Rattle-brained, faculties drained (or perhaps reduced to their bitter, essential elements), focused very intently on the thousand-yard mark: the leaves looked like the scales of a revenant Leviathan - dragged back with a tiny fishhook for a few panicked, groaning seconds before both atmospheric pressure and tremendous disbelief took hold and it burst with a sound unlike those of this world into a falsely ruinous shower of deciduous entrails and crackled ochre skin.
One wonders if we are ever to become pneuma, if we are to be privy to some secret knowledge, a word perhaps. Or if there is any secret knowledge at all.
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Showing posts with label head cold. Show all posts
Showing posts with label head cold. Show all posts
Monday, November 30, 2009
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