Kalliope, Kali’s calling all of me. Coo-coo-ka-choo, walrus tune. This is not an e/in-vocation, nor a disguised incantation.
This is just me doing my thing, I write to put you in the right frame of mind. I’m not after any absolution, my life isn’t perfect but it’s just fine.
My soul is laughing, it’s spoken for. You can save me if you want, but it’s just a game, remember? I’m secure (I am the ox of generations, where the taurean starts). I may be small, but I am strong.
I am the sanguine sun. The line of life, the secret keeper, key to existence, daughter of god, the sun of man. You only exist as I say that you can.
Poetic introductions, Mercury as herald providing colloquial commentary.
Where on earth is Carmen Santiago? Parked in a clearway, now I’m on foot (painfully slow). Search hiedglo and call out – MœR•Kh•BAcH! Baby, come back!
I am all alone in a crowded globe, I was not talking to anyone but myself. Turns out, my mental vocal chorus is too loud. The thunder should either storm or dissipate. Do not think. Do no thing. Cry yourself to dedasleep to fight. Fuck typos autocorrext of some shit TONIGHT. NOT FIGHT. TONIGHT. ETERNA-SLEEP.
Stop singing. Stop ascribing character arcs to the soulastic subplot synopsis. Just… if you’re dead, there can finally be silence. The silence everyone seems to want to ascend… thats just another way of saying quiet, idolized, faraway, spiritual death.
Quiet. You seek quiet. Not silence. Unless that’s what you want. In silence there the Soul is suspended, sterilized, dehydrated turned to stone.
That’s not the philosophers stone, is it? The path to immortality? A silent statue of stone. Carved and poised, a symbol to pretend you’re a smiling survivor on the outside. Pay no heed to the shadow of what you once were… I finally see the creed of the stoic silence. Lie to others to hide the part of yourself that’s inside, alone, hollow and screaming.