Beyond his peripheral vision and piercing through cataract veils is the vivid radiation, a luminescent shroud of kaleidoscope prisms. Indurated by the morphology of decayed honey milk and brimstone his corrupted voids oscillate between apex and apex, inert in a rawboned mausoleum. The black holes contract with illumination, and expand when peering into depths of nihility – a curious lack of life and vacuum space. A world of the wordless, he’s of mute debauchery, wanderlust fueled by the desire of rumor, magick adrenaline and perpetual steroid gold. Focus now, his chest collapses, limbs guided by clockwork. Paces forward, joints that grind the ivory skeleton into cutthroat razors, and they sink into his flesh, bless what is neither human nor God with internal bleeding. If he is lucky the plasma will soak into a certain peccant, hollow muscle, staining it crimson.
Sugar is imbedded within his throat and the crystalline fragments burn, corrosive and reminding English of mirth. The edges of his lips lift, an ephemeral reminiscence of blissful inanity and the architecture reverberates with the echo of abandoned patterns. Laughter is rotary; it retires into the cavern of a cranium and embraces the abrasions and scars of immoral surgical procedures. Bleached white, his knuckles stifle noise, attention redirected to prude observations and analysis of the convex margins of translucent scarabs. They migrate from the east to the north, and they are impervious, preserved for infinite storing not wisdom nor intelligence, just a cavity air pocket inside their center. Mindless, the glass insects scatter, apathetic to organic existence, and abscond towards the underbelly of the Netherworld.
They are his guides, leading him to an endpoint an unknown probability; paragon or death. Footfalls scar the ametrine floorboards, and the chasms extend behind him in spider web spirographs, the cracks gossamer and his dissonance asphyxiating his alveoli. Jake’s eyelids flutter, synchronized with the rhythm of heart, entranced by curio, to feed the restive demon knowledge and test his equilibrium upon a wire of mummified cat’s gut. “Oh – Bravo.“ A phantasm of thought crawls between the fissures, his body again situated in paralysis. Transmuting, merging, the scarabs become liquidized, sinking into the pyramid’s boundaries and vanishing like an optical illusion, twisting until their corpses are mere ripples, the waves lapping at the toe of his boots. “Golly, this place is strange.” Exhaling in solitude, the comment delivers no justice, and the brow of his visage dons wrinkles, yet a grin transpires, reversed in the transverse reflection. How electrifying – and the emotion is cerebral mucus, it leaks into his scleræ.
