All I remember was being sick, at first, slowly things came back to me, but I doubted the truth to all of it. I was phasing in and out of dreams that were real enough. Phasing in and out for about three days, dreams of chewing tobacco and weird flashing boards of light that communicated to robots and the faithful in a sacred church-like temple building. Dreams of being in Russia staring at the weird moons over a Siberian below-zero-cold. The moons over Russia are so different than the moon I have seen over the USA for my lifetime. I awoke from that with the sex chucks, cured by self-eroticism fueled by suggestive images of Brenda Song in bikini and other suggestive costumes. Notably: a naughty bride, it was more than simply tasty, beyond any other description, though.
The moon in that dream-world Russia . . . actually there were other thoughts in my head at the time . . . first my horror of a waking life, before I get to that moon (or was it the Smoon [bad sitcom reference])
My life had become a swirling nightmare existence, starring DMX, the drug that had not only been cheap and available, but it had become my chosen drug. As I was describing, an anesthetic hallucinogenic ordeal, on the drug it was actually much more simple, being high is so easy for me. The dead did not intrude the blankness swirling with cats and Kayako, who would, at one point, climb onto my bed in lieu of my wife, of whom [sic] I had assumed was coming back to bed from the other room. It was an immersive, eidetic hallucination generated by a great many cold and allergy pills. But even though, had it been real, the looming doom could have become my actual death; yet somehow, there was something weirdly sexual about being killed at the hands of an onryo type ghost with a "Grudge".
My near death hallucinogenic experience predated the dream moons, the broken splinter was larger than our current single moon; which was led by one and fell beneath the smaller of the two other moons; it was because my brain had stolen the image, exclusively for my dreams, from the TV show "Marvel's Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D." and the show's portrayal of our Earth that purportedly had been destroyed by an inhuman agent that went by the name "Quake". But it had, in my sleeping head, become the remnants of a wildly over-sized moon that I saw over the Siberian tundra.
The dead inhabited that dream . . . as well as most of my other dreams current to that time . . . but not as zombies by a long shot, but vital and quick. It was my Dad, Grandma, and Aunt Laura . . . Alive and well, appearing every night, on the stage in my head. Well, not any more, now I guess I miss the drugs for some reason, not the stomach pain, constipation and sand in my urine. I shit you not.
". . . It's about being dead inside," Kiki Lee said, "about refusal to enjoy life on life's terms . . . "
The ghost of W. S. Burroughs whispered from the shadows under my computer desk . . . sad silence . . . finally tired at six AM. My head foggy from sleepless bipolar manic, maybe I should take a caffeine pill and sniff some "rush" and go to sleep.
I was not born with bipolar disorder; it is something that developed over years of obsessive anxiety. Eating lots of sauerkraut should fix that up in a jiffy.
Three warrior monks of an ancient and very secret order and myself, armed only with ninjaken swords, our wits and our robes, set out for the larger moon, into a battle against a double headed dragon of some ill repute. The Dragon, named Skaarity, was not just a hoarder of gold but also had the ability to capture, and "stash" human creative cycles. This war happened before the Earth's moons collided and coalesced into the single Moon known of today. The wyrm's army consisted primarily of the undead; they were the weaker ones, not vampires or liches, but zombies and skeleton warriors, completely devoid of flesh. It seemed that skeleton warriors laugh a lot, albeit maniacal and scary, I could not figure out how that was possible without vocal chords.
Skaarity's general was Sister Death, whose garb appeared to be a nun's habit only in radioactive blue, with only her hands and face showing. The skin on her hands was thin, making her fingers seem cadaverous, her face was white as bleached bones and about as featureless as a skull. What stood out about Sister Death was her eyes, which were one solid color, like some humans that are blind, but instead of white they were reptilian green. She belted out orders in the long dead language of Sumerian to the emaciated horde, and the dead lay siege upon us.
It occurred, briefly, to me that the zombies were easier to dispatch than the flesh-less bone-boys. As much as I hate to admit it, due to my distrust and dislike of magic in any form, the skeletons were probably enchanted. Every time we struck down one enemy, two more materialized, sprouting strait up from the ground. Brother Bloodstreak exclaimed, "I wouldn't do this any other way!"
I was the stark hieroglyphics of a dying sun shining on a dead planet . . . that had not realized it was dead
Relatively close by, on the smallest moon, the one that had a bit of an atmosphere, stood Elizabeth , The Space Girl. She could have swept down and fought at our side, but she was testing us. She alone had the knowledge that the Skaar Battle took place in the future and the past.
The three moon system existed both before and after the existence of the Moon of modern times, our battle taking place shortly before the dinosaur's demise, an irregularity of the generally consistent space/ time continuum. At least, inconsistency being due to the lacking presence of a black hole. How it existed in two space/ time coordinates was/ will be similar to cosmic lensing (or gravitational lensing) which is an effect of light caused large gravitational sinks such as a star or mass of dark matter. Sometimes an energetic effect occurs in time, such as the extinction of the dinosaurs, that compels physical objects to exist in two very separate time/ space "locations".
"How does gravitational lensing work? If light traveling towards us from some distant star passes by another massive object—say, another star or galaxy—that light gets deflected, and its path is altered. When that light reaches Earth, it appears to be coming from a different direction than its original path. We see the star as being in a different position on the sky than where it’s actually located. This apparent movement of the background star is exactly double what you would see in Newtonian gravity; hence, it provides a simple way to test Einstein’s theory." By Rachael Livermore smithsonian.com 592Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGwfNN7xdED
August 15, 2016
Spun out in circles like a galactic ring . . . lensing of stars and distant galactic hubs . . . terracotta sculptures of skeletons and grotesques lined the ruins, an underground corridor that that seemed ready to collapse . . . brother Ghostkill swung his sword passionately, in an effort to removed blackened zombie blood, which joyously splattered everywhere . . . it was Buddha's joke and Christ's bane . . . stale air slapped our faces . . . brother Darkshade had scouted ahead . . . "all clear" . . . then he suggested we stop and meditate in order to recoup.
I am that broken moon dominating the horizon. I am broken and complete at the same moment . . . The stars are different from my point of view, I am Andromeda colliding with the Milky Way . . . and at the same moment of destruction I am in Andromeda watching the stars swirl in the beauty of pure annihilation.
Skaarity crashed through the ceiling almost directly where we were practicing Zazen. His two heads each used a distinct breath weapon, from his left head he breathed an intoxicating poison that caused the victim to fall captive to his thoughts and soul while the world outside becomes a swirling mass of hallucinogenic chaos and chromatic haze . . . the right head would eject the purest of blue fire . . . he had grey-blue skin that seemed tough because his scales were slightly metallic, but the monks had spent countless hours training and studying intell, (my official purpose to the mission was as a guide) 592Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡIc6ZbgXO7s
the monks had comprehensively learned Skaarity's methods as well as his weaknesses. Actually dispatching the wyrm was somewhat easy. Every move they made was as flawless as if it were choreography committed to memory. Brothers Darkshade and Ghostkill drew the right head's flame, blocking with small, mirrored shields, deftly handled. Most of Skaarity's attention fled to the skill that the brothers used to deflect the flames toward the right head's face that he become distracted.
Brother Bloodstreak was the trouble shooter, the ace-in-the-hole . . . A katana, signed by Masamune himself, flashed from its hiding place . . . fastened to Bloodstreak's back under an extra piece of cloth . . . a single tooth of death . . . razor sharp . . . Bloodstreak flicked it dexterously and relieved Skaarity of his gaseous breathing head. Skaarity turned to his wound and was intoxicated by his own poison. A lethal dose, the beast went immediately into convulsions. The aftermath was nothing to my party, we jumped into our time bubble and walked into the pages that I am presently writing.
Skaarity did not just simply die, or disintegrate into ash, like a good evil being, he exploded with the force of a nuclear warhead, three quarters of the large moon burst in every direction, but the largest chunk was propelled at the deepest gravity sink, crashing directly into the Earth, killing seventy-five percent of life there and then . . .The dinosaur extinction event. As for Sister Death, she tried to escape via the smallest moon, The Space Girl gave her a crushing back blow that stopped her heart. Well, at least TSG stopped the grizzled, black, hard thing that was the facsimile there of.
The moons remained in orbit like they were before the battle for some time, two smaller orbs and one grand quarter shard of another; then they drifted from reality and into my drug withdraw spurred dream. Shining down upon the snow glazed Russian tundra.
Eventually, in a time frame untraceable by modern science, the large shard eventually crumbled causing the small moons to collide with the rubble and each other. They eventually coalesced into the Moon we know and love, following the principle of the conversion of angular momentum. They had to, it's the law.
The Smoon has left the building.
These days I feel like a zombie, or, more so like a lich, what for my evil intelligence. I maybe over-examine myself and my lack of goals, what for the fact that I mostly do not engage in evil. I do, though, watch quite a lot of horror movies. The inside joke I have with my sister, the easiest one that makes her laugh the most, always ends with "Everyone dies." Maybe the evil that lurks in my heart is greater than I imagine.
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