lilimist vs. dunsany

Sweeter poisons are my curiosity, but such fixes are not to be taken lightly
Each unit contains a crescendo
of the last efforts of a thousand echoes
and Gods dwell herein.

These great masters of disintegration--so delightfully ominous--scooped this madness out of thin air.
Their handprints smeared hieroglyphic signatures
in sympathy
and peeled off the yellow lights on all the warning labels.

She once said to me:
"Zeile drei, zeile drei.
It seems to be the death of function
more than fragments on distant shores."
To which I could only reply:
"Surely such slivers of darkness
must always be embraced."

...Lepus. Orion. Canus Major. Monocerus...

Once, a red-flamed soul stood up out of the fireplace
In distant corners old chairs were Tories of the darkness
There a single Prime Minister revealed such cavernous mouths rasping his kin that no early Victorian furniture arose to defend my own shadow over him
I was labelled the Empire's enemy
but no more than bloodhounds came into my throat
to speak over the experiment

Instead I moved towards the assiduous ancient spiders, but the wraithlings collided, meeting in delirium,
and black talons stark against one hand prodded at the loathsome furry head of their large fearful beast,
to imbibe its flesh with electricity.
Beneath the old whispering cedars, where the brute had seen the shadows spill out ghosts to silence, indigo in their dust,
it reached for my heart of betrayal, red-ringed pupils glaring at its palm.
These creatures larger than an echo went right into it.

Now I have come upon the gateway,
I slink lizard-like down the worm
and oh! How eternally alien
these green wires and moulds.
I have piqued my own shadow of salvation,
the next sequence of my own devices--
Partially disassembled robots
are my life-force sucked away--
Their light flickers into the recent remake
Heartbeats in the centuries will soon be hurried
A circle like a violation, a wide isolation, fading
The North wind is common, and the doorway something new

QED, QED, the sliver of another's sin
every scar she lays beside me now
on the deathbed of mankind's
wilder mythologies
Her memories are my beacon, how demure she finds them,
and she tells me: "I can come upon his fingertips
and at large
any time"
An amber glow
I take the cord that burns its balance
The chant swirls around my body
White flesh and strong tea might act as a feather--
To hell with all the labels
and alas for my own
randomly accessed memories.

And so I lower myself
into the shells
of perfumed steam.

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made by Vixen Phillips | foxtail @ protonmail . com | @subtransience@tiny.tilde.website | @foxtailrainbow