Yup, I might’ve been drunk when I wrote that one.

Once in a Blue Moon

It’s been too long, a Golden Age away, the rape of the Iron Queen leaving the Earth barren. She longs for his glow, she calls out to him, but she knows it’s too late, she’s already seen him as many times as she could for the month. She knows she’s forced to merely stand alone and wait; bear the brunt of longing, of yearning, with nothing to get her through it. The world continues to suffer under the sorrow of its Mother; the Sahara, the Gobi, the Mohave all expand faster through the malignance of Chaos. He feeds on the desolation of her separation. Sucking the very life out of her through that evil boundless pit he feels himself rise victoriously above the Sky, above the Ocean, and one better, above the Earth. He feels supreme in the suppression of love, and she feels weakened in the absence of the one she loves; not whole, not alive, left without his bright light when she needs it the most, in the darkest of hours.

But there’s a problem. Venus is moving towards Helios, and amidst the Chaos the chimerical happens. Out of the darkness a new light emerges impossibly, but valiantly. Venus aligns and allies with Helios. Before the world’s celestial Mother stands the luminescent king of the night at full strength. Casting moonbeams to stave off the Chaos he deracinated the despondence that had spread across the surface of the Earth. Dotted amongst the dancing, pure rays the virgin, blossom petals of moon flowers Spring to life; a sprig of love that was always there, even in the darkest hour.

The universal aptitude for ineptitude makes any human accomplishment an incredible miracle.
John Paul Stapp

My Grandpa and my Opa, good men.

I’m going to excuse myself from Tumblr for awhile. I’ve provided nothing of value in a long time.

I’m a mess lately.

I’m not sure, but my heart rate seems to suggest that I might be experiencing my first genuine, irrational panic attack. What the fuck is this?

I had about four different sex dreams last night. What the actual fuck.

One stormy night a brush fire crept along to the bridge. It proceeded to burn slowly through the drizzle. This stood in direct contrast with the one I had personally set ablaze, but I took credit for both just the same.

“I’m handsome,” I whisper to myself, praying that it’s true.

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