Saturday, March 04, 2006
There is an attempt to banish bitterness, fear, and crooked miles. There is a desire to hide, but an eagerness to exit the cave and make ritual dances in a circle of stones, like a Druid possibly - if I knew anything about Druids aside from their stones, I would be more specific. Possibly Druids did not make dances, possibly they moved slowly in animal hides, forming long processionals with their glowing red Jawa eyes piercing from under the hooded hides. My eye sockets are turning bruised like the purply brown north seas. My lips are thick with unwanted meat implants. It's true that my lips are now made of beef. There is no purpose to anything, except the impulse to move forward with scratches, lines, and truisms in order to avoid hell, which for Atheists, looks much like the hell of Christians, for some reason. It's a hell of fires and blood. Even though Atheists don't believe in hell, there still is a hell.