Aarrccs-Revenant

To start with a line another a third A subtle answer quiet preferred That of the Ego demeaned and deferred The finality of being desperate absurd Growling now     Crawling and blind             Controlling                     Tilting on a need    Aching with sweat, and want  To take of an answer                    On a stained precipice         Looking and heeding                                               In the pit in the             Mind                        The Id                                   The Beast                                                                       One made of glass sad

Give me a current a source for the palpitations the murmurs and biological imperatives Living Pulse fast for me now rapid and raging knowing the unsettling in one's chest Breathing Task me with the first impossible to tell a muscle to stop cold throbbing like those on the edge of sex Writhing Eaten by undulating centipedes Eaten by earth sick Eaten by trepidation and entropy Eaten, and again eaten Rotting

I am one with more heart than brains, more spine than muscle, more wonder than sense. And yet here I stand, introverted, awakened, Without the better or bitter judgment to remove myself from the ill feeling Of broken noses and lashed hands between us two. I am an old cat, and she, a clever mouse at odds with one another Internally Eternally Ready. Ready. to commit runaway and absurd violence in the notion of hammerspace and dead air between us two. I am a soft method backed by obscure gods and demons With my objectives in mind and their agendas behind That will burst with blood and bile and hatred and love dissolvin

A highway stretches out along the countryside, running along fields picked clean from an autumn harvest.  One car chases the last few rays of light dangling from the sun, nestling itself among the clouds off in the distance.  “I never was that fond of talk radio,” sighed a modest, mouse colored man.  It was an unnecessary retort he made to no one in particular, complaining about the droning nature of some voices as he absentmindedly turned off the radio.  In the same motion his free hand searched among empty cup holders and cellophane wrap to find a voice recorder, small, inconspicuous.  He quickly spouted off several phrases into t