The Revolver
Fear not. I have not crossed the path of the wildebeest. I see the fortune of the Trinity incarnate. Breathe I must the dust of a thousand hooves, to swallow the pride of countless transgressions, the haze of winter salutes my marrow, the sun is an arrow that pierces my psyche, I revolt against nothing. […]
The Flight of a Gull
Watch the flight of a gull on the sea and you will see the ocean open before thee! – Esinz
Nothingness Found
Certain characters of mortality blemish the landscape of Satirist cognizance. To wish to instruct the catapult to throw its wrath is mundane humor. I know of the valley, the wood hue of Taragon. I wander in depths of sincere bonds to frequency. Stars that touch diamonds echo nomenclaturistic duties. I must explain minutiae? No, it […]
As We Whirl
The round sun spins around a spiraling earth as we whirl around our sacred ground in both confusion and certainty. — Esinz
Of Trilogies
Of trilogies, sane and like-minded comparisons are dauntingly overestimated in effectual value. I am sacrilege in scope of the mortgage of one’s “witches brew” for pennies of satiates on seasons of mercy. Let me not speak the wisdom of profligates, but the paradigms of ration and confluence. – Sinz
I Should
I should come in peace, as I should wear the shroud of Omen in the highest kingdom of Sumatra. I should shun the dark, as I should monopolize the time of many with zany tricks and postures. I should do that which is right and good for the sake of humanity, as I should vow […]
Incomprehensibilities of Time
The incomprehensibilities of time are few and many. Still we must submit to the inevitability of beginnings and endings. – Esinz
Disharmony of Defeat
The disharmony of defeat may be as pure as a never ending struggle and as vile as a misspoken word out of context. – Esinz
Conundrum of the Human Condition
The conundrum of the human condition: our dreams are of heaven, but our desires are of hell. – Esinz
Beggar of Silk
Wealth: I am the beggar of silk, the translucent cod redeeming the mangled crock of the oracles, seeming of pity to one that relinquishes freedom for angst amidst tridents. I roll in high clouds, service the stout kettle of the kindred, and allies of consults steer my viscous to naivety. – Sinz