A Bright Tapestry in the Wicked Depths

  • Posted on 27th March 2016,
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A Bright Tapestry in the Wicked Depths

Down there, pressure is a bombastic creator. This deep black well is lit with the spray of biophotons. Your periphery is a dim void out of which anything can spring. Snakes of coal, who tempt with spheres of light. Unnatural bodies wrapped around bent spines.… Read More

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Are You Ripe?

  • Posted on 15th March 2016,
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Are You Ripe?

‘I will bury myself in my own imagination and let myself rot, eaten by all the thoughts I once ate. Until only an almost-nothing remains, an infra-thing that whispers between words and speaks to You!’
-L’aura di CristalloRead More

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Black Butter

  • Posted on 3rd March 2016,
  • written by
Black Butter

Morpheus hovers in the black bog sky. Everything has been crisped by otherworldly lightning. Starry buffalo churn the black-butter clouds. Morpheus’ sooty will works itself outward from spindly fingertips. The door vibrates. Disembodied faces bathe their words in tar. The saddle we put on our day comes off like a loose swimsuit in this bizarre Dalinian night.… Read More

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On/Off/1,0,0,1

  • Posted on 26th February 2016,
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On/Off/1,0,0,1

Our smiles are flashes of barbed wire. Our scrappy wills flex boneyard muscles. But still, we are not strong or charming enough to make it happen. Angry and impatient, we slap eviction notices on the domicile of Impurity. Out carbon goes, penniless.… Read More

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Cellular Family Portrait

  • Posted on 18th February 2016,
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Cellular Family Portrait

Do our cells take family portraits? Yes. Do they comb their cilia out into gelatinous manes? They do. The photographs go up on cellular walls. When are the shots taken? Whenever there is a flash, a burst of white. When do these opportune moments come?… Read More

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Death Talk at Moonsugar Gate

  • Posted on 11th February 2016,
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Zebulun’s comet flashes like a derailed pendulum. A hot stone mad with joules.

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The vast temple in the void. A slow tomb full of elegant regret. The portal is always open, is always closed. The whistle of space being compressed. We believe danger dances most truthfully when death closes its eyes before throwing the dart.… Read More

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