Think Ghouls. It’s Friday. August 21, 2015Posted by The Typist in cryptical envelopment, Moloch, The Narrative, The Typist, Toulouse Street, Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.
Arabella’s request for a Friday song. The Speaking Tequila Skull approves.
And roverman’s refrain of the sacrilege recluse
For the loss of a horse
Went the bowels and a tail of a rat
Come again, choose to go
And if epiphany’s terror reduced you to shame
Have your head bobbed and weaved
Choose a side to be on
If this job doesn’t kill me, I will emerge a creature that would horrify Rimbaud, Hunter and Lovecraft. I will utter words of truth so monstrous the unfrozen pole will shift its axis, the clouds will rain fears dissolving the statistically consistent, and all of the money hustlers will be swallowed by the gaping cracks that will grin in the earth hungry for their souls.