DEIMOS
DEIMOS
ISBN-10: 1482378787ISBN-13: 978-1482378788
DEIMOS
BLOOD OCEAN BOOKS
DEIMOS
JOHN
COSTA
DEIMOS
DEIMOS
D E I M O S
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Bellum Temporum
Tempus cubare creatur igitur nos confusum
Vera ipse clara et non quaretur conversum socratum ita
Ex crepuscule et deltrium novorum venemini etiam
Deus mortem visum de speculo et nunc tamen vocabo
Hoc mundorum quaretis animas flammas exspiras
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In The Arms of Aeon
Hissing snakes from the ground sounding through the wind
Sinking the flesh and chilling the spine
Mapping the synchronicity of time
Logos pulling arms through the blind
Light years bending strands of veiled illusions
Peer witness to Aeon
Where she calls to he
Where she is
Eternally holding arms
A cup pouring water
Into the boundless sea
AEON OLD INTO AEON NEW
He took her hand in tranquility
The sound so blaring
As she walked him through the sharpest truths
Her nature spoke “All is right.”
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And so it goes that he fell into her arms tonight, sunken
Bid farewell to the pain released into itself
Flowing pleasure heaven
He closed his eyes and all turned blue
So he walked into it
Vibrancy
Frequency
Perfect wisdom
Sophia unveiled
Blinding so fine
Vision realized too true
Fallen in love
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The Furies
The shadow of a dead oak falls on the earth
The dead leaves whistling in a cold breeze
When the time is broken our ties to heaven tear like lies of
untold fates
The Furies break through and wreak havoc on lives
The lines of reality to a delusional nightmare
A storm clears in the eye and there’s a calm in the air
Wont habits and thinking to be destroyed and unlearned
Through creative method
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A RUNE IN THE RUINS
The gaze in the mirror is lost and alone…
At first glance is a man in distress
His eyes start sinking and the pupils open deep
The flesh sends off heat and the eyes fade further to black
holes in the face
The image transforms slowly melting expressions on a
mask of unknown possibility
The face old a thousand years
And the face turns mean and then smiles old and wise
Dark plasm flows from the eyes all around the mask
Shifting little imperfections of being one to another
It shakes itself off only to be pulled back in by the eyes
Again and again the pupils open up and the flesh and the
blood turn hot melt the face vaguely
Now there’s a dead man’s face with brittle hair in his beard
His eyes dissolving the judgment and fears and intentions
of living
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The eyes turn liquid and the plasm stretches like amoeba,
swallowing all of being slowly and surely
It grows and grows covering the room, the house, and the
town
It devours the countries and the oceans
And finally the globe is all swallowed in deep space
Just as I swallow this fruit I throw out the peel
And it lay there for days and dries up
For weeks and it shrivels for months and years and it’s
barely there but still something is left aimlessly
wandering…
Like swinging a blade
Creating destruction
I dream alone at night traversing myself
The inner tunnels, the labyrinth of my destiny
Fighting just makes it hurt
Letting go so blissfully
It came time to do what I always knew I would
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The journey itself the destination, with the only reason
being why
The battlefield for progress in a mind field
In the beginning together as one
I landed my ship and headed for the long journey home
And so it said “When you transist the OM it will soothe so
sweet.”
Reappearing on the triumph of your virtue on the day we
meet
I don’t know you yet, or so it seems, so long ago, and so
soon, we age older and older
And we are traveling the world
Just to see “What’s out there?”
And “It this for me?”
Or “How about that?!”
I settle on the coast between to oceans
I write by the fire in a humble home
I eat modest meals and wander the rainforest
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I swim in the rivers where third world children play
I soak in the sun and rest on the beaches
I never have the time for the life of me
I simply sit cross legged by the waves where the tropic
summer stretches so long
The tide ebbs and flows in harmony like the wild fires in
your eyes
We drown in beauty so out of time
And with the battle long over laying there to rest I see the
joy and the pain all in good jest
Now the wind blows easy in the palm of my hand
And through the shape of the world I find my creation
The driving focus threw the day dream in motion
Just as Archimedes the Greek constructed bronze cogs and
founting water in Antikytheara
Measuring the movements of the heavens
It must have broken his heart when it sank to the bed of the
Mediterranean
Rusting and waiting to be discovered for centuries
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Like all the flames of knowledge from the burning books
when Alexandria’s library was torched in antiquity
A fire that settled as the ashes we call the dark ages
And now there’s a spark of a dawning a new day
And in a fever my heart begs to be free
It all came down so fast I couldn’t believe
She spoke clearly
Her name Athena
And she’s guiding the exploding desire
To the twilight where the attraction is real
Before I was foolish, anxiously running from myself
Scattered and torn like leaves and branches in fall
The gardens adorned like a puzzle so pieced sleep walking
itself back into place
My aim was askew downward and inward to nothing
But hers was dead on and she hit the target with no sin no
sine just two points in a perfect straight line
The magic is gone and everything is clear
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We both feel no fear
The buildings are towering
And no one knows what to expect
Sitting here waiting for the sun and moon to set
All flawlessly flowing in the sands of time
Just then a lantern was lit
I find myself in a dragon’s lair
Where he lies sleeping in slumbers dream for Aeon
He barely awoke at my knock on the door
And mumbled “Just leave me be I’m sleeping 'til dead.”
I felt what he meant and looked down to the ground and
started to turn around
It is here where the bone yards of men and their horses lie
dead in the dust a cold and dark air blows in the cave and I
wrap my arms around myself
The water is a dark and acquiescent with no reflection at all
Suddenly very far off a dim light appears
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Blindly making my way through those serpentine tombs
following the growing light
I stumble on a golden room bursting open my eyes
Colorful paintings, and sculptures, and cryptic writings
All scrawled on the walls
In the center rests gold and silver and jewels
With hanging veined fruits for the hand of god
While outside in the desert vultures are preying and the
carrion rots in the valley of plagues
But here a laughter flows melodious from the mystic breath
of afterlife
And so it goes timelessly turning today as before and ever
again
We return and the quest is a white rose
From your mother and father given to you a long time ago
That you thought you’d lost
You sought it out and found it here
A rune in the ruins of a broken mirror
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The Frozen Garden
Deeply gaze into the sands of time,
To the frozen garden, your existence;
Watch as it melts to so many puddles,
See as the sun rises from the other side
And tends to unforeseen possibilities,
And synchronicity collapses your perception of self, being,
and consciousness,
Transmuting you to the infinite spiral conscience,
Do the waters hit the earth like crystalline memories?
Are you reborn yet again, only to awaken to one?
The resonating ring of your circulated bliss,
In the frozen Garden of the own existence…
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ON CUTTING
Your doing it wrong
You break the shaving razor with your hands
Retrieve the blade
Your wrists tremble in reluctance
You slice them into beautiful red waterfalls circling the
drain
You realize the pain is real
Emotional pain being meaningless
You get to feel something
High and delusional
You burn the blood unto the internet
DNA satellites
Helicopters circle above
Dry mundane daze
You realize yourself in the mirror
Mediocrity and oppression
Neurotic depression
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They all hang like raven wings
Look yourself in the eyes
Tell yourself
Continue to circle the drain
There is no such thing as rock bottom
DEIMOS
Dear Phoenix,
I’ve been busy moving into the new place so I
haven’t been able to get back to you. It’s right off the Great
Highway; I can essentially roll out of bed with the pacific
sands between my toes. It is a bit pricey for a flat but the
location can’t be beat.
I’ve just been unloading boxes I packed in a rush
after graduation to get out of the dorms. Little treasures
were buried deep in the school junk, so I had to go through
everything.
It’s a nice city. I’ve always thought you should
come out here for a weekend. Now that you’re all grown up
in high school and all, Mom might let you take the Grey
hound. If you’re interested, ask her about it and I’ll buy the
ticket.
I miss you, and I get real home sick. I’ll be walking
through the city and catch myself nostalgic. I’ll start
imagining the freezing Colorado snow crunching under my
boots, walking in layered jackets while rubbing my gloves
as I can see my breath.
I know things have been hard for you since I left.
Just good be good to mom okay, don’t give her any shit. I
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know you’re too young to tell, but she hasn’t been the same
since dad passed. Anyways, she told me Aunt Silva moved
Grandpa into an old folk’s home. The Alzheimer’s is taking
its toll.
Mom said they went to check on him and he
introduced himself, then he said he’s working there. Mom
played along, but the way I see it, at least he feels purpose.
He was always such a coy joker, you know? The way he
would claim he invented the hook shot. I can just picture
him on his Missouri high school basketball team in the 50s
convinced he invented the hook shot. Anyways, I’ll be back
during the holidays to visit.
I’m starting a paper pushing job next month. It
doesn’t make much use of the Film Degree, but yeah… a 9
to 5 grind to get my feet off the ground and pay back my
student loans. Mom thinks I should do grad school, but I’m
done. I need a break.
Seems like all I see is filthy concrete and towering
skyscrapers….buzzing electric lights and leering billboard
and all the frustrated faces of these day dreaming
strangers… so yeah, I planted some wildflowers next to the
window they’re just waiting to bloom.
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I was on a walk this afternoon and I saw Mike at the
piers. You remember Mike, he came out from Boulder with
me, all hyped on a basketball scholarship, ready to study
Calculus. I almost didn’t recognize him, all wrapped up in a
dirty parka with a beanie stretched over the lines on his
forehead.
A dark paleness fell from his eyes, bloodshot in
soaking misery. His voice broke as he told me he was back
at the clinic, taking methadone.
Such a sham, the chill fog clearing over the bay, and
he’s in line for a wretched fix.
I’m telling you Phoenix it’s the same dull and dying
story taking the best from dusk to dusk.
I miss you bro, I dreamt of you the other night.
You were riding a giant black horse through
thundercloud over crashing waves and the Golden Gate.
You struck down a lance and everything rained down like
shattering obsidian. And a loan grain was tossed into the
mouth of a giant oyster.
Then I awoke and it was storming.
I couldn’t fall back asleep.
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So I listened to that CD you sent me.
Thanks by the way, the package came as a total
surprise. It was sitting on the dorm floor during finals. I
unwrapped the boxes smiling. I knew it was you. I listened
to it for the first time on a cable car. I totally fell in love
with it. I’ve been singing along in the apartment with no
clue who the bands are or what songs are called.
Thanks again.
I’ll see you soon.
Follow your dreams,
Immanuel
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Gypsy
“May I help you?”
“The Friday night crowd fills the café, conversation
and laughter flowing with the jazz band’s music and a
clattering soft roar of espresso machines. Taking my cup
from the barista, I nod and give her a “Thank you.” I tap
light roast because it has the most caffeine.
Sipping my coffee as I walk out the double doors
onto the sidewalk patio, the moon stands cool waning
among scattered stars sprinkled in the indigo sky. Cars pass
to my left, a small crowd mingles at benches smoking. I
kick back with a cigarette, enjoying my coffee. A peculiar
old man in a black coat and a golfer’s cap paces the
sidewalk before me, mumbling to himself. He’s going off;
all I can make out are the words “hydrogen” “oxygen” and
a whole lot of mumbling to himself. Scratching his gray
goatee and speaking in scattered technical terms, he pokes
his fingers into thin air counting under his breath. I shake
my head in disbelief; this town is full of crazies.
My friend, M. walks up, she gestures with her cup
and sits next to me. She sips her coffee and sets it
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deliberately onto the table. She lights a smoke then flashes
a smirk, noticing the old man.
“Anyway, how’re you doing?” I ask.
“Oh, good man, yourself?”
“Same old, same old.”
“Are you going to school?” M. asks.
“I dropped out. I‘ve always wanted to do school
though.”
The man pacing stops and points at me with a
curiously lazy finger, and asks me if I am going to school.
Caught off guard for a second I look at him, and
hesitantly answer.
“Yea, I might.”
“What are you going to study?” He asks.
“Well, I have to finish math and science.”
“Well... hey take your time, understand.” His hands
flow in circles.
M. and I look the guy up and down. He has and aura
of eloquence about him; I often enjoy conversations with
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strangers here at the coffee shop. I once met a guy who had
been backpacking across the country for a number of years.
He had a lot of interesting things to say. Maybe this guy is
not just so insane after.
“Definitely, it is important to understand material.”
I agree with him.
“Understanding brings about positive awareness,
you see, and positive awareness is spirituality. Dogma is a
form of tunnel vision. My understanding is… in terms you
understand…God is a word that has been around for
millennia. Well, God, as they say; is a fulcrum, and that is
to bring about positive awareness. God is turning a negative
to a positive… chemicals in a liquid state… there are
countless variables involved and in all probability the
future has limitless possibilities. The mind is made of many
different elements existing in a liquid state. Positive
awareness.”
M. sets her coffee cup down conclusively.
The man starts pacing, stroking his goatee again.
“What’s a fulcrum?” M. asks me.
“It is a leverage point.” I say matter-of-factly.
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My friend nods her head in understanding and sips
her coffee.
The guy seems to know what he is talking about. He
speaks through a modest raspy voice, and I get the feeling
he’s been through a lot. I am not quite sure what he means
by his definition of God, I understand the concept but it
seems vague.
“Chemicals?” I stop him to expand.
“Yes, neurotransmitters, it all happens in a liquid
state. God created us in his spiritual image.”
“Like creation… hmmm…” I never thought of it
like that. When I think of god I usually think of an old man
with a beard or some vaguely eternal river. Perhaps, there’s
something to this thought of God as a measure for positive
awareness.
“Anyone want to buy some rings?” A grey haired
woman wearing blue jeans and a denim jacket with a purple
scarf wrapped around walks up with a set of rings on a
large key ring in her hands.
“They are five dollars.” She adds as she holds them
toward us.
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“They look nice,” the old man tells her.
M. looks idly and casually shrugs, the woman
moves on to show some other people in the crowd.
I smile, the old man is strange, I thought he was just
a rambling mad man.
“Why are certain stones considered precious?” I
ask.
“Rarity” He concludes.
“What is quartz, or obsidian? Some say it absorbs
negative energies?”
“A talisman…like a crucifix, a focus, a meditation,
you see. You and me and her, we can only know what we
know through our own experience.” The man says.
I slowly lose interest as he fades out and I can no
longer follow what he is saying conceptually or audibly. He
is pacing back and forth, I am a little irritated because I was
enjoying the conversation.
I attempt to bring him back down to my level.
“What did you do today?”
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That is when we started getting into politics and
straying into areas too abstract for me to handle.
“You know there is a difference between words like
truth and table. You can’t argue with the word table.” I say
finally.
M. looks at me. Our coffee is all gone and I know it
is time to go.
“I‘m Saul.” I put out my hand.
“Gypsy.” he responds with a humble smile.
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Magic
Those interested in knowledge of practical use of
hermetic magic. The origin of these spells is unknown, and
the personages of the church which founded these rites
have been lost for aeon. Understanding them is necessary
for those who wish to use them, though I do not
recommend the reader to unless the guide is taken
seriously.
The simplicity of the spells depends upon the mage
using them, higher faith is needed for the desired outcome
to reach its occurrence one simply will require a table, a set
of instruments representing the five elements, earth wind
fire water and ether.
For earth a bowl of salt should work just fine.
For wind unlit candles.
For fire sedimentary rocks or ground match heads
or gun powder.
For the water one might use a bowl with water.
Keep the cards on the east end of the table, and the
birth stones on the west.
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Handmade ornaments of leather and hemp with bird
feathers shall be the ether. The fate of the spell is up to you,
so beware and yield to the order of THE.
Dismantle the muse as a radical politically ripening
tragic fruit. I to be the heroine of the future or the past.
The basics of wondering the bohemia.
Profusely arrayed images mystically breaking the
trees smoke in abundance my lung exhaled in a thousand
verses I saw back then in the euphorium of time and
essence.
“Shy away from this.” She said to me, the priestess,
and my guide, taken from her shuttle
I broke the spell by tracking numbers cast into the
chorus of ocean.
Opioid addiction taken into levels I’d never dropped
to before, the apomorphine hit so many as I rose to the top
unshunned by few I took a deep breath and settled to the
sound of the music.
Circulation of blood through the veins the circuits
faculty tearing the electric. Hash devils beware Hassan I
Sabah and the assassins took the man’s head.
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As the sole woman on the team I was brought to the
mountain to profess to the emperor the miracle which had
not even occurred yet. I had no doubt even prima facie of
the stone wall to entrance was appearing at dawn like a
yawning jaws of mystery.
Neglecting labor fields in death trine. Signs of the
times. A clock falling away into the bullet through the
picturesque.
The nod was on.
Shape shifters on the black strobe light ceiling,
ancestral and pure.
Television flickering static, the music way too loud.
Starting to feel sick to my stomach, I fell in the bathroom
vomiting.
Shadows clinging to my person in the wilderness of
my mind.
I’d passed this a million times before, primal and
free. Stolen from the details parasitic side effects.
Coming clean burning three days later with road the
night cold and the wind shield crackling and freezing flesh
feeling released and my soul realigned.
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I’ve never felt so dreamy I opened the door and
walked up to the stone house my hands brittle and broken I
needed more pills.
Her face shocked that they were already gone.
I shrugged and she understood.
She drove and we got more.
She gave me a shot, my first one, and for a moment
was the only feeling I ever wanted to feel ever.
Liquid.
Liquid metal.
Liquid metal.
Local Bohemian natives mingle with their cigarette
pulling the cards undone.
One stomps a bug and smiles.
`“Amici pro esse meus lodi, nocte est meretricie ad
nexus.”
Rhythmic flow of the currents flew toward the east
into what one would call methodological sounds and
theorem from X1 and X2, the harmony and dissonance
being the creationism of art.
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“I’ve got a present for you.”
“What? You serious?”
I sat up a little straighter and smiled.
“Yea, seeing how tonight is Halloween and all.”
She started to unlock the desk drawer which was
filled with a stash of various pills.
I smiled and grabbed the mix.
“You fucker! MINE!”
“Haha, yeah.”
My eyes closed as we sunk into the mattress.THE.
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Ghost Town
The skull and bones of a dead horse lay strewn
across the cracked earth. The blistering heat of the sun
reflects off the pale ribs of the skeleton. High above in the
clear blue sky a hawk circles the desolate weeds in the dry
heat from the sun. In the distance the lone road of Ghost
Town stretches across the desert, old wooden buildings line
the dusty road and a few people stand in the street.
At the small bar a man leans against the wood of the
building on the deck smoking a cigarette with his hat low
over his face. His lazy eyes fall on some crows scavenging
in the dust. Mumbling to himself dragging his cigarette.
Inside the doors a crowd of drunks, gamblers and
gunslingers drink their fill. Rogelio, the bartender, is a man
with an uncanny knack for connections; he can make
anything happen for anyone at any time; which is a rare gift
in a place like this.
Ghost Town became an attraction for sin, people
pick up and leave for a while, but crowds mingle from time
to time passing through. The town is on and off with
drifters of all walks of life with no real permanent
residents. Indefinite kicks and a roll of the dice and people
would just vanish and reappear.
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Outside a man pulls up barely running and wearing
expressions of expectation and hope from the stranger out
front. He tosses the cigarette into his direction.
“Hi.”
“How you doing?”
“Mateo?”
The stranger lifts his eye in dull blank stare, fully
ready for the deal, or to explain it to him.
“No one wants your contact here, film is no good.”
The stranger’s face pulled tough against his
jawbone his eyes lacking all intention. Again his gaze falls
to the crows walking in the dust. He spits on the wood of
the deck.
Mateo, looks through the doors, drunken
conversation flows.
“What did they say?”
“No good.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yep.”
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The stranger’s eyes flash red and Mateo is gripped,
lifting him off the deck he throws him through the air with
the birds.
“It’s no good, they won’t take it. Rogelio and I
don’t need you around here and we don’t work for free, so
we’ll see your money by sun down.” He puts his hands into
his pockets. Mateo falls away.
The stranger lights another smoke.
Birds hang on the rooftop as the sun travels through
sky.
The stranger lowers his hat and exhales grey haze
through his teeth. Rogelio wipes down the bar.
Mateo drives home in mumbling disbelief. His film
written noir, not accepted. Kris, an actor in the film is at his
home on the couch prepping a shot.
The phone starts to ring.
“Hello? No good, really? Yeah, fuck, alright, I’ll be
there.” He slams the receiver.
Mateo, in the basement, cleans the 9mm over the
projection screen of the dark concrete wall, low tones and
sounds of conversation two men have over the clicking
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reel. His face is lit up by the steel, he kisses the gun in the
reflection of the grey light.
Rogelio serves the last drunk, a whisky on the
rocks.
“Do you think he will show?”
Stranger drags a cigarette, the birds with their heads
hanging silent on the rooftop of the building across the
street. The sun goes down over the rusty metal signs of the
old station across the street as the darkness creeps in. He
blows thick smoke into the desert night, “Yes.”
Mateo with the steel in his pants and Kris with his
tight, pull up.
They figured they’d roll in slipping through the
doors, he knew the stranger never watched the film, so he
wouldn’t recognize Kris. They could retrieve the film after,
he figured in arrogance to kill.
They sneak in past the stranger just as he walks in.
Their bodies pile up easily and effortlessly they’re
gone from existence.
Rogelio will have to get someone to clean this
fuckin’ blood up.
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The stranger grunts at the stains.
He walks back out and looks at the birds in the
moonlight, a street lamp flickers on at the station and he
drags another smoke.
A tumble weed blows toward the dead horse where
two more ravens fly in the night.
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The Big Bang
Basically put it was the end of the big bang. Things
in the universe were turning in on themselves. Time was
speeding up and slowing down at indeterminable rates, the
machines people used to measure such things were no
longer relevant. If they tried, they would just tell you
irrational numbers, or numbers that didn’t exist at all. The
religious said God was angry and punishing man, the
apocalypse.
There were a number of dimensional shifts and
people disappearing into thin air. There was a radical
growth in the number of UFO sightings. There were
galactian alignments of unimaginable proportions causing a
sort of rewinding of the whole history of certain Galaxies.
Stars were shrinking and growing sucking up whole solar
systems they provided. Ravenous black holes were eating
each other and these pits of the universe were just like
landmines of universal trash. Dark matter was inverted into
matter and was taking over the entire system, but most
likely it was popular belief anyway, is that it was in charge
the entire time the universe has existed.
I am going to tell you about how it all changed
humanity and maybe some other existences in other realms
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and planets. See, humans have always been the most
interesting creatures, most life in the universe is below the
level of having any sort of consciousness at all. Some do,
of course but simply on an instinctual level. And then there
is the super evolved beings that have become so
technologically and biologically advanced that there is just
no diversity at all, and they are doomed to fail. The humans
have had a unique balance on this scale which had resulted
in a great diversity of cultures and ideas within the species
that the humans at this time were very confused and
cultures were going through erratic changes after the huge
technology booms and the great number of natural
disasters. People were frightened and acting as if they still
had control over things. When in fact the truth was quite
different.
People were sinking back into another dark ages,
machines no longer useful, they had to rely upon ancient
methods of doing things. For example the computers were
going hay wire and the old pc had to be revived, the
handhelds were spontaneously combusting. Some even
resorted to using books for information, which had long
been outdated and were only kept in libraries and a few
museums. But more importantly is the war that was started,
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roughly between the western and eastern hemispheres. It
was all about uniting the planet in a desperate time in order
preserve humanity itself. The western countries wanted a
monarchical kingdom way of governing. While the
easterners wanted a democratic way. The problem with that
is there was so many people on earth at this time it was
really unrealistic to have elections. Either way, that is
where my story begins.
Captain: “We’re going in boys. Hesitation is death.
Over”
All pilots repeat: “Hesitation is death”
Captain: “1-7, left, 8-14 stay right, 15-20 stay with
me. Over and out.”
The captain flew straight into his destiny, knowing
that this would be the end he unhitched his face mask and
took a swig from the old flask.
“Ugh, strong shit.”
He put the cap on the bottle refitted his face mask
and sped toward the enemy plans.
In an underground government control center
somewhere in the western empire the highest ranking
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military leaders sat around a circular table discussing
options to be taken for order to win the war. The best idea
they could come up with was then sent to the monarch who
in turn approved of the plan. Operation east it was an idea
brought up by general Moraugh, it outlined aerial border of
the east and drop enough fire power to destroy the east 10
times over.
The men got in their planes. Which were lined up
on the concrete. Ship decks in perfect grids. Held their
weapon all alike. The bomb titled “Resolve”. They began
to hover over the decks of the ships. Which lay just outside
the eastern ocean’s border. The planet, few expecting to
live, feeling hopeless. Though they were able to fly high.
Enough to escape the damage. The risk was still great.
Each team of pilots came flying in swarms. The
used even older technologies and their weak radars couldn’t
detect a thing. It was too late for them.
The earth in the east was a dry cracked desert from
end to end. The bombs left such elephantine cracks that it
was melting to the core. All that was left was sands and no
biological life was ascertainable to the pilots above. Just
that brownish powder. And sand storms over their graves.
DEIMOS
The news in the west spread quickly, everyone
celebrated. No one was concerned with the people of the
east because no one valued them. Most people several
stories underground or couldn’t even see the ground at all
because they were piled so high up in sky scrapers. Some
never even saw the ground and they didn’t even know
about it. They just lived in oblivion to the ground. Some
wouldn’t believe it unless they saw it for themselves.
The west won. But at what cost? Half of the planet
obliterated? This lead to natural disasters and enough
radiation to kill or mutate the humans left.
The radiological mass spreading in the desert east
lead to a number of mutations from the biological material
left in the powder on the ground. The earth began to take
form. Dirt clumps took life. They evolved and grew
quickly. But they never escaped the form of sand clumps.
Dirt clump men even took form fighting each other in the
rain. And finally they were primitive giants. They clumped
around there fighting one another. They just wanted to end
their lives at first. Then they evolved further and further to
nomadic tribes. They fought another and actually found one
another. Upon the western border and in the cities they
formed they found peace. They had never seen such
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warriors and governments began to revive the western
democracy.
The helicopters began to land back at base with the
planes after the occupation. It was really just a big
inconvenience. Mad men roamed the world looking for the
unocean of thought they never found. The myth of the
conscious oasis in the east that the people discovered just a
rumor after all. Just selling dreams to the elite, strata of sky.
DEIMOS
The Wharf
Joey, Sal, and Danny stood at the wharf, the cool
bay breeze blowing through the crowd of people. The guys
hung out there most of the time, it was sort of like a
meeting place where anyone could meet up with others and
get some business going when times got tough. Joey, who
had been trying hard to get some money together to raise
his kid, who was just in middle school, needed some
dough.
“I got a deal for you.” Sal said.
“Yeah? What’s the deal?” Joey asked skeptical. He
never really liked Sal, he was always bringing around
trouble.
“It’s simple, you just get me some of the stuff from
Jack, and I got some guys who’d really be interested.”
“How much we talking?” Joey asked.
“Yeah, how much?” Danny was Joeys partner, he
sort of just hung around him like he was his younger
brother or something, but Joey, didn’t mind, he loved the
kid, he’d treat him like his own brother too.
DEIMOS
“Well, seeing as you’ve got to cut me in too, I’d
imagine you could get a good couple of G’s for yourself in
the end. They’re looking for a key.” Sal calculated.
A key was a lot of stuff, but Joey knew Jack had his
connections, so he figured all would be fine, as long as Jack
was cool.
Newspapers strewn everywhere, there were a few
books about mechanics and gun catalogues scattered on the
tables and floors. Old coffee mugs half filled with cigarette
butts and dirty articles of clothing hung from various lights
and coat hooks. He sat on the couch in a wife beater
hanging loose over his sick yellow flesh dimly lit by the
sun through the kitchen window.
Jacky was a hell of a fighter with a mean face, you
couldn’t tell by looking at the guy, real thin and weak
looking, but he could punch your lights out and you
wouldn’t even see it coming. He was the sort of guy who
lived real cheap but made good money. A miser of sorts.
He’d buy the cheapest box meals and use 1 ply TP
and didn’t have a TV or nothing like that. His furniture
smelt of sour ass and was made of old wood liable to break
any moment. He lead life behind the scenes, didn’t like
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being seen, always looking over his shoulder in public. He
sat eating his twenty cent soup from the pot with a plastic
fork which he probably picked up at a cafeteria he had
eaten at a month or two earlier.
The door slammed open.
“Fucking Christ man, why you got to bust in like
that?!”
“Shit, we’re fucked Jack!”
“What the fuck?” He stood up. “You fuck this up?”
“Man, they busted the Diamond.”
Dan Dakota, a.k.a. Danny the Diamond, a street kid
with nowhere else to go was now sitting downtown in a
holding cell. Started hanging out with the boys at the wharf
late last year, he didn’t name any names, he’s no rat.
“So I take it you didn’t get the dough?” Jacky
turned and looked down at the newspaper and carpet.
“No man, Danny got popped. I barely got away, had
to break out the back, I ran all the way here. Sal, that
bastard must have smelt trouble…”
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“Should have never fucking taken the risk, should
have known there’d be pigs, the Shark pool is fucking hot.
Fucking swine!” Jacky kicked the table leg, it broke and the
soup went flying.
He flashed red and poked Joe real hard in the chest
and said “You mother fucker, you did a real slop job here,
didn’t you? You go back there and find out exactly what
went wrong and if somebody squealed you find him and
you break his fucking legs before you bring him to me!”
His face went bright red. “You dig?!”
Joe lifted his hands and nodded.
“Now get the fuck out of my house.”
Joe walked out the door and Jacky swung it shut
behind him and shook his head. He put his hand to his
forehead and paused before grabbing a button up shirt,
tucking his revolver into his pants, and headed out the door.
Frank was the big boss, he lived in a two story
mansion on the west end. There were gardeners out front
and a maid answered the door.
“This is very unsettling, Jack.”
“Yeah boss, I know.”
DEIMOS
Frank changed his tone.
“Now you get me that money Jack, or I get your
balls on my mantle you got me?”
Joey was walking down the avenue towards the
Shark Pool, where the deal had gone wrong. Inside the
bartender pulled his shot gun.
“You got a lot of nerve showing back up here, Joe.”
“Look, I need to talk to Sal, he here?” Joe asked the
bartender.
“Sal ain’t here, ain’t seen him neither.”
He waived the gun motioning toward the door.
“Alright. I’m gone.”
Joey went to the wharf.
Sal was a fuck up. And he did a real bang up job at
it too.
According to Sammy the rat, who was the only one
at the wharf, the cops had showed up looking for Sal
because his girlfriend’s Ma had called the cops after he’d
robbed her place again. When Sal found out the heat was
onto him, he booked town. So said Sammy the Rat.
DEIMOS
Joe left the wharf and never came back, he didn’t
want any more of this business, and he’d had enough.
It was no way to raise his kid.
He felt bad for Danny sitting behind bars for this
whole mess, poor kid. Diamond wouldn’t do much time
though, the pigs would eventually give him a program and
probation and that’d be that.
After about a week Joe left town with his kid.
Jacky was pissed because he hadn’t heard news and
knew it would mean his balls. He was in back at home in
the middle of the night when three goons busted in and duct
taped his mouth shut, hog tying his hands and feet like an
animal.
They threw him in a body bag and carried him to
the trunk.
He struggled like a fish out of water but sunk like a
rock to the bottom of the bay when they threw him off the
wharf.
DEIMOS
PROJECT PROMETHEUS
Part one: The Deep Blue
Holes in the floor
Puddles of mercury
Shafts of light
Floating upward
Filling the soul
Those empty holes
Once stuffed with self - deceit
Made born again from such little faith
Grown from providence
Once slept in the night as do others
Now it is known
Sober and Serious
Child of light
The thief on the cross
In expectation of understanding
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To be blessed
The brethren hand in hand
Carrying the armor of God
Into a battle of spirits
Breaking the deceit
To meet at the edge of fate
Becoming a part of you
Through love and faith prevail
Pulled this design
Into the deep blue
There he was, walking through a party in his own
home, full of people he did not know. Or at least did not
recognize in all the detachment of night. Holes in the floor,
shafts of blue light shooting upward. He watched with
sullen eyes as the music faded and stumbling drunk girls all
the meager and last lingering fallen of a dying party. He
walked through the set of strangers out the back door.
The sun was on the rise over the autumn wood. A
bird fountain stood dry with a gray statue of a cherub in
fleeting stone hope. He walked off the property further into
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the fallen leaves and dry dirt. He looked down and saw his
body lying dead under some leaves. A dead tree rest over a
creek leading him back to the house.
Everyone is gone now.
He walked toward the room and its dark with some
light coming from under the door.
He opened it and shafts of light open up from the
floor like mercury to close and reopen again. The body is
past out on the bed, wide eyed in the doorway. The body
dreaming of an army of red armored horses flying through
the sky and being left on earth with walls crumbling
upward in magma scorching grounds where we left the
heart in the night.
All from the lived so long ago and now that’s gone.
Reality stays true. “I am my art” he says “and what we are
creating is me, watch as the muse pulls me through.” A
dead body.
They marched down the path toward the shore. One
could hear the ocean’s roar and the night sky was clear and
the stars and moon lay gently scattered in an indigo back
drop.
DEIMOS
Xy and Gen came out on a whim, they had their
back packs and a duffle bag with wood and some
newspapers for a fire. They stood at the cliff side before
walking down the wooden steps. Gen looked at him and
lifted his eyes and Xy smiled back at her.
The ocean waves flowing with all their glory. They
stared at the scene as they walked down, conversing how
happy they were to decide to come out to the coast. They
got to the shore and put their things by a log facing the
waters.
They each lit a cigarette and started to build the fire.
The wood came from a pile in the back yard and they
placed a few small twigs with the newspaper to start in the
shape of a pyramid, Gen lit it with her lighter.
They held their hands together and blew on it,
rearranging the little sticks to get it started. The yellow
flame started up and the kindling was lit. It cracked and
popped as it became fully enflamed. They added a few
larger logs and set it up to burn.
Xy lay down face first in the sand and Gen did the
same. The fire felt warm against the cold ocean air. The
sand flowed through their fingers as they dug their hands
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into it and watched the fire heat up. The flames went from
yellow to orange then red.
He sat up on the log facing the shore and watched
the fire burn. Smoke was carried up wind and the fire
cracked and all the logs were burning.
He lit another cigarette.
Gen, still lying on her stomach, sat up a little with
her arms in the sand.
They noticed the bright red and the deep orange and
blue in the pit of the flames. It was transforming into
different levels of brightness as the heat grew with the
wind.
Xy took a drag off his cigarette and when he was
done threw it into the flames and watched it burn and coil
into ash. Gen sat up on the log with him and smoked one as
well. They held each other in their arms.
They didn’t say much but agreed it was nice to get
away for a while.
As time went on the fire started to die down a little
as the logs went brittle and started to crumble into one
another.
DEIMOS
They decided to head back and go.
They threw some sand on the fire and flipped the
logs over.
The burning embers appeared purple and green
when the flames disappeared
They grabbed their bags, smoked a last cigarette
and watched the embers die and then walked back up the
wooden steps. They took one last look at the blue embers
from the cliff side with the oceans roaring in the wind and
walked to the car with deep sighs and drove home.
Chase held the flame real close to the beaker. It
glowed and lit his face up bright in the dark room. He
smiled with a look of expectation over at Xy.
“Check it out man.”
“That shit’s going to pop.”
Xy lay back in the recliner with his hand on his
head. “Dude….”
“Don’t be so interested man, it’s only the one things
that’s going to make tonight worth any while.”
DEIMOS
Xy got out of the chair and walked over to the desk
with the light.
“What is it?” He asked with esteemed curiosity.
“Oh just stuff that is going to get you higher than
the moon.” Chase laughed and smiled.
Xy looked down and shrugged and said “Alright.”
They stood outside in a clearing the trailer parked
off a ways. The light of the stars and moon shone down.
Chase spread his arms and looked up then sipped his
beaker. He wiped his chin and passed it to Xychron who
did the same. They finished it and went back inside.
Chase’s feet felt weightless as the gravel passed
under him. The green and the dull light from the flowers
around him shone in a lack of vibrancy.
His eyes went heavy as they walked back to the
trailer. A smile broke across their faces as the road passed
in a treadmill. The wind flowing through their hair.
The sun’s rays started to pick up in a bright orange
blind as they went into the light.
That morning they started to have a really intense
conversation.
DEIMOS
“She was talking about how she was mother Mary
and we were looking at this painting of Jesus. ‘His eyes
were a beautiful green, just like when I gave birth to him,’
she said. She also said she was Cleopatra in a past life and
talked about Alexander and all that. Very interesting
woman. But very insane at the same time.”
Xy looked at his friend in great interest. He hadn’t
known that his friend had spent time in a mental institution.
“You know that Nietzsche philosophy, the eternal
return, well there is another way of looking at it also. It’s
not that we are necessarily living the same life over and
over again but that each moment contains the possibility to
grasp something new, like every time. Every moment of
pain and happiness over and over. Every moment is
essentially the same moment.”
“Carpe diem.” Chase said as he sipped a beer.
“Cheers.” Xy lifted his glass.
“It’s like that saying live ‘til you die.”
“I think that when I buy hot sauce at the store.”
They both laughed.
DEIMOS
“I made that soup last week, the one we made the
recipe for.”
“Was it good?”
“Yea it was,” Chase seemed satisfied that he had
accomplished something. The cool sun was rising out the
windows of the trailer. “Lentils, potatoes, green beans,
kidney beans, corn, broccoli, carrots, garlic, all that stuff, it
was really good.”
“Sounds good.”
“I like doing good things. It’s like that one time we
left that restaurant and we helped that old couple who were
out of gas. It’s like that man.”
“Yea for sure, there are so many billions of people
around, but if you can just lend a hand to a couple people
you know you have done a good thing, a good job. Socrates
once said the only thing I know is that I know nothing at
all, and then someone went to the oracle a Delphi and asked
who is the wisest man, and she said that no one is wiser
than Socrates, so the wisest man really knows nothing at
all. It’s all about what you do for people.”
Xy sat up a little in his chair.
DEIMOS
“It is like a dream man.”
“It’s like a dream, but it’s like a lucid dream, when
we get to choose what’s next and we know we are
dreaming. And we have to know what the next right thing
to do is.”
“And that can be the hardest thing sometimes.”
Xy sat in the backseat of the station wagon as a
child, his mother was in the driver’s seat. They were
heading north on an ocean side hwy.
“Are we almost there?”
“Almost honey.”
Xy sat back and looked at the red cliffs pass by
through the window. The sky was clear and the sun shone
high.
“Do you see that cliff?”
“Uh-huh.”
“It is called squaw rock, legend has it that a long
time ago when only native people lived here a woman
found her husband had died and jumped off of the rock
down into the river to commit suicide.”
DEIMOS
Young Xychron stared up at the cliff side and down
into the blue water through the glass frowning. They
continued the drive.
Xy had a fairly normal childhood for a boy growing
up in the times. Camping trips, picnics, schools.
He met the woman of his dreams the year he
graduated, Gen. They would go on dates to restaurants and
flirt over tasty food. They would go to the river and float
downstream in a little canoe, see movies, and were
generally happy healthy young people in love.
DEIMOS
Part Two: Project Prometheus
Xy took the transit to the town center at seven am.
People didn’t seem any different, it was quite a normal day.
The world went on hustling and bustling as it always has in
and out of traffic lights, stopping and going. But there was
a heavy weight resting at the bottom of his stomach, he felt
slightly ill. None of it seemed to have any meaning any
more. It all felt so empty. Passed the main avenue he got
off and walked to the café. There was a man sitting on a
laptop. He seemed cool. Xy went in and got a cup of
coffee. He walked up to the guy on the computer.
“Mind if I sit here?”
“No man, feel free.”
“Right.”
He sipped his cup for a while and looked at the guy
typing away with his sunglasses on.
“You read the paper?”
“Nope.”
“Doesn’t surprise me, people lack information in
this age because they are so submerged in it. I highly
recommend you check it out my man.”
DEIMOS
“Okay?” Xy shrugged.
“Not interested in politics?” The man asked.
“Not especially.”
Xy sat at the table on the outdoor patio of the café.
It was a beautiful day. People rode by on bikes and cars
cruised by slowly.
“I am Daniel Aiden.” he sat across from him
smiling and closed the laptop.
“Man, these people really have got it out for the
world.” Daniel spoke with slight offense.
“What do you mean?” Xy asked curious, sitting up
in his chair.
“Well, look at it, they’ve got computers super
crunching peoples’ lives into minute logarithms
determining who is fit to succeed and who is expendable.
They’ve got everyone pinned to a super system of numbers.
Data bases on everybody down to the last purchase you’ve
made. All of your medical records, all your life stuck on a
binary equation. And when it comes down to it, they have
the say on whether or not you live and thrive or if your
numbers aren’t satisfactory, it goes to the next.
DEIMOS
Something had gone wrong with the world. So
much technology finally had dissolved into Project
Prometheus.
People knew it was coming for a long time, back
even to the New Testament and Revelation. People simply
go through the motions like any other citizen. Behind the
cars and jobs they are all blind.
Corporate interested in shared data bases of all your
information collected down to the dot. They take those
numbers and punch them in through the computer based on
a statistical log and determine what is next for you.
Who gets the new organ they need, how much you
pay for the same crap, what job you are eligible for and
how much money you are going to make and essentially
what you are going to spend it on.
Daniel made himself to be a rogue of sorts.
Relentlessly and secretly ever waiting for his in, for the
right moment to pounce.
“I guess I missed that class in high school.” Xy
spoke after the long pause.
DEIMOS
“Well, they’ve got you pinned. You know that little
card you carry everywhere you go. It is no joke. You need
it on the bus, you need it at building entrances, for
purchases, for a kidney, for ice cream.”
Aiden spoke and took off his sunglasses. He face
was white like ivory like he rarely came outside.
Xy considered the possibility that he might be a
systems hacker of some kind, probably nothing to serious
he assumed.
“With globalization and everything this is a serious
problem. A system needs diversity in order to thrive,
Project Prometheus lacks creativity and room for any sort
of catalyst for change and has brought mankind to a
stalemate.” He shook his head.
“You know this war is only for population control
right.”
Daniel stood up, stuffed his laptop into a back pack,
through it on and lit a cigarette.
“Well, nice chatting with you man, but I’ve got to
go.”
And he left.
DEIMOS
Xy sipped his coffee and looked down on the
ground.
Xychron woke up at a quarter to six. He took a hot
shower, smiled while he brushed his teeth and got dressed,
made some coffee and ate breakfast on the couch. He went
outside and grabbed the paper in the rising sun. He read an
article in the paper and quickly set it down and grabbed a
hat and walked out the door.
He caught the seven o clock transit and rode into the
inner metropolis. He slid his card at the gate and it opened
and he walked through the domed edifice. He took the
elevator to floor seventy-six.
He looked at his watch.
There was a strange man in the elevator giving him
odd looks, it made the hairs on the back of his neck warm
and he started to cringe in annoyance.
He walked onto the flat and looked around the
fountain, a few people were setting up shops. He walked in
a straight line with quick dashing movements.
DEIMOS
He arrived at a door in a hall and again put the card
in. He walked through. The war had been going on for
some time… he stared at his watch ticking down. The draft.
Later that evening Xy walked down the lamp lit
streets with the cold air blowing on the ground he stared at
the grime.
Advertisements peeling on the walls of the
downtown sector, he held his hands in his pockets with the
newspaper article crumpled within.
A man dressed in rags with a filthy blanket asked
him for change.
“No, I’m broke.” He lied.
A man in a uniform walked by in the crowd and the
face grew sour staring through him. Walking faster to the
restaurant to meet Gen, this meant him and he knew it.
When he had gone in this morning to her office
where she worked, they all stared at him. He was so upset
and Gen didn’t even know yet. She almost started to cry but
couldn’t because it would appear unprofessional. They’d
made arrangements for dinner.
DEIMOS
Xychron sat on the couch and his face fell into his
hands and tears filled them.
Gen walked into the room.
She looked at him and her face grew soft and she
put her hands together before her and started to open her
mouth but stopped herself and kept it quiet and paced back
and forth behind him, she didn’t know what to say.
Xy sighed deep and wiped his wet hands onto his
pants.
He turned around and saw her standing there.
He stood up and she walked up to him.
She rubbed his tears into hers and they kissed.
“I feel helpless.”
In the old days the world seemed so benign and the
spring times were magical, and carefree. Gen was the new
girl in town and Xy was in love with hopes and ambitions.
When they weren’t in love together they were in
love apart.
Everyone seemed to carry smiles with them.
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The rain would fall on houses at night and lamp
lights in the night and his mother would read by the fire and
his father was still around.
There was a small cozy circle of friends and
everything was free and easy.
So long.
The wind came up and blew all that away with the
tide of war.
Fading memories as he left for the front lines.
The real life only tears held back in his cold eyes.
Xychron stood in line, the general screaming
discipline at their young faces. Telling them of what is to
come. They stood like a row of vineyards for the crop.
They’re faces strong and hard from camp.
The man stopped and slowed his speech and told
them of honor and the glory staring through them all. He
made a signal and they screamed together. Xy stood silent
amongst the ranks. The sound reached its peak and they
marched through the portal into the next level of the dome
and into battle.
DEIMOS
People can’t change the way they feel miles apart.
So hopeless. To drown in this over kill, the pain of being so
far away takes hold, will be bliss.
What’s the use?
Fight and it makes no difference. Crawling. He
knows he is right and the wrongs are so apparent. He sees
his reflection in the cool blood and tears in the dead man’s
eyes.
A ripple of pain across the blue uniform and alone
across time he thinks of her forever. So he asks aloud
“What is love?”
The explosions and screaming continued and he
opened his eyes to the roaring thunder of bullets around
him. He stared with his cold blue eyes at the deep reflection
of night as the man lay there stiff. Napalm behind him he
runs away in his deep blue uniform out through the dome
and into his destiny.
Later lying in the cold. Not wanting to die alone. A
night wind blowing through the cold. A street lamp in the
dome calls to him and there’s dark water in the gutter.
Trees lit on fire in the distance. An old newspaper in the
grass. He thought about it but it was too risky. They could
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still be firing. Suicide whispers its fantasy and of summers
to come. He knew it was a death camp of some sort by
now, war games for numbers, for population control, he
figured no one made it out alive.
Intuition tells him to know better and try to win the
game, and the instinct to survive kicks in. To live on.
Back at home Daniel Aiden was simply going
through the daily motions, nice car, nice job, waiting for
the moment to pounce. Project Prometheus was in full
effect with the draft. There was no saying what was next.
He’s becoming more and more frustrated every day, all he
needed was an in and to find the right person. Sure, a lot of
people were pissed off, but no one with an in.
DEIMOS
Part Three: Nova Deltree
Gaia Summon: In an age of corrupt politics and
chaotic metropolis, the masses march like ants in a
bureaucratic mess blind or indifferent to the sheer
destruction of it all from deforestization to mass
extinctions, climate crises powered by control calendars
enslaving people to perpetuate their own wealth hiding the
truth revealing their lies peeling we must rise up through
the cracks in the concrete and the spirit of terra because she
will live on whether or not we choose to.
Chase stood at the water’s edge staring into the
setting sun. A million blinding pinholes poked through as
he shut his eye lids in frustration. His head pulled back to
the fading light as if by gravity, he couldn’t look away. He
was in a trance and high. Some people were laughing
throwing a disk back and forth behind him. For a moment
he thought he might know them, but no… smiling as the
sun fell to twilight. They were strangers again.
He couldn’t trust anyone. He was avoiding the draft
and would have to turn himself in for insanity before his
number was up. An institution is better he thought. He
turned to look and the people were gone and the sun was on
its way out.
DEIMOS
Chase felt still as he put his hands together on his
bare chest. He walked back to the car and threw on a
hoodie.
Is this it?
He put on some music for the ride home.
As he was driving he got the call. One last fix
before he’d go in.
He picked up the ringing phone.
“Yea?”
“35? Alright I’ll be there in a half hour.”
He sped up the car and went to score.
He tossed and turned in an itchy wretched fix that
night, wondering if they’d have anything for withdraw in
the hospital.
Frost white cold and alone, shooting away the truth.
Painlessly she floated away on a dried red melted wax lily
deeper into an ocean of milky white lies. As night falls the
sun sinks down the horizon and sherbet twilight rays of
dawn reflect on the surface of the vast sea, and then
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darkness consumes us and the constellations break apart
into fragments collapsing on the placid waters.
The stars sink one by one racing toward the bed of
the ocean, where the sands of time are born. Flash back to
an age when things were simpler, sitting in the meadow
under the oak that spring waiting for the summer to spread
its wings, and he knew everything’s going to be okay. Like
a dove flying face forward into the sun. He tossed and
turned in his bed.
“It’s medication time…”
“Medication time…”
The soft soothing noise over the P.A. Chase hopped
out of the bed in his pajamas and walked over to the desk
with the woman behind the window. She passed him a pill
in a cup. He let the pill melt under his tongue then sipped
some water and let it dissolve. He got back into bed.
Xy ducked behind a blown over craft. Bullets flew
by and explosions sounded all around him. He peaked his
head out but smoke filled his eyes. He crouched back
behind the rolled over tank and reloaded his weapon.
Taking a deep breath he poked his head out, all seemed
clear. He ran out and ducked behind a burning building. He
DEIMOS
looked around. Max was waving him on. He met Max in
boot camp and they’d been partners since. Xy caught up to
him.
“Alright Xy, it’s go time, we’re busting into this
spot right here, we’ve got some hiding out shooting at us.
Just be careful and use your head man…you ready?” Max
held his weapon tightly against him, his life line.
Xychron nodded his head.
Max kicked the door in and held his machine gun
tight into the building as they went in.
He waved Xy into another room and went up the
stairs.
Xy poked around the corner and walked down a
hall. A couple doors were at the end. He stepped lightly
across the filthy floor with his weapon in front of his self,
he could hear people whispering in some language in one
of the doors. Gun shots from upstairs, Xy turned his head
and two men came running out of the room at the end of
the hall. He shot them both and watched them die for a
second. That was all it took. His face started to turn.
DEIMOS
“You alright man.” Max yelled coming back down
the stairs.
“Yea… Let’s Go.”
They moved on.
Gen worked as a secretary for one of the top dogs.
She had no opinions about the ethics of her job. Not until
her boyfriend got drafted that is. At first she was just
solemnly depressed. Then she was scared when he left.
After he was gone is when the anger took hold. The
frustration got so bad she decided to do something about it.
After work one day she went to a local café. She
saw a man with a laptop sitting there with sunglasses on.
He seemed of no interest at first so she went in and ordered
a coffee.
As she went to sit down she got a closer look, she
noticed the screen on his laptop. He looked over his
shoulder at her and started to pack his things and go. She
waited for him to leave before getting in her car and
following him.
As he pulled into his gate she took the address
down.
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At home she looked it up.
Daniel Aiden.
A computer programmer.
She nodded her head and smiled a sinister grin.
The logo on the monitor was something she’d seen
before.
It was a symbol for underground revolutionaries.
It looked like a red stamp of a circle with a plus sign
in it.
The astrological symbol for Earth, or Terra, or Gaia.
She first ran into it after Xy left and she found
herself walking around downtown. Near a pawn shop she
bummed some change to a street kid who had the patch on
his backpack. She had asked about it and that is what the
kid had said.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it.
She’d gone into the pawn shop and bought firearm.
A nice and clean chrome magnum. She knew it would
come in handy at some point. She just didn’t know when.
But now she’d found her man, Daniel Aiden.
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Her smile was lit up by the screen.
She searched further for the website of
revolutionaries but couldn’t find anything.
He must have some encryption on it.
She knew this meant they were a team.
She drove back to his address and left a note in his
mail box before the gate.
Daniel was looking out the window at the time.
Who was she? He thought. Hadn’t I seen her earlier,
he wondered.
He knew this was something good, what he’d been
looking for.
He’d have to wait until the next day to check, it was
too suspicious otherwise.
Xychron stared at the puddle forming under him.
Max stood over him for a second yelling something, then
he ran off into the distance. It was a bullet. He could feel it
in his side as he clenched his teeth.
He tried to fight it, but the pain sunk in and he fell
silently into shock. The battle continued around him and he
DEIMOS
could hear to fury of war as he huddled into a ball. He
thought of his mother and then thought of Gen His face fell
peaceful in the blood. A smile left marked cold on his face
as the blood grew deeper and the war began to fade away
all into the deep blue eyes.
Daniel Aiden got up that morning and walked
outside and lit a cigarette, he grabbed his mail as usual. He
put out the cigarette on the porch and walked back inside.
He read the note with great satisfaction. This woman
worked for them, she definitely had access to the Project
Prometheus database. He smiled and tore it up and threw
the note away after memorizing the address and time
written on it.
Max stood alone in a field after the death of his
friend. There in the night the flying crosses strewn across
his life and dreams. We’ll meet again someday. Aero
planes and admiring the beauty of the horses fenced in. The
wild desire and drive behind their eyes, fiercely beautiful.
Such strong grace and God’s elegant patience and guides
that are life. The light within us all is in you too, friend.
Just remember the way we were, when in battle, we were as
one. A team. The unified spirit will burn triumphant and to
your glory. There is this fear in the heart. The fear of not
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making it. Just know that you can watch above, learn to
love that life. You were so young, had only begun. God’s
light was in those eyes, signs are clear, nothing to fear.
Daniel showed up at the lobby just after dark, like
the note said. He went into the bar and waited on a stool
and ordered a drink.
It only took a few minutes for her to walk up, she
tapped him on the shoulder and he waited a second before
getting up to follow.
In the elevator he said “Oh, now what?”
“I can get you into the computer with the access
codes for the central database. But the system is secure so
you’re going to have a hell of a time getting into it, you are
going to need to give it everything you’ve got. I don’t know
how much time you will have, so you’ll have to be quick.”
“No problem, I’ve prepared for this with years of
experience hacking systems. Plus I’ve devised quite the
virus, I know it’s penetrable to even this system.”
“Good, we’ll need it.”
DEIMOS
They walked into the office where Gen has her
desk. She opened the door in the main office where a
leading general held his desk.
A view of the vast night city, Daniel hesitated
checking out the beauty of the scattered city lights out the
huge window.
“Hurry. I’ll stand guard at my desk. The access
code should be written on a note on the desk.”
Daniel shuffled with his jacket where he had the
disk with the hack. He found the note Gen was talking
about and accessed the system. Then he uploaded the virus.
That was it. That simple.
He pulled out the disk and walked back out the
door.
Gen was standing there with the general standing
right before them.
“Call security.” the general spoke seriously and
began to approach Daniel.
“Who the hell are you?”
“Hands up.” Gen held out the magnum aimed
directly toward her boss.
DEIMOS
“Get on the fucking ground.” She yelled and
clenched her jaw and tilted her head in seriousness and kept
the gun toward his head as the general knelt and lay on the
ground.
“Let’s go.”
She put the gun away as they ran out the door and
back into the elevator.
“He’ll call security…” Gen spoke in fear.
“What do we do?”
“Don’t worry.”
“Let’s get off here. The lobby will surely have
security waiting.”
They stopped the elevator on the 5th floor and they
got out.
First thing he did was check the walls.
He ran through the hall and pulled the first fire
alarm.
Best to hide in mass hysteria he figured.
They got out through the crowd of people running
out the building and down the street.
DEIMOS
He waved down a taxi and they got in.
“Motel on 32nd.”
Daniel let out a sigh of great satisfaction.
“Finally.”
That night Gen and Daniel shared life stories. Aiden
realized he had met her boyfriend and Gen was shocked
and demanded to know all about it. She spoke of hope of
seeing him again, little did she know he had already passed.
They were on the run. Fugitives.
Max read the article in the paper, still frustrated at
his partners death, and instantly recognized her name. It
said that they could reboot Project Prometheus, but it could
take up to three weeks.
Just enough time, he thought.
He’d risen in rank.
He now had a pilot’s license.
He gathered up a group of disgruntled soldiers.
It would be mutiny, but with the collapse of Project
Prometheus. A revolution might just work.
DEIMOS
They hijacked over two dozen aircraft.
When word got out other pilots started joining in.
They flew directly toward the all the major cities
with all the major Project’s databases.
There wasn’t much the government could do with
the system hacked, especially with morale so low. They
were their own enemies. The war was a global effort at war
games, killing for the sake of killing, people knew and were
sick of it.
They attacked in full force and watched them burn
before the system could be restarted.
They had succeeded in destroying Project
Prometheus.
Max stood gazing out over the city that lay in
destruction of war in deep thought. His eyes were cast deep
into the burning horizon. The sun born high in the sky, the
heat glistening on his skin. His uniform was heavy and he
wore a disgusted look as he scanned the wreckage. He
thought of the sun set to come and figured he’d wait on the
hill. He pulled out some rations and started to eat. He’d felt
like an older brother to Xy, he had made him proud today.
DEIMOS
His girlfriend would be fine, he thought. He had been a true
friend through this pointless war. They’d both been drafted
and both had the same attitude about it. Most the men were
like them at this point. Death and futility, yet men still
marched in duty.
It was finally coming to an end.
The revolution had happened.
Now it was just a matter of rebuilding.
People had learned.
Society would know better, he thought.
At sunset, Max walked down the hill towards the
burning city.
He thought it beautiful, all of the world’s numbers
burning up into flames.
The towers
Heat and ember
Settling rubble
A cold wind blows
The flag left hanging from poles
DEIMOS
Stood for something else today
Babylon burning
Confusion self evident
The unexpected crash, sedition
To birth a new world
A rebel soldier watching the blaze put out his
cigarette into the dirt and watched the smoldering ash take
form.
DEIMOS
The Mousetrap
On the summit of a grassy mount surrounded by
vast woodlands the erupting spires and primeval
architecture of the castle lay hidden by the trees.
Great and horrid gargoyles mount the turrets, rain
dripping down their demon faces swelling in the dark.
Inside of a dimly lit study.
I am an apothecary, just a young denizen yet of
powerful family, mixing a potion of an opium tincture and
sitting by an open fire in a grand arm chair.
I take a sip.
I set my drink on the side table picking up a book as
the light of the fire flickers shadows on the wall.
Looking out the window at a flash of lighting,
thunder strikes and I put my head in my hand, distressed.
I got the idea to poison my uncle while reading
Hamlet by the fire light in the study.
The part with the play within the play where the
player king is poisoned by his nephew.
It’s called the Mousetrap.
DEIMOS
My father was assassinated nearly a year ago during
a speech he gave on the reshaping of the worlds order and
social construct, which many found to be too socialist and
extremely radical.
I am sure it was a set up.
I watched on television as a bullet flashed through
the skull, he fell from the podium like a limp fish.
My first thought was a flash back to the discussion
we’d had over policy only a week prior.
My uncle, the new monarch, has views in direct
opposition to his father’s, his brother’s, as well as my own.
In his year as sole monarch he has managed to
reverse all of the work and progress made for the people of
the world by my father.
In the late Age of Aquarius, our family rose to
absolute power over earth and the planet became under the
rule of a single monarch.
Centuries of war had come to an end.
Countries had already been replaced by greater
unions after the globalization of the twenty second century.
DEIMOS
But still for so long wars were waged and poverty
and hunger remained unsolved in many places.
My father worked on reversing these social
problems and creating a freer world.
The family has essentially solely dictated the
world’s policy for over two centuries.
We are literally untouchable by anyone else who
may be seeking real power.
It has just simply systematically been made
impossible.
But like a black hole or a nasty computer virus or
rotting fruit from the tree every once in a while something
or someone is introduced into a system in attempt to
sabotage and in turn devour all the functions and facets that
make it work.
The new monarch, the eldest great grandson of the
great patriarch that first took charge was expected to take
the throne upon the former monarch’s death.
But then it was left to his youngest more liberal son
to reign in hopes for greater change in the world’s
assembly.
DEIMOS
It was unexpected and went against historical
traditions, but this was a new world.
The eldest brother, my uncle, was left devastated in
disbelief with a sworn secret grudge, I know it.
And that is why it must be him who’d planned my
father’s assassination.
It is the only logical conclusion I could come up
with.
Sure others had motives but they lack the initiative
and power and more importantly anything substantial to
gain.
As monarch he has increased imprisonment
worldwide, making money off of what is practically slavery
and reverted to an almost KGB like police state in this
postmodern world.
More money is going into researching new
techniques on brainwashing than solving poverty and
hunger.
Civil war is inevitable.
DEIMOS
The family has worked very hard to make this an
unlikely future for man, but here is one man from within
making it happen.
He has to be taken down.
I sip my opium tincture contemplating the
mousetrap, poisoning my uncle in the study.
Revenge tickles the hairs on my neck as I close my
eyes in pleasure.
I will poison him…at which point I will claim the
throne.
DEIMOS
9/11
And at this point years down the line, there are
actually a hell of a lot of people that agree with that
statement he made as a sixteen year old kid. But not
necessarily a conspiracy, more of a collusion of powers to
fuck us all, many are offended by the question, but aren’t
there no stupid questions? If one were to look at human
history and its tendency to repeat itself it only makes
perfect sense.
The web-site, inspired by a random occurrence at a
shindig, was the Mecca of their youth. After school and
weekends they all spent submitting writing and artwork to
their little click. Narcissism and mellow drama, insanity
and freedom of expression.
Looking back youth fades away sweeter and
sweeter with age. Do the shores of death beseech… shall
this light shine on through the ages in creative influence
and love, will they satisfy ever the longing for immortality?
Is this journey too towering, is fate peeling by the hour, this
ticking grandfather clock of mortal entropy from birth and
downward? Is it fate that intimidates by the hour or is just
the releasing of the past as pure illusion that is sending us
down this serpentine? Is the eternal return to be ephemeral
DEIMOS
ignorance on the part of one’s own neglect or should people
just embrace gratitude and go buy the books?
It was another weekend in town. They were kicking
it at a shindig at Peter’s, his folks had left town. It was
probably about 10 or 12 students. They all had the peculiar
habit of smoking copious amounts of marijuana on a daily
basis, and this night was no exception, along with musical
instruments and a four track recorder.
Peter was in the bedroom shooting an “Air
Bazooka” at everyone, in survival mode, “Don’t ask, don’t
tell…”
A couple sat flirting in the den, and there was a jam
session. A few stragglers had the Attack of the Munchies.
The sound of low crunchy guitars and grunge post rock
from the stereo throughout the kitchen. A tray of marijuana
cookies lay on the counter top, later to be eaten by the dogs
and home boy Peter’s mom upon return the next day. Some
horror sci-fi film was on the TV; Saul was passed out at the
kitchen table having a nightmare.
Saul can’t seem to finish school as he selfishly
educates his self through his own inexperience and
insanity. His own narcissism and self-absorption is
DEIMOS
spreading its behavior to those around him and it is
somewhat alluding and effecting him. He can’t tell if it’s
just his over active sublime imagination or reality.
Idols twilight into the reality of stranger’s
daydreams walking by on the concrete. He wants them to
see, it isn’t fair if they don’t… right? To know it is all
going wrong, though he holds no moral dilemma with it, he
truly finds it funny.
This self chosen plague he has released. He doesn’t
know how he’s done it, or if it is truly his own making at
all…perhaps it is simply a 3rd party working through him.
Wouldn’t say it is fair to rule out either possibility.
How do you exorcise an atheist: “Ummmm, here
your evil possessions, which will be $9.99….? Not Christ,
and not necessarily the anti-Christ, rather trying to explain
that one shouldn’t have to die to see truth with it all so
apparent. Material death is over rated, who says one can’t
die when you are “technically” alive. Realizing the “return
of Saturn” to the birth stage is at 28.6 years Earth time, the
orbit of Saturn around the sun, falls almost exactly on this
date 12/21/2012. Laughing at the twenty twelve paranoids
is a regular leisure activity of their circle of friends. They
attempt mystery sci-fi theatre 3000, making jokes, to the
DEIMOS
scariest movie ever, The Exorcist, Saul gets sick to his
stomach and nearly vomits.
He gets pulled over and the cop arrests him, calls
him an “idiot” right?
In court the cop says “I pulled him over at
approximately 2:04 a.m.”
Then Saul asks “Did you call me an idiot when you
pulled me over?”
Under oath.
“Did you call me an idiot?”
“I don’t recall,” with his beady little eyes and
skinned head.
Judge rules in Saul’s favor.
Damn right.
That cop was a punk, a real prick, and his buddy
that pulled up after him was a creep. Short blonde gelled
hair and glasses, with a white arm band on his wrist, looked
like he was a little too into world of war craft on his time
off or like he thought he was a real void mage. Could see it
DEIMOS
in his face, they were both pretty young cops, power
hungry pricks, that’s all.
They tortured him in booking with an electrocuting
magnetic conditioning rod.
But the cop sitting at the desk at the lower level of
the station downtown where they do booking was freaky.
Saul stared at him as he just sits there just staring aimless
into void stroking his fat mustache and twitching his face.
Looked like Nietzsche on a really bad day.
Once working security a homeless buddy under a
bridge was being gripped by a skin headed piggy and Saul
was pissed because there wasn’t anything he could do, so
he just went up to him and told him that this was his
security site and asked him if he should put this in the
report, subtly hinting at the abuse of the homeless friend in
his fists.
All he said was “No I have it taken care of,” but he
looked shocked that he’d even ask and he settled a little on
the dude.
“Fucking cops.”
DEIMOS
Not to say that they are all bad. But the bad ones
tend to be really bad.
Like this one dude literally must have thought he
was one of those robot cops from the movies, wants to
enforce the third degree for driving home late after a long
day and dealing with a flat tire. Insisting on questions of
alleged lack of sobriety, complete bullshit, he just needed
some sleep at the house two blocks away.
Muttering under his breath “Fucking cops,” as he
insisted he follow his prick finger with his eyes. “Do you
have a problem with me ensuring your safety?”
Twenty plus city cops drive down Main Street on a
Thursday night in about five minutes, there was about five
or six vehicles that weren’t police. Enough is enough, he
thinks, can’t use a cell phone without a headset without
going to jail but cops can have a shot gun and be focused
on their laptop while driving trying to fuck people because
they went to the police academy for a few months?
DEIMOS
Exorcism of an Atheist
“Have you taken your anti-hyperdiskinetics today?”
They were in one of the offices in the hospital.
Peter looked at the Dr. through wide bewildered
eyes.
What the fuck did he just say?
In Movias eyes the Cyclopean visions began to
form in his dilated vision, the deep abyss, an isle of nothing
in an ocean of empty space ebony blue and green. The Dr.
stood with his arms cross in stilted and desperate
expectation.
“Saul!”
Saul was lost in the thought again, people’s urgency
with time, and the atomic uniformification of time. It was
day light savings last week, and all this unnatural
metamorphoses of people lives, based on some theory.
Science knows better, look at the basics of quantum; to
observe is to alter.
His voice spired to an echo in Saul’s ear drums.
The Cyclops’ eye spoke to Ulysses, high and
mighty on his ivy throne of stained marble. Icy cold blues
and reds, like frozen lakes. Ulysses thought that he might
get away without so much as this, but yet again, his fate got
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the better of him.
“Who are you?”
“Saul…”
Later in the cafeteria of the sanitarium.
“People used to worship electricity, you know.”
He poured his bowl of lime Jell-O down his throat.
“You know, at least we get Jell-O.”
“I don’t get your point, bro who cares about the
Jell-O?”
“Then I can have yours right?”
“C’mon, play one game of cards with me.”
Saul ate the second bowl of Jell-O, watermelon,
bomb.
The Doctor jotted a few notes onto his clipboard
with his gold pen. He always kept it in his white coat
pocket. He carried it like an award or trophy.
“Well, Saul… if this is how you are going to
behave, we will just have to see to it that you lose your
reading privileges.”
“I don’t read.” The patient replied.
“Look, you’ve been here three weeks now and
you’ve barely said a word, now have you or haven’t you
been taking your meds? And we have to monitor you here,
and no, yes, in fact you do read… quite a bit…” the doctor
DEIMOS
looked down at the patient in condescending pleasure in a
matter of fact tone said “to the contrary besides the time
spend sleeping you continually have a book on your person.
And in those blue pajamas, it is very apparent. See, you
have a book on you now, it is just closed at your side.”
Dr. Movias leaned in a little, Saul tucked away.
Movias eyes stared deep into the glasses or the
bearded bipedal hominid before him, and smiled.
“Of course not.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Who wants to know, Movias? I’ll be real with you,
this is not really where I belong, all those heavy tranq meds
make people crazy, not the other way around, and you have
to understand that, okay. You can’t go around forcing
people to take things they don’t want or need to take. In my
opinion your degree to do that means nothing to me. I
choose not to take them.” He shrugged.
“Ha. Well, Umm, that’s the thing, here, where you
are you, well…you don’t have that choice. The fact is you
we’re brought here.”
“Fuck you man!”
Saul stood up and slugged the Dr. in his crooked
face two times.
DEIMOS
Movias recovered quite quickly, as if this had
happened before or he’d seen it coming, almost instantly he
pulled a transmitter from his coat and called:
“Security.”
Sometime down the line, Movias is in his superior’s
office reviewing Saul’s report subject for review for
moving onto phase two of his treatment, reintegration into
society.
“Besides his stubborn attitude about cooperating
with our requirements about the medications, he has
actually been very polite and civil. I personally am not even
sure he’s actually crazy.” Frank Bellingham spoke with a
calm collectedness and had an aura of peace in this sanctity
of his office.
“With all due respect Frank, he punched me in the
face.” Movias held his bruised mug with his left hand as if
adjusting it into place.
“Well, that’s true, and I have taken that into
consideration.”
“Crazy is a broad term Frank.”
Frank, the head of the department stroked his chin,
Dr. Movias, stiff in the wooden chair sat before the desk.
His face twitched a little as he watched Frank considering
Saul, the fucking prick punk kid who’d punched him in the
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face, and his possible early release. His lip rose a little in
cynicism and spite.
…
Months later, reintegrated into the world Saul is
with a buddy, Peter, who also did some time in the
sanitarium:
“Movias is the crazy one, I know there’s something
wrong with this dude, you could see it in his face, and he’d
do this thing with his eye like he was tweaking out.”
“Hahaha oh yeah, I remember that shit, it’d be all
moving around on its own when he’d be asking all those
absurd questions and junk. I bet he was all jacked on Meds
he prescribed himself or something, he was too creepy and
weird not to be all fucked up on something. Dude, the only
good thing about that place was they had Jell-O and you
could play cards.”
“Hahaha, the Jell-O.”
They walked on for a minute in silence.
Peter hit the joint and exhaled the smoke into the
dawn air, walking down the rails of the track while the first
meager rays of the morning sun peaked through the ebbing
overcast, the metal of the train tracks with puddles of dew
on the rust from the winter cold overnight.
They’d been spending time together again.
DEIMOS
“Good, I thought I was the only one who noticed
that. Pass that yonder.”
They reached out their hands as they walked and
Saul hit the herb, a look of hope in his eyes as the sun
reflected off their hooded sweatshirts yawning in the
dissolving winter’s twilight.
DEIMOS
The Mark of Cain
The smell of the fall harvest blew through the
Indian summer air. The sun, orange and fiery red stood
high in the sky, burning and churning heat down to the dry
fields below that stretched for miles, rows of crop to be
stored for winter. The lines of wheat, vegetables and vines
were drawn from the ground before the house of Cain.
The wood dark and aged, stood high over the earth.
A dry breeze was picking up and Cain was out back
sharpening his scythe on a stone wheel he spun with his
foot. Sparks of yellow and red shot from the metal as the
sweat dripped down his back, he wiped his brow and pulled
the scythe from the stone running his finger along the curve
of the blade; he sucked the blood with his tongue.
Abel, across the fields, lived in a grove with his
sheep; he herded them toward Cain’s house. He wished to
speak to him; thinking they might have some words to
exchange after God’s judgment of their sacrifices.
“Hello brother, how are we doing today?” Abel
smiled to his brother as he approached him with his flock.
“I’m fine.” Cain bit into an apple from one of his
trees and looked coldly into his brothers eyes.
DEIMOS
“Did you have something you wanted to speak with
me about?” Abel ran his fingers through his hair, his sheep
huddling around him.
A dead leaf fell to the ground from the tree beside
them, as the wind grew stagnant. Cain lifted his eyes to his
brother
“Yeah, why do you think God favors you over me?
Honestly, you’d just let the world go to waste, wouldn’t
you prefer to wield its resource and store for winter to gain
more power to create a better life for the future?”
Cain stood tall, holding the fruit in his fist toward
his brother staring into his eyes, his eyebrows lifted.
“Well, in my opinion, I feel we can just live in
peace. We don’t need to work fields, toiling day in day out
for nothing. All we need we have, and as far as the future
goes, have you not all you need here now?”
The breeze blew and Abel stood smiling
complacent with his flock huddled with him.
The wind started to pick up again as Cain walked to
and fro in the field before his brother, considering a counter
to his brother’s response.
DEIMOS
“Well, to be real, today is just fine, but to work the
land is something I prefer, to work a hard day’s labor is a
good thing. And for God to prefer your offering of living
with and like animals is pathetic to me. You sacrificed
nothing, I feel like all the hard work I’ve done in my fields
will reap the greater reward. And that is why I am going to
kill you, for the greater good of Man.”
He pulled out his scythe and held it before him, the
sun shining on the blade as the light hit from the orange
horizon in the distance.
“So, you plan to kill me then?”
Abel stood indifferent,
“Well, I am at peace with my life, Cain. But first let
me tell you, my people will fall away by your hands; man
will no longer live with and for the earth, but for
themselves. And the planet and God’s world will mean
nothing. Your opinion of right and wrong is insufferable in
your eyes, you insist on being right, and with the world in
your hand people will remain at constant war with one
another, and those who live this way will die this way. God
will mark you, and your people will inherit the earth with
this mark. The mark of Cain. ”
DEIMOS
Abel held his shepherds rod, his white robe flowing
in the dying breeze, his admonishing gaze sullen to the eyes
of his brother.
Cain froze a moment considering the words Abel
had just spoke, he tossed the apple core to the ground and
said:
“So be it, but recognize God favors me if I kill you,
and thereby I will change the definition of God, because
you will be dead and God will, with his gracious hand,
mark my posterity to work the Earth. And my vision for
agriculture and the future of the world will come to fruition
by the hand of man, not by the hand of God. Abel, you will
die, and your ideas will perish, because my people will
exterminate your following. It is the way it is, I am going to
shed your blood on these fields and man will reap what is
sown. Father, Mother, Adam and Eve, from the Garden of
Eden lived in your manner, in peace under the hand of God,
and what came of it? God expelled them in the end for
eating the serpent’s truth, and you who choose to please
God, will die, will be murdered and I, Cain shall rise up
and those who descend from me will carry the power of the
knowledge of Good and Evil to work for humanity as God.
The mark of Cain.”
DEIMOS
Cain’s black hooded robe stood still in the twilight
of the setting sun as their argument reached its peak, the
stars beginning to appear in the heavens, his face cold and
dark, the scythe at his side, yielding for the right moment
for bloodshed.
“And why is that? Because you believe you know
right from wrong?” Abel asked him.
“That is absolutely right.” The sun sank to darkness,
the clear night sky towered above them.
“And what will happen in the end? Will you not kill
yourself too with this mentality of everything is for me to
wield and control?” Abel questioned. “What of the Earth
itself, will you not work it to death until humanity itself is
forced to nothing? Do you suppose God will tolerate your
revolution to its final course? If you kill my people’s ideas
of living with and for God, won’t your people with this
conquering mentality of consuming the earth, in the end kill
themselves off in recourse to killing the earth?”
“You use words as if they meant something, they
mean nothing. The only meaning is in action, you are
through.”
DEIMOS
Cain lifted the scythe, cutting his brothers head off
leaving it dead in the fields. His body fell to the fields
flowing warm blood into the cold ground.
Cain stood wearing his dark hooded robe, scythe in
hand. The harvest moon in the night sky laid rest over the
fields, death bowed its head and walked away, the body
deteriorated, first the flesh, then the bone, until nothing was
left but dirt. The mark of Cain.
DEIMOS
Xtullu Deathtrap
The lullaby arose with the tentacle monster from the
sea. Aeon dreaming to the prayers of his enslaved
followers. Bodies rotting in catacombs in vast underwater
cities arrayed in labyrinths of human coral, the lost sunken
continent of Lumeria.
People had a gut feeling long before it actually
happened, no one talked about it but we all kind of knew.
The army of beings from the sky came later, like a swarm
of armed locust. Those not enslaved were left scattered and
slaughtered.
Me, and my crew of men are some of the only
survivors with an ounce of humanity left in us. We are a
team of scientists, survivalists and the wealthy. What I have
seen is our numbers fall and those like us follow the same
pattern. I am being sent on the sole mission of finding
Ktullu for possible destruction and if not to bring back my
findings.
Humanities will soon be a faded memory on the
scar of our history that too shall disappear into
insignificance that is space times’ infinitely threading
reality. The Death Drones were the machines created by tax
DEIMOS
dollars in military arms research. A sound structure and
tonal logistics created for mind control and thus absolute
power. A sound theory by MX. KABEL proved that if a
distinct sound chart construed (a440) and image color table
to use these tables crossed with brainwashing techniques
recognized in the past, such as Orwellian newspeak (black-
white).
One could theoretically with mass media
technologies such as television and computer control the
masses like Pavlovian dogs drooling for whatever effect
desired. Death drones came when the science was mastered
emitting constant control frequencies in barely audible
tones, some terribly low and others awkwardly high and off
pitch, almost visible too. People saw colors differently, and
time began to spin faster and faster as it moved forward
infinitely linear in the end as the seasons grew closer
together due to the carbon emissions of… well, us. The
colors of the heavens changing is what is actually said to be
possible to awake the beast.
Ktullu is said to lay dreaming at the depths of the
pacific. He is said to be like a giant octopus but made not
having standard squid like qualities. Rather being made of a
substance similar to bone marrow. We figured if anything a
DEIMOS
form of cancer might be able to kill the thing before he
arises and destroys us all.
We stare outside our lab up at the desolate heavens
as the constellations stand bright in my eyes the greater
bear and as satellites blink slowly. The heavenly bodies
spinning in the shadows of darkness which is the empty
space.
People get older and ages pass, civilizations evolve
and empires fall, but how did we stray so far as for this, the
summoning of an evil greater than ourselves to enslave us
and destroy us. People worked for centuries all day every
day for peanuts to perpetuate the wealth of miniscule
percentage of humanity. For too long and their greed finally
caught up with them. But they had to try to ruin it for
everybody, and all of posterity. “The End” they ranted in
churched and states “The end” in groups and all alone in
rooms or cells or down the street, laughing out of fear,
existential regret and that all it adds up to is entropy. And
devolution.
The death drones sped up the process of the
summoning of the ancient ones, Ktullu’s Minions. The
slumber once rocked became violent until one day it finally
woke. Rising to the surface monstrous and seeking
DEIMOS
vengeance.
A machine for decay slowly digesting pain. On the
other side I see my scars still burn the same the light at the
end of the tunnel has me caught like a deer in headlights
behind to flee the machines of GOD to decapitate with
platinum swords onto the next with my head in the flames.
I joined my body and fell into the dream.
So many nights I fell asleep cursing so many nights
I woke up screaming so many mornings I crawled helpless
and hopeless out of bed only to spend my days pacing in
scheming circles to find my oblivion and do it again. How
long did I circle the drain? Did I finally get sucked through
or is this all a dream? Searching for meaning and afraid
what I’d find ether way.
I walk into this cold desert necropolis with my hood
on, haven’t eaten for weeks. The King of Ghosts waiting
through the portal at the bottom of the unocean. All these
shadows of despair flicker on the coven walls as I pass
through the gates. A wasteland of desolate spires and sand.
I reach the final lair where the picture lies to stare into it
and reach the other side. I hear the sound of the death drone
running from outside the cave. I am pulled through the
portal.
DEIMOS
I am in a vast coral city in full gear.
I know where to swim.
Colors flash to black and white and I reach the gore
of the beast at the bottom of the sea, before it was only his
spawn I’d seen, but now here is the giant monster we’d
been waiting for.
I wade toward it in the blood-ink filled waters.
An eye opens and I recognize the beauty.
He pulls me into the dream and I am gone forever.
Enslaved.
DEIMOS
The Serpentine Machine
“A machine for decay slowly digesting pain. On the other
side I see my scars still burn the same. The light at the end
of the tunnel.”
The two young men sat on the couch in their two
bedroom rental. Mixing magic and machinery is not
recommended to anyone, but the two naïve amateurs knew
no better.
It started with small things, black outs and
flickering electricity and bad television signals, it would
change to channels automatically and with a seeming
reason and intelligence as they smoked their concoctions of
various drugs. Street drugs, herbs from the herb store,
medical marijuana, etc.
And then there was the goo in the fridge which for
some reason attracted an array of various almost exotic
tones.
Melted candles gave off a little heat in the dim light
of the apartment.
Titus spoke quietly and in scattered religious terms
as he hardwired the computer.
DEIMOS
He spoke of Lord Adonai and Tetragrammaton as if
they were a part of everyday laymen vocabulary.
He spoke of an angel with bloody scabbed wings
like that of a dying insect.
Simon Pulled out a gas mask from a cardboard box
and put it on and wore it for a while. He spoke in response
but Titus had a hard time hearing him at points and would
just give him cold stares for minutes at a time.
He took off the mask and went outside for a smoke.
“Hey this compost heap has got to go buddy it‘s
stinking up the place.” Simon tossed a cigarette into the
fruit peels and soil and walked back inside.
It pissed Titus off.
Cigarette butts would ruin the compost.
They’d been getting into strange things as of late.
Besides the drugs, black magic rituals and other odd
behaviors.
Definitely strange things, satanic kabala symbols
strewn in red across the walls smeared in blood and
condiments.
DEIMOS
The constant mixed smell of the drugs with the
smell of Titus cooking raw beans and incense burning out
from a skull on the table filled the whole apartment.
They both wore all black and their faces were pale
beside the black goatees.
Titus wore make up thick and ugly.
Simon had his wrists slit silly with dried blood from
no effort to clean afterward, sloppy mother fucker.
They lit the charcoal for the hookah and smoked
some shish.
The magic began brainwashing the populations of
people around them, at least they were sure it was so. It is
never recommended to use magic against your neighbors,
though they didn’t care much for love thy neighbor. They’d
scream at the top of their lung in heated arguments on
Nietzsche’s Anti-Christ or Greek myth in the middle of the
night. Often neighbors would have to knock and ask them
to be quiet. They didn’t care. They hosted strangers often
who would stay briefly then get freaked out and leave.
They honed in to one frequency without diversity or
discernment oblivious to the world around them.
DEIMOS
Neighbors would stare at the apartment in a trance.
And when they stepped outside everything always stood
still in frozen and awkward silence, people stared as they
walked by in cold moments of contempt.
Senselessness and crimes occurring of
unimaginable horror from their online following.
Cults popping up as mindless sheep.
New age religious extremists had a desire to escape
the nihilism and revise the meaning of life to anyone.
Some of the spells uploaded brought things out of
control. Titus got into hacking. New viruses that could
destroy your hard drive and put up permanent images on
your monitor every time you start up that would bother and
be disturbing to anyone.
Portals of consciousness were being opened with no
way of being closed, spirits primarily benign or malicious
could come through and go and invade anyone’s
consciousness for dreams fading for miles. Drones of
frequencies transmitted for canny levels brainwashing of
any ones making. The spells were working, automated from
the machine itself.
DEIMOS
It only really required a couple of computer
programs and a few supplies you could pick up from a tech
store and a little handy knowledge and the ability to follow
simple directions.
The machine was flickering and wires began
popping black and white electricity against the noise of the
boiling water.
Titus, sick of it all, grabbed the boiling water from
the beans and poured it directly onto the machine.
It sparked and started an electrical fire.
The flames started small and Titus just watched, he
didn’t care much to put it out. He wanted the machine dead.
Simon was sleeping off a hangover in the next
room.
When the smoke became unbearable Titus ran out
the door, he made an indifferent mumble that the house was
on fire that Simon could not hear at all.
Simon awoke in a dark cloud of smoke about ten
minutes later. Where is that fucking gas mask when you
need it?
DEIMOS
He fumbled around for a minute grabbed his snake
from its cage and ran through the smokey hall like a tunnel,
the light of the fire burning at the end.
The door appeared as a bright red square at the end
of the hall.
A light at the end of a dark serpentine.
He coughed his way through and burnt his hand on
the door handle.
The machine was dead.
He got outside and Titus was downstairs just
watching the smoke pummel from the door and windows.
The fire visible in the window.
Simon walked down the grimy concrete steps and
joined him for a smoke.
He kissed his snake and set it free knowing he’d
never be able to take care of it now.
They watched as months of futility went up into
flames and smoked their cigarettes.
“Man, what a great waste of time this place has
been.”
DEIMOS
“I know, right.”
“Well…” Simon faded off into silence then thought
of something.
“We better get the fuck out of here before the cops
show up.” He said.
They walked away slowly looking over their
shoulders, disconcerned as the fire spread to the neighbors’
apartments.
DEIMOS
Aqualung
He drinks every day.
A 40oz and a pint on workdays and the bars on the
weekend.
He smokes a pack a day.
Hacks up a lung every morning.
He works as a sales rep. during the week. Behind the shirt,
smile and nametag is a cold hatred for his job.
“Hello, welcome to _______, how are you today?” Fuck
you.
“You go on too many smoke breaks.” His coworker
comments.
“Yeah, I’m trying to quit.” Die fucker and go to hell.
His girlfriend broke up with him because he drinks too
much
“You drink like a fish.”
“You’re a fish.”
He gets back from his smoke break and the same coworker
motions to him that he reeks of smoke.
DEIMOS
He shrugs and thinks of possibly buying a fifth instead of a
pint tonight.
The rest of the work day drags on slowly.
No more smoke breaks, has to prove he can do it, plus it
will shut the little fucker up.
He stocks some shelves with items and smiles as people
walk by.
“Fuck you, have a nice day.” He stops and wonders if he’d
said that aloud. He’s not sure, he shrugs and keeps stocking
the shelf.
He clocks out and goes to his car and drives to the liquor
store on his way home.
Two tall cans on sale and a pint of cheap whiskey.
He opens and chugs one of the tall cans in his car on the
drive home.
He gets there and brings up the booze.
He proceeds to drink himself numb as he watches the bad
news on TV.
He lights a cigar while doing so and considers that things
could be worse.
DEIMOS
“I don’t have a trillion dollars in debt.”
“One thousand of my closest relatives and friends didn’t
die at war this month.”
“I’m not addicted to crack going on an intervention over
public broadcasting.”
The suns gone now and the dim light in the apartment is
stagnant and it’s cold.
He staggers out of his seat and turns on the heater.
He walks to the bathroom and turns on the radio and
undresses.
Some pop song about love and sex is playing mixed with
static from the signal.
He turns on the bathwater and looks at himself in the
mirror.
“You suck.” He says to himself and smiles then brushes his
teeth with too much paste.
Too much foam.
He hops in the bath and mindlessly yet intentionally knocks
the radio into the bathwater with him.
Aqualung.
DEIMOS
The Mansion and the Architect
They first toured the house in late autumn, a woman
of middle age gave the tour. She dressed elegantly and had
a powerful demeanor.
“This is the main hall. Notice the cascading stairs
and balcony of the second floor.” She held her hands
against the thick violet curtains hanging from the second
floor.
“The mansion itself was designed by the brilliant
architect named Drakel, a native to the Holy Roman
Empire. As you can very well tell he put much time and
energy into it.”
She said looking up at the painted dome ceiling as
they walked up the main staircase.
They started down the hall, the couple smiled.
“The art work, all chosen by the architect himself
tells a lot about the man, most of it is very dark." The man
put his hand down on an ebony sphere on the upstairs
column as they reached the top of the stairs.
“This one is my favorite” She spoke quietly and
reserved.
DEIMOS
They looked at it together with a blank expression
not knowing what to think or believe, an oil painting of a
muddy brown canyon with contrasting gold and blue
flames burning heat, a gruesome beast with tentacles,
reptilian scales and insect wings stared directly into them
with a finger pointing directly into flames.
The man faked an awkward smile to the realtor as
the wife passed indifferently.
He gazed down the balcony as the chandelier
flickered. He was taken aback by a statue of a knight in the
fashion of Arthurian legend standing on the first floor he
hadn’t noticed as they came through.
He shook his head in disbelief, quite shocking. He
started to think of his father passing, a great man.
The realtor passed placing a hand on the man's
shoulder.
“Let’s move on.”
The realtor walked them out. They stood under a
waning twilight in the autumn breeze.
DEIMOS
“It is really quite an offer, fortunately for you the
interests are down and this is truly the best time to buy.”
She held out her hand and they left.
It was a cold windy afternoon not two weeks later
when they pulled up with their things.
The gable peaked high, towering over the huge
double doors, they stood on the lawn scattered with
untended gardens and fallen leaves.
The mansion, with its stone façade loomed down at
the earth, the windows staring, lined with hanging plants
and ivy.
“Well, we are here.” he said.
The wife looked around at some sculptures and a
fountain.
Her gaze fell beyond the property at a high elm tree
in the distance poking branches over jagged rolling
mountain tops in the distance past the hills.
The first few weeks they spent getting settled in and
becoming familiar with the house.
DEIMOS
They discovered a garden bower out back, where on
the days when the sun came out, they enjoyed spending
their days. It started to feel like home.
They kissed arms around each other under the
hanging ivy and wildflowers.
“I feel so at peace, we have entered a new world.”
They laughed.
“Gabriel.”
One day before the winter solstice the man was
walking through the wrapping halls on the second floor for
no particular reason and he noticed a door, it was locked.
He went for the handle and tried again. Not given the key
he grew somewhat frustrated.
He called the realtor later that day. She assured him
she had no idea.
Three mornings later a package laid rest on the front
doorstep. It had no postage, just a small brown box with a
ribbon tied around.
He opened it on the stairs, a skeleton key wrapped
in cotton and silk with a note and in calligraphy saying only
two words: "Thank you.”
DEIMOS
He put it with the other keys in his pocket and threw
out the box.
He walked up the hall and reached for the key and
grabbed the handle, it slid open unexpectedly and he stood
still looking around in silence, the door was somehow
already unlocked.
He crept into the pitch black.
He reached for a light, wondering- what is this
room?
A library with a great wide window staring out
distant at the mountains, he walked passed the piano
touching the keys, he browsed the shelves various titles
then sat at the desk.
He looked in the drawers, the top had a few pencils
and pens and a notebook. He sat at the desk and read a
while, it turned out to be journals of the architect, Drakel.
Not thinking much of it he put them away and
turned out the light, and started to feel groggy as he walked
back down the hall toward his bed.
They laid awake a while, talking about nothing.
DEIMOS
When the rain started to pick up and a storm began
hitting the roof like galloping horses.
The lights blacked out and a quick chill ran up their
spines.
“What was that?”
“It sounded like footsteps…”
He went to check out the sound telling her to hold
tight, he walked out the hall and the darkness swelled in
silence and despair. Creaking noises on the wood from the
mansion a melody began to flow to his ears. As he passed,
shine of the moon outdoors landed on the knight and the
painting lit up, it was all he could see for a frozen moment
in time.
A soft elegant Aeonian mode, flowing from the
library, and he knew it.
He stared at the ebony sphere on the column.
In the dark in the dungeon, he awoke, the
background of the flames lit wildly.
He knew.
DEIMOS
His arms and feet in chains in the form on an X his
body felt weak.
Insane sounds of insect wings and flashing
movements of shadow flickered on the stone wall.
“Adramelech has fed.”
DEIMOS
Unholy Grail
“Let’s play a card game.” Simon Suggested
“Sounds good.” Titus agreed.
I was hesitant.
“What game are we going to play?” I asked.
“We’re going to play Egyptian rat screw.” Simon
insisted.
The small upstairs apartment was cluttered with
books and videogames. A TV lay sideways on the carpet
amongst the empty food wrappers. The lighting being
unusually bright gave off a stagnant heat and there I was in
a chair at the small round table with two people I hardly
knew.
So we started playing this game I’d never heard of.
I was too distracted to care much and just stared at the deck
and the back of the bicycle cards with distant eyes. All the
intricate colored lines and the two opposing cherub with the
thin white border. I swallowed my phlegm; we’d been
smoking hashish all night. The cards had that perfect
texture for gripping and sliding across the table. Simon
shuffled them with ease. The faces of their royal family and
DEIMOS
the unaffected eyes as they stood on the face of the cards in
bland primary colors were swiped into a deck a divided
amongst three of us.
The rules said to involve piling cards in a set to a
particular method and slapping the set upon triggered
patterns that just weren’t there. I was stoned and didn’t
really care plus I was getting antsy and tired and felt
claustrophobic.
“Alright, I’m taking off.”
I stood up and gave an obligatory peace out then
walked out the door closing it behind me. The sky was dark
and full of omniscient clouds of doom with a cold fog and
crisp breeze blowing electricity through the air, I stepped
out onto the concrete and let out a deep sigh to the winter
night.
I went to my car dimly lit under the car port and got
in. Crumpled cigarette packs, term papers, books, and tapes
scattered the brown leather interior, old car smell and stale
smoke. I pulled out of the lot and headed home. I turned on
the heater and pushed in the cigarette lighter after pressing
play on the tape deck.
DEIMOS
A local band, I got the demo tape from a show.
Smoking my cigarette listening deeply to melancholic
trumpet sighing over the downed tempo piano melodies, all
complimented by drums and crescendos of sound clips
from rare independent films.
There was no one else lost on the grey freeway, it
was late and a weeknight in my hometown. I turned into
suburbia and parked across from the house. The white
cherub statuette sat there on the picket fence with its baby
angel wings and its chipped smile towards me.
I turned off the car and just sat there for a second
breathing the cold air down my throat and into my lungs,
listening to the tape. It faded out to silence and reeled to a
click.
I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to get out of
the car.
So, looking for another tape in the center console I
found a blank cassette I wasn’t familiar with, it had just one
label with chicken scratches of a “Happy Birthday,” a gift?
What started out as poorly recorded guitar chords
cut halfway through a chorus abruptly broken by deep
laughter then to sounds of a meager party.
DEIMOS
I sat in the car for a while, listening to the tape.
Then all of the sudden a huge shadow mantis appeared
outside of the car swaying back and forth at me with its bug
eyes.
The tape clicked to a reel and then started to talk to
me in two conversing high Elvin voices.
“The bug is not real.”
“Yes it is.”
“HAHAHAHAHAHA”
I tossed and turned in my bed, my body stiff and
ancient, crumbling like a statue or a fallen idol, stuck in
insomnia. I just lay there, eyeballs staring into the ceiling
and beyond…
I got up and took the tape out and decided to figure
it out.
I copied it to my computer, slowed it down I heard a
conversation about foreign language policy during world
war two and slowed further it drew out to a buzzing sound
yet clearly the chant of “Six, six, six.” The mark of the
beast…
What had just happened?
DEIMOS
Demonic possession?
Suddenly it was freezing cold and I could see my
breath. I shut the computer down as my nerves did the
same, closing the window I flipped the blinds and fell
asleep.
I dreamt I was waiting at the transit; no one was
there but me.
And everything was grey.
A dying wind blew trash down the street. The
thought of a girl crossed my mind but only briefly then the
thought disappeared like the dust in the gutters.
I got up and started to walk; I turned a corner and
stumbled up some stairs. I followed the steps into the dark,
it got darker and darker as I went up. Then it was all black
except in the cement there, a luminescent shining lamp
emitting grey clouds of smoke through an enigma of thick
radiating shadow of light.
Instinctively I reached for the lamp.
As I touched it I awoke with my eyes open with a
dark mattered translucent demon coming out of my chest
DEIMOS
flashing a sinister sneer violently choking me against the
mattress.
Two more poked their translucent horned heads out
and grabbed my arms from either side of me with hellish
grins.
He slammed my chest harder and harder and choked
me and I tried to scream but no sound came out.
I shut my eyes in horror and for a moment I died
inside.
Frantically I prayed it stop.
Just then a blinding light shaped like a bell came
spiraling through the window floating down gracefully
sucking the demons like a vacuum spinning back out from
whence it came.
Then I was alone.
That’s when the nausea settled.
A thick dwelling pit turned in my stomach to what
felt like rocks.
Vomiting I ran to the toilet.
I fell.
DEIMOS
Sprawled to my knees burning in my throat on my
hands and knees in shock.
A pair of tentacle insectoid parasites swam deathly
in a pool of vomit and black blood.
My eyes through the ceiling I helplessly shouted out
save me again and again. My father broke the door down
screaming.
“What the hell is going on?”
Vaguely aware of my sister Angela in the next room
running water as she banged on the wall.
“NO!” She shrieked like a banshee in horror.
“Stop, that’s how demons manifest!” She cried then
wept.
“Save me!” Again and again and again.
I took a breath in shock agony and despair and
flushed the toilet knowing those things, whatever they were
would haunt me for years leaving me suffering in
existential despair wondering what had really happened.
That summer the heat burnt off slowly in an Indian
summer.
DEIMOS
A scarecrow in the distance with a purple coat and a
pumpkin head hung lifeless above the dry field, wooden
bones above the hay.
Flies buzzed all mechanical circling it flying
through ectoplasms, trails of tetra grams. Landing on your
face and skull, through your ears, digging into the pours
and boring into your flesh, squirming maggots devouring.
The field and dead tree and sky and everything fell
into red, then faded to a hearty purple.
All swelling like a purple vein then dyed to
apocalyptic grey when pitch black silence arose for all
eternity.
DEIMOS
Hand of God
In the center of town there rest a marble stone statue
of a hand, stained with age, the monument as old as anyone
alive could remember. Day after day people lingered
around this cultural symbol.
Downtown was reminiscent of a broken glass once
half empty that Friday the 13th.
I walked up and there was some broken glass on the
cement, it seemed to stand out shining for eternity and
everything seemed translucent and blood red.
I waited at the hand meeting an Rx apothecary to
get some pain meds. I use the term apothecary loosely, drug
dealer just sounds so pass. I only use to numb the pain, I
try not to overdo it usually. But I was getting a lot because
they were smaller milligrams, but at the same time because
of that they were cheaper, so I ended up getting a lot more.
And Paracelsus said that “All things are poisons, for
there is nothing without poisonous qualities. It is only the
dose which makes a thing a poison.” So, maybe I would
make a poison of the thing, no real plan, just picking some
up.
DEIMOS
Usual daydreams faded in hesitation as I walked.
We met up and had a brief mumbo jumbo
conversation about nothing in particular, I think something
or other to do with new technologies.
He slid the pills into my hand promising bliss and
hours of euphoria.
I felt as if it were to be and I walked away.
A cagey friend of mine, my ride, was in his car
waiting for me.
I got in the car.
“Got it?”
“Yea.”
Not much for conversation.
Everything in my sight had a seeming glow.
I felt trapped in freedom, desire, and ironically
powerless to a violent justice, as all the unappreciated
spiders webs. They’d construct in corners of the relative
world unseen by man. Their home, (a tangent) theirs*.
I held onto the pills tightly in my pocket; my saving
grace in this war based economy. If monism, the
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philosophy that everything is a single entity were only
more believable, if only I had the faith.
Is it my fate to be doomed into this hedonist’s
struggle, must I forever be lost dreaming up others
nightmares as if lying on the shore of infinity ocean, like
99*?
My friend drops me off. I’d used him for the ride.
He’s a sucker for something to do.
Facts seem to fall hard upon ages of understanding,
stress falls from the metaphysique as I put the Rx up my
nose at home and unto my face. Too many binders… 10 x
10 mgs, an overwhelming feeling of greed and bliss takes
hold as the opioids melt my psychic pain. Numb.
I do not condone killing emotions with pills to
anyone, yet every day I watch as so many bite off more
than they can chew. For the challenge. For something to
feel, and to overcome.
Reality is a vacuum, think, what we know of deep
space, vacancy; and we just know our true insignificance in
the bigger picture, jpeg, pain, death, doom, science
nationals, gross, gif, and death to nihilism, minimalism, and
repetition.
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Insane, ignorant, eccentric, pretentious, closed
minded, superficial, entitled, stuck up, right, manipulative,
brainwashed, angry, controlling, self-destructive, fearful,
megalomaniacal.*
(*this metaphor makes no sense.)
To revert this as a metaphor for your luck.
Mushroom clouds of poisonous neurochemistry and raw
visceral pain consuming through your ambivalence.
Living through suicide. That man that endures
himself in the ultimate pain of life and death, and is
essentially living through suicide in his own existence
every day, just waiting and watching the hand on the clock
as the minutes tick away.
Sit and act confused. You’re so spiritually harmful.
So eat.
I pop a few pills in my mouth and chew the bitter
chalky powder and swallow with my dry mouth.
I lay down on the floor limbs stretch out like an X
in blissful nothingness.
I once constructed a table way too high.
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It was made of a schedule of doses all in clear lines
and too digitally torn all black and white.
Tonight poisons providing the warmth and comfort
of God.
All this in an over wired world, high on pain killers.
Death by my own hand.
Suicide.
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“The thieves came in through the day dream door,
numeric order known to no one.” The Paranoiac said to the
Suicide King, to himself.
Deimos is that place you go. You don’t remember
how you got there, but once you’ve been and turned back,
something has indefinitely changed and will never be quite
be the same.
The second moon of Mars, a crooked little satellite,
the Greek word for dread and panic.
Deimos, similar to a black hole of sorts, an
unknown of loose wires and orbital decadence, open
valleys of emotionless and mind numbing fear.
Deimos; a pen name, a tag, a handle, something
never should have been taken. Little did he know at the
time the power of the word itself.
Deimos always wore the same thing; black pants
and a black and yellow shirt of the schematics of a broken
machine with a diagram of the Babylonian triangle of
captivity, skate shoes.
He lived in California.
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When he went out he’d throw on a hoodie and ride
a green BMX. He’d painted it with spray paint one
summer.
There were winds of darkness, stars cut across lines
of the night sky through which navigation would be
literally absurd to attempt any sort of calculation, so minute
and precise in there randomly entropic detail.
Orbiting; a graph of such a chart would simply be
called unsolvable or void.
He rambled on Epiphany, a holiday in early
January; he knew what it meant. The times were slowing
down for him, a simple reminder of how life can be full of
wonder and mystery. Epiphany was a great day in winter,
the sun came out over a cool fog and shone down hard on
the pavement.
Deimos rode the green BMX around town.
Speeding like a missile with the wind flowing, he
felt like king.
Deimos woke up one morning, blinded by the smell
of coffee brewing. He looked out the window of the flat; it
was dark out.
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Lines cut across his wrists like a cross hatches or a
jagged ladder climbing nowhere.
Scar.
He didn’t know why.
Something about a machine being broken.
The blade shining in the light of his eyes had
contrasted the darkness of the blood.
Scar.
He scratched his head and grappled with the spoon
and coffee, sugar.
He stood upon the universal unabridged dictionary
he’d tossed on the floor some time earlier like the book was
a podium and gave a slurred speech to no one in particular
ending in the word “Deimos.”
Then bowed a thank you and sipped his coffee.
There was a general haziness about him this time
around.
One thing was that the music always blared twenty
four hours a day.
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The structure he lived in was very old, it must have
been used for a bomb shelter when it was originally built.
There was an odd ventilation system and there also seemed
to be a lot of the signs on the walls which led him to
believe it may have been a bar or hotel previously. It was a
decent place, but he’d hope to move up. The windows were
harsh and difficult to open, you couldn’t see through them
very well, they were covered with stream lines and caked
with dust. The floor was covered in books and loose papers,
he was working on putting together a project of sorts.
He sat at the desk and pulled out a cell phone and
started to tovel, a term from Japan meaning text messaging
a novel. He hadn’t gotten very far but he liked the idea so
he rolled with it.
He sipped his coffee and pulled out an 80mg
OxyContin from a box and put it in his mouth. He let the
blue film coating the outside melt on his tongue. He pulled
it out and wiped it with a paper towel.
Then he took out a cigarette cellophane and crushed
the pill under it with a lighter with the suicide king of
hearts on it.
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The powder lay on the desk and he cut it up into a
line with an over balanced credit card.
He rolled up a fifty dollar bill and put the powder
up his nose through the dead face of Grant. In awe he
leaned back in his chair then got up and lay on the floor.
Which is where he lay for over an hour with his
limbs stretched out like a cross or an X.
Light flickered and night crept out through the
window. Time seemed irrelevant, he never knew whether it
was night or day any more.
It’s all just eternal moments when you’re high.
He got up.
He had his cake and ate it too.
A psychedelic breakfast with a banana, cake, and
coffee in the early dawn, he knew there were others like
him all around; nocturnal night crawlers who would roll out
of bed in the middle of the night for breakfast and do their
routine then, he knew that he was not the only one.
The music was an “autonomic rock-out machine”
and had a life of its own.
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He tried to turn it down but the wires went hay wire
and just go up and the volume remained neutral. It liked to
play itself loud. Right then it was blaring a thirty minute
piece of symphonic post rock, at times the song would
crescendo so loud the walls would shake and at others there
were minute gaps of silence of feedback. The equalizer was
acting up.
Leave electronics on long enough they take on a life
of their own.
He opened the door.
The wind felt cool but there was an emptiness in
space. The stars just weren’t there, just a flat cool black sky
strewn across nothingness. Street lamps and the cross from
the church across the street.
It felt like a black hole or that time right before an
earthquake when everything stands still.
He smoked a cigarette.
The sun started to show its rays.
A little after dawn K. stopped by.
K. lives right down the street.
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Friends for daze.
Like thieves in the night they went for a drive in his
black Beemer.
They spoke of a new publishing project in the
works. Electronica music blared out the windows as the
dawn air flowed into the car, K. was wearing shades.
“Want to get coffee D.?”
“Yea let’s go.”
“I will buy you a cup.”
K. took off his sunglasses and parked the car.
The January weather was cool before the dawn of a
promising year.
A man sat at a table was speaking in prophetic
Nostrodamean language in the dawn eating a croissant, his
hair wild with energy he had papers sprawled in front of
him, probably working on a piece.
There was a silent moment of quiet electric
disconnect in the weather as they walked through the cold
plaza early morning.
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K. wore a blood red shirt with dripping black lines
with a spiral from the ribs.
They parted ways after coffee. K. had business to
attend to, Deimos unlocked the door to his flat and went
inside.
He looked out the window, the sun was high in the
sky by this point, the chimneys blowing warm vapors into
the cool winter air from roof tops. He stood upon a broken
laptop like a podium and went over the etymology of the
word Deimos, mentioning Ares, the word for Art or War,
Mars in Roman, or the astronomical body in our heavens.
Then he went into the two sons of Ares; Phobos and
Deimos, Phobos being fear and Deimos being dread. Fear,
trembling, dread, panic, the personification of sheer terror
and despair.
“The suicide king of hearts… in the cards” he
sipped his coffee and stepped off a broken machine.
FIN
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