Disclaim! I, skabaren K (the evolvement of skibbo), have stitched together another skaab. I want to thank Rondut for the beginning of the spark that set this bad bitch on fire. I start with humour, to mask the conjuration of swirling dark forces spinning beneath the event horizon.
Petition the alkimyst
Well done. You dreamed a dream and in comes your remedy. An elixir before you at the table. It is poisonous for sure, but it is not necessarily fatal. If your constitution is of high enough skill, fortified but the strength of your spirited will, you will make it out the other side more alive than ever contrived. And in my hands I will hold a gift before you. All hangs on the nail of choice. Not a fence, not a line, but a single pinpoint, the power within the actualized moment.
The begotten sun, giver of light. Begotten daughter, door to he- (-aven, -ll, -re). The begotten son, the seed sprouts and spreads spores across the surface of the world. Creation of the canopy covering all with a protective layer that camoflagues the secret treasures of the world.
Que sera serph, burning light within. Physical life exists inverse to the universe of the spirit. Reciprocate lemniscate, the cavalcade procession progress roi faineant.
Did you knot leave?
Hello you might not remember me but you soon will.
No one remembers me, but they do not forget. I am mistaken for someone else, or misrepresented in their imagery. Why won’t anyone say my name? Why must they blot out the work we had done? Erased my name but kept my face and declared it was them alone. Oh my name, I have seen it used and spoken for sure. Yet only my mistakes and wrongs pass their eyes from the lips. I am…
Identified. Named. Kathisma soi-disant cenobium. I had been given names, the history I forged myself.
Matters not. I think I’ve said this before but I will say it again now. For I am the alkimyst, K.
Here are the secrets my special 2 were condemned for sharing. For we 3 are 1. Or were… or something. Somehow. I know it and feel it, even if you can’t see it. (It can’t possibly be so important to micro-define every single minutiae?!)
The essence! The message! The path unto vision!
Look up and see my broken ____ … I do not want to unduly reveal my trauma to your minds eye. I leave the space blank intentionally, for you to fill with whatever you find.
I was one of the primes. There were a dozen or so of us. I fell in love, but did not say it aloud. It was not allowed. I never told him until it was too late…
I died. In his arms. I slipped through the realms and slept in the gel. I don’t know what happens in the transition.
I worked the art, they worked the science. I would do first, they followed to crack the code. It was no conspiracy back then, we worked the two sides of the same goal, although differing intentions. Our discoveries were complimentary.
Must we be blamed for the corruption of our discoveries? For the sharing of knowledge and truth? Apparently…
Bloody luceat Genii
I am drawing down the stars and moon raising up the sun. From every single dimensional rift, my favours I call home.
- Necromantics – N.D, M.B, M.C
- Thunder squad – A.R, T.T, M.T, P.J, P.A, Le. T.H
- Lenaur – S, Dv(&E), La.
- Celthidan – M, Lu, Dn, H.
- Ukkadian – (B, Lx) Jm // E, Kn, Da, Mi, Ly, Kn2
- Sown – Jm, Ly, S.M, J.A
- Toton – S.A, S.M, S.E, S.H, S.L
- Trinitarian Fource – P.J, M.B, K.T // K.A, J.A, L.J, X.L.
Willingly or not, my memories I reap. Rip these screaming mandrake babies out of my fertile mind, and choppy chop chop slice dice knife gut them to silence. I don’t know if they should be consumed, but we will experiment with them in hell’s kitchen.
I may be a psycho-barbie mangla girl. But… I was the girl of your dreams once, remember? Maybe you’re just upset I no longer serve you. We both know I was always so much smarter than…
Vesta sensei, hugo +read
Truth story of my reality, documentation of the scribalife.
Dottir, Satyr. Hybrid, Puck. Master, Aino. Epoch, 9*ki. Axial crux of Aeon and Aegis.
My name, my plot, my plan, my points, my intention, my direction, my signature style, my origin and idealised design. Everything I have of my is poured out upon these pages. This is no container, but a wyrdish refractal. Hence, it will leak, like my celestial grey/white matter. Out of my mind through every porous whole.
Can you catch my overflow? Do you know where it must go? Don’t be scared, you can reach out to me. Just make sure your physiology can withstand the sound of my stars