(no subject)
I have not the want nor the wont nor the need for my current supply of blood. I got angry at my veins today. They foster a weak form of life. Crude in their intake and consistency. The humour in the whole situation is because of my pathetic oil, I cannot muster up the energy required to do something about it. A transplant would be great. A full body transplant. The Logos had successfully avoided my presence for quite a while there--as far as Eternity can call quite a while--until the departure of my beloved. Don is laughing, I know it. Whether is because he derives a sadistic pleasure or he is in ecstacy at the loss of my muse, I do not know. PROSE, ANSWERS, LUST, POETRY, DESIRE, and DEATH. They haunt, ever-present. How you say? The leaves, the wind, water in an alley...they are all mocking me. The Logos works in increments of passion. I have become an animal of desire. So, so carnal and yet as inactive and innocent as a child.
I watched a bird lose its last breath today. I went for a walk at some time around three a.m. to relieve the stress of household oxygen. I found myself somewhere around the Orestimba campus and heard a slight moaning sound. I found a dying bird in the middle of the street. Some other predatory animal (most likely his mate) had ripped its chest apart. I watched it die. O' my brothers, I swear to you that I saw its last breath leave in colour and chaos. I buried him set up a circular pattern of stones to surround and remind. I wish I had a camera.
Such beauty in such a meek thing as death. Damn the Logos for its creativity. Punishment.
I part.
And Katherine, someone is watching, always. Be it friendly or malevolent. Make your peace with the Logos while you are aware of it.
I watched a bird lose its last breath today. I went for a walk at some time around three a.m. to relieve the stress of household oxygen. I found myself somewhere around the Orestimba campus and heard a slight moaning sound. I found a dying bird in the middle of the street. Some other predatory animal (most likely his mate) had ripped its chest apart. I watched it die. O' my brothers, I swear to you that I saw its last breath leave in colour and chaos. I buried him set up a circular pattern of stones to surround and remind. I wish I had a camera.
Such beauty in such a meek thing as death. Damn the Logos for its creativity. Punishment.
I part.
And Katherine, someone is watching, always. Be it friendly or malevolent. Make your peace with the Logos while you are aware of it.