Walking the streets of my eternal city, a flame flickers out of view casting a coterie of dancing shades across my eternal square. And suddenly, the nothing-stuff speaks to me and I am no longer Eden; slightly smart, relatively well dressed Eden; but instead I am covered in power armor and, hurtling through a clouded binary star I smash into the front line of the Bannerless Fleet and, flickering with barely held energy I bring death to the enemies of man.
Turning the streets of my eternal city, a wind from a far away corridor envelopes the space around me with whispers across my eternal alley. And suddenly, the nothing-stuff speaks to me and I am no longer Eden; slightly well spoken, relatively popular Eden; but instead I am holding a tattered herald and, standing firm on a hill made of iron corpses I scream for the volley and charge of the Hundred Sisters and, roughly shaded with the air of command I bring death to the children of man.
Unlocking the doors of my eternal city, a warmth from inside my room suffuses my heightened senses in a moment of returning to my eternal home. And suddenly, the everything-stuff speaks to me and I am no longer Eden; slightly mannered, relatively educated Eden; but instead I am drawing a silken pistol and, feet firm on the roof where my house began I breathe for the true shot and firm hit of Scintillia My Gun and, boldly stroked by the red of a dawn I bring death to the heir of man.Back to Poems