The day grows old and the gray sets in, the chains of rain and the overcast ocean. I grow old in dull, unwanted moments and phases of the moon. All roads lead to the gallows, all gods are devils in the end. Alibis and excuses to free the beast locked in your heart. Sophistry grinning from your idiot smile, teeth bared in confession of your many ugly sins. You can settle who with a bullet, you can settle up with a blade. Paint the walls with your brains, let your blood pool around your corpse. I will not pass your way again.
This is the life leavened with lies and ergot, the mad ramblings of the chapel, the base deceptions of the church. Cops and kings and creepy little priests gather their legions to hunt and hang the truth. They bleat and bray and pray away, coveting the sun and cowering in the night. They preach and claim while the wind and the rain wash away their clumps of verbiage with the rest of the shit in the gutters, insulted and afraid because you tell them no. If a book or a flag or mad mythic devourer gives them license, revoke their right with a clout or some further fustigation. The only laws their are are those that are inviolable. All the rest is etiquette.
I’m mostly glad to play along if it doesn’t cost me anything. I’m mostly glad to stay my hand unless the evil is unabashed. I can’t be true if I follow dissemblers and deceivers. I can’t be free through the oppression of others. Don’t heap your idiot oil wars upon my shoulders, don’t kill children and tell me it’s for my good. I know death and I know fear, dragged through the world by the four horsemen, broken and tattered and unrepentant still. I’ve nailed them to trees in the depths of the forest, loosed their mounts and burned their tack upon lost altars beneath the scattered stars. A heart full of love and murder, and a juggler’s hands in the midst of the slaughter. All blessings and blood warm. A lonesome animal only beholden to the moon.
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