-_- North Star -_-
03-13-08, 09:31 PM
On the outer limits of the twilight zone, under the perennial moon of the year, during the centennial millennium, fourth decennium, shadows in the sky cause deep fear. You will hear about a requiem for a dream, of a dying sun beneath the sea, and a nightmare that has prowled next to us since the beginning of history. A perplexed mind is a mystery, especially true if you resemble a man carved out of granite. Pity, I care nothing for the world, but to make my plan grow, I have to plant my thoughts on this planet. I saw my birth in the core of the earth, now I reside submersed in the ocean, crossed legs, head above water, eyes perched on the narrow estuary of a firth. Mouth open, drinking the dark Arctic water of a river frozen, but not because of thirst. I have no need to breathe, evolved past the need of sleep, and however well versed I used to be with humanity – if enough time pass by, and you come to think like a mountain, then what are words worth to me? I am CONCRETE, a desolate cliff arising from a foaming sea. No time to debate with my own thoughts, for tectonic plates quakes as a gentle giant awakes. Waves breaks around my waist like a raging sea of inferno, leaving a wake of muddy water, caramel opaque ochre. Walking towards the shoreline vista, my life aquatica return to terra nova as a transformed ante poetica fashionista. My muscles move in precise increments, of what must be amounting, to thousand tons of magmatic segments. And as such, my skin is like a mosaic of different sediments attached to cement. Content with my decision, envision bare feet on barbed wire, as I’m wading on a coral reef, that feeds on hot gases the seabed transpire. Appearing on the horizon like a tower of light guiding ships in the night, Fighting Falcons take flight from the frightening sight. Armed with sidewinders and pathfinders, pilots make reminders not to aim at the ocean liners. Wading ashore, sitting down on dry land, I am seen as a childlike monster holding a submarine in its right hand. And as frigates aims fire, circling the colossus of stone, I address the crew as if talking into a microphone.