These remnants, rotting keepsakes of words and pictures are mnemonically residual. They are scryed, interfaces utilizing misfired sigilings, systems of incomplete quasi-alchemical call-signs and proto-symbologies loosely based upon borrowed (and in some cases stolen) artificially charged devices. When assembled into specific schemas, this soft machinery marks as it contains, and thus constructs the Terminal House.
27.6.12
The Door to Your House
Your moisture,
In a house at dusk,
An occupant,
Skilled in skin,
Pore and saliva,
Bathe in wet salt,
In a slow house,
Anchored to a boat by the sea,
Your loss of self,
A drenched floor,
A perspiring ceiling,
A reluctant door.
In a house at dusk,
An occupant,
Skilled in skin,
Pore and saliva,
Bathe in wet salt,
In a slow house,
Anchored to a boat by the sea,
Your loss of self,
A drenched floor,
A perspiring ceiling,
A reluctant door.
Ritual Without Rite
Ritual without rite,
An empty hole,
Like water covering stone.
Passage without site,
An abandoned desire,
Like blood covering bone.
Power without might,
A broken vow,
Like metal covered by rust.
Vision without sight,
A lost soul,
Like debris covered by dust.
Dreams without night,
A blasted tower,
Like teeth without bite,
A stolen heart,
Like God all alone.
Like your Holy Wars,
Fought without a fight.
An empty hole,
Like water covering stone.
Passage without site,
An abandoned desire,
Like blood covering bone.
Power without might,
A broken vow,
Like metal covered by rust.
Vision without sight,
A lost soul,
Like debris covered by dust.
Dreams without night,
A blasted tower,
Like teeth without bite,
A stolen heart,
Like God all alone.
Like your Holy Wars,
Fought without a fight.
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