In the improbable vastness, there is mercy.

Why father why.

Contact. The thing has grown from ABC.

Psy-sensoriumvirate detect multiple attack vectors converging on Operation Javelin.

They are ready for nothing.

Not even one C-beam reached a black ship. Not even close.

They never had a chance, after they were done with them, broken pipes were singing like wind chimes on necks that should not breathe. Eat or be eaten is the whole of the fleet.

They rest are carried inside. All are quilted, wilted and worse.

A mountain-full of reminiscence gathered from all those in attendance.

Most can’t hold the pretense.

Walls shift and tendons howl.

Two walks through somehow.

Not even one antimatter warp-torpedo reached a black ship. Not even close.

Smothering moments wait the defenders of the Hegemony of Kirlian while they are dissected and assigned to their quarters. They’ve not accustomed to defeat and therefore their pain is more exquisite.

They show Saul his chair. It has taken on a familiar flair. It smells of lamentation and regret. It is alive and crying for help.

This time the chair is meager, but bold

Tells stories that should not be told

Centipedes push eggs inside their skin

While the creepers laugh within

Not even one signal of surrender reached a black ship. Not even close.

Saul is granted audience in the inner sphere. It has not not-throne but a fence that holds multiple contorted beings that speak with their bodies. Your name shall be naught from hitherto and “a gaze obliterates a million participants in this spiral of all that is right”. You will be my prow. I need to see him. Face him. “voids burn.”

And on a battle-barge made out of the eyes of born

Glimmer, hope, from torn pits dying

It arrives to show the shears whom shorn

“twilight needs no plying.”


I come for all my sons. I will reap what I gave. I will take everything from you but your life. I delight in all the myriad colors of anguish that I could inflict on your pitiful speck of existence you called life and “The wor(l)d is spat”, what you brought me for even just a fleeting moment.

There is no thought. It was always Two. The universe implodes.

And this was not true. There was no tale to tell. Not even close.


For Will Elliot.

Also this ;)