to drown. To never resurface again from the depths of familiar clutches, embraces, and all those words. No sound emitted, just gurgling, and letters formed around the cadaver of morphos. Sorry sorry sorry, shut up. (She doesn't understand there is no way back.) Filthy weaklings. (Where're your thunders now?)
Cheers to your memory, I will go fuck now.
[/Private to Self]
[added thirteen minutes after]
[Privato a Ciarán]
The gothic spires of Arcadia are especially haunting today, Ciarán. Spiraling along with them, you could fly away in a thought experiment with black ravens croaking along. If I erected a monument in your honour, it would be made of ebony and silver carvings and silken draperies around. I was thinking, the other day: what nonsense. Non-sense. You must disappear into your nothingness again... (making me weak, why don't you) I want to tell you the story of my fall, but you know every bit of it, and I appear before you- stark nude, all caravaggio lighting and whatnot. I cannot feel my fingers, they are peeling off.
I'm vanishing from here.
[/Privato a Ciarán]
[Private to Millicent]
I'm leaving the mansion. Make sure you don't look for me in the wilderness, perhaps in Novosibirsk. Or Hokkaido, how about that? Have you ever been there? Find me there if you miss me too much.
[/Private to MIllicent]
It is flooding. All dungeons are flooded, all rooms and gobelins and golden carpets- moth-eaten and gone. Rising from beneath, asphyxiating.
Fragments of [her lips and teeth and hands, and eyes, those eyes--]: I raided a colony of morphos yesterday. Smeared them across the oaken barks. I was Der Schmetterlingsjäger. Hahaha. I couldn't stand their beauty- just listen, they were fluttering around me, perching on my shoulders.
They all want me to drown. To never resurface again from the depths of familiar clutches, embraces, and all those words. No sound emitted, just gurgling, and letters formed around the cadaver of morphos. Sorry sorry sorry, shut up. (She doesn't understand there is no way back.) Filthy weaklings. (Where're your thunders now?)
Cheers to your memory, I will go fuck now.
[/Private to Self]
[added thirteen minutes after]
[Privato a Ciarán]
The gothic spires of Arcadia are especially haunting today, Ciarán. Spiraling along with them, you could fly away in a thought experiment with black ravens croaking along. If I erected a monument in your honour, it would be made of ebony and silver carvings and silken draperies around. I was thinking, the other day: what nonsense. Non-sense. You must disappear into your nothingness again... (making me weak, why don't you) I want to tell you the story of my fall, but you know every bit of it, and I appear before you- stark nude, all caravaggio lighting and whatnot. I cannot feel my fingers, they are peeling off.
I'm vanishing from here.
[/Privato a Ciarán]
[Private to Millicent]
I'm leaving the mansion. Make sure you don't look for me in the wilderness, perhaps in Novosibirsk. Or Hokkaido, how about that? Have you ever been there? Find me there if you miss me too much.
[/Private to MIllicent]