Perch @perchingpath@eldritch.cafe
Scarp scree clatter. She, elle.
Within 30 miles of Philadelphia, because of a curse.
Joined Sep 2018
It would be convenient, for clarity and ease of communication, to manifest a sulfurous pit to plummet into, and to return singed & smoke-scented when the █████ passes.
Resemblant cousins reunited at the jobsite to their forewoman's farcically repeated confusion.
urine[,] alchemy
I know "uroboros" is a transliteration with at least as much precedent as "ouroboros", but nevertheless I do, every time, think, "a snake forever pissing in its own mouth".
Pinches of powdered tom yam mix taken from
Antique Snuff Box (c. 1890), mulberry wood inlayed with mother-of-pearl yew branches, wryly morbid inscribed motto (see images).
to be deposited on fleetingly protruded tongue-tip.
I accidentally started a fire yesterday, of the small but enthusiastic sort that needs urgent extinguishment. The dregs of my water bottle did the trick, and I thought, "Oh, good, I'm glad that still works."
(The only casualties were two bags of croutons.)
The query is an immortal bird, small enough to live in a skull. Its molted feathers accumulate and do not decay.
Wounded, I turn to my memories of maze-traversal for comfort, entire days passed in appreciation of the alluring mustiness corn gains at the sodden end of October. Later, having moved on to church labyrinths, I drift through a Levantine pilgrimage wholly blind to my surroundings.
I've pried open (& cleaned) seven of our eight household convectors for the first time since they were painted firmly shut by an unknown previous resident, and found two wilting plastic flowers and an ornamented chopstick. To complete the triangulation, the eighth should yield... a baguette of pale green glass missing a cheap ring?
Did I, at some point, find that a day of physical work (grime washing from my hair in gray rivulets after) left me nearer to the world around me, or did I only read that someone else felt so.
Ghostly as in future-starved.
https://danieldejesuscello.bandcamp.com/track/this-is-my-house
Dreamt of a vast feast for four in an expensively secured hotel room, thirty-some divers dishes all gleaming the color of salmon roe. Outside, a dim hall of an antique store where I shifted stuffed mice to low, obscured shelves to facilitate their theft by future child visitors.
Really into the cadence of this (inconveniently long) spell from The Long Lost Friend. You are coming under your hats, you are scattered!
Shedding my outermost skin all at once like a snake rather than gradually and imperceptibly like a coward.
Counting pelvic bridge reps in the whispered salival creak of a sclera-less ghost girl.
Jarringly whimsical guilt/stress dream in which the (real) pipe failure under my bathroom had been caused by the dense-packed abundance of overripe wild strawberries cached in the wall cavities by the assorted mammals (coatis, dwarf bears, etc.) I'd negligently allowed to roam the house.
It fried my modem right that instant, via the coax not the outlet as best I can tell. What an expensive little noise.
Scarp scree clatter. She, elle.
Within 30 miles of Philadelphia, because of a curse.
Joined Sep 2018
