Monthly Archives: February 2019


We await the coming of

Electrospectre, Infekta, Twizdar

Succor will be ours.

:: steampunk angels?


I am a stranger in a strange place, cast aside by my own kind. For a crime committed upon two young souls, who never saw it coming, but truly got what they deserved.

For the gorging my sight was taken, the slashing made me a hand poorer.

And for the other innumerable sins, i was sent here, where no man has been, and none dream to go. Where childhood fears run seeking solace once their hosts dismiss them. A warped zone of such perplexity, my mind numbed upon entry.

In this nauseating confusion i try my very best to stay alive. A creeping fear often scrapes across my mind, curling my spine. Who are these voices that speak to me, i sense no one yet feel a crowd gathering, staring upon me. Me, a worm, struggling and writhing in a pathetic state.

What worse punishment could someone have than to stare death in the eye. Death, in the form of the unseen and illogical, set in an alien land where the old laws don’t hold.

Staring right at him but not knowing when he will swoop down and claim my wretched soul.

Yet there is no escape, not even through insanity, for i now know without the littlest doubt that even the mad feel pain and tremble with fear.

I am stuck in between, stretched in all ways, waiting to end, but the waiting won’t end.

:: penny for your throat


Today we testify to our triumphant tearing apart and thrashing of the tattlers who have so treacherously threatened our thoughts with their torrential tales. Their terrorizing tempests on the tender terraces of our threshold into truthfulness thus have been thwarted! It is true that their theological tongues were like a truncheon on our supposed tunnel vision; but why should our testaments be thrown from their thrones?! The tangle brought by the tumescent eye has long been transcribed on the talons of time. Let us forever trounce their theories and instead adorn our torsos with the tunic of our tradition, and with great tenacity at that. Truly, the tireless trip towards tasteful transformation can only be to my taste…
Submit to me in total, refusal is tantamount to treason of the highest order.

For i am your treasure and treasury, and the tranquility with which you travel.

:: total tractability


There was once an old man who lived in the corner
of Seventy-Fourth and Spring.
Quiet and pale, he kept to himself,
and to no one did he say a thing.
‘Curious old fella’, that’s what they said,
the people of the town about him.
And after some time and years gone by,
they stopped trying to talk to him.

One Sunday morning as he walked through the market,
(briskly and eyes on the floor)
he spotted a madman laughing and talking
to nobody but himself.
‘Oh why am i here, who are they there,
i wish i could be with the stars’.
Something about those cryptic words said
struck deep in the heart of the man.
Without buying his vegetables nor other foods,
he turned round and walked quick back home.

For one whole week his door not once creaked
and people thought he had died!
But on the next Monday,
a beautiful Monday,
he stepped out all shaved and clean.
Neatly pressed clothes and hair nicely combed,
he wore the most magnificent of smiles.
‘Good morning, young man!’
said he to the milkman,
whose shock was scarcely hid.
And finally when words found their way once more
to his mouth so did he speak:
‘Good Sir! i say, ’tis a delight!
I’ve never seen you so happy!
And for the first time i hear your voice,
and God, do you sound unbelievably merry!
What happened, pray tell, why change you now,
when all this time you never smiled,
and always were silent and moody?’

‘Ah! Young man, ’tis curious indeed,
but answer your question i will.
‘Twas sad and wasteful, oh how regretful…
…that i had forgot how to live’.

With his smile still wide and a tear in his eye,
went the old man to the market.
We hope you had not forgot the fact
that he still had to buy his groceries!

But more than that, and in his heart,
was a thanks he needed to give.
And who be it for, but the madman he saw,
who’d reminded him of what he’d missed…

:: jolly good fellow


The following is a short piece inspired by the introduction speeches you hear in many of Valve’s popular games. Oh the feels…

Welcome to the Futurelight Research Facility.

Guests, it is important that you pay close attention to the following guidelines:

Each of you has had a genetic sample taken, which means your biodata is in our computer and security network. Following that, access to our internal network as well as equipment is automated and dependent upon your assigned clearance level. That said, do not be alarmed if you are required to submit a tissue sample prior to using certain research tools.

Most importantly, do not attempt to leave the compound without prior consent from Administration. Otherwise, you will be tracked and detained within 1.5 minutes of your escape, assuming you somehow bypassed our five-tier security system and still have functioning limbs, at best. While we try our best to handle escapees gently, we regret that our guards might not always be gentle.

Thank you and have a pleasant day ahead.

:: this was supposed to be a triumph