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The smell... that smell. I've been here before. A rank perfumed cellar door closing before the stale air can escape. It's a prison door. Walls collapsing under enormous pressure from the chain-ganged news media. A fluffy bunny & a paddle, floating upstream on airs of indifference & jealousy. A Queen & a Rook, joined hands at last. Sweetened butterfly wings beating in open meadows of contentment. A passive longing for foolishness, lamenting an educational blot. A mystical river blowing past Autumn. A smell, the smell... or smells. Hearken back, roads asunder. A privileged few come with me to meet the Man. He bakes bread & drinks wine & falls down a lot. He is gracious, but did not get here by giving away secrets. His sensibility is a frail waif. It is a whore. You please his sensibility by driving into her again & again. Light a candle, the cave is dark. He closes doors slowly, but closes them none-the-less. The smell. Flesh thrown under burning bridges. Old buildings wave in the breeze & smile at future calamity. Parson's tales, with women & high Spirits. The mill has closed & Time is running out again. Clocks chime in the distance in a Past that never was. Beating hearts stop, trees whither... all things wait & panic. All things want. All things. I've never been here before. |