It's been a year since I last did anything here.

That's no shock.

It's a long overdue goodbye from me.



Don't worry, Devart. I won't cry. I've already forgotten you.

Good news.

[link]

Skintwisterman's Folly is now open! And soon, there will be more. A hell of a lot more.

Suggestions are desired. Yearned for.

Feed my purse.

This is about Dina. Defelite. A dear, dear friend.
It's about you, and all about you.

I see you suffer, and I am going to help. I know my flaws: Too far, too weak, too late.

...And I don't know whatelse to say.

They say the beginning step to curing the illness is to first acertain the identity of the problem.

Always a little too far, a little too long, a little too late.

In this God-drenched hubris, I will change the world. I'm tired of being one man. I will become one. I will wrench continents together. I will set the world up as my table.

If the flaw in my strategy has been my location, then so be it. But now it is time to move on and out. To break away the chains that keep me where I am and be a little closer, nearer, sooner.

I am such a bastard liar. Such a sick hypocrite. I dance to my own laughter. Building masks with leering grins and double-talking over my sins.

And yet, to ~you~, I can't lie.

I love that. I love you.



It's time to break the fucking world. And all of them will feel it.

A poem to go home with

And where is the peat?
And where is the dust?
And where is the meat?
And where is the lust?

And no more fears,
And no more cries,
And no more tears
And no-one dies.

There are no skies,
There is no floor,
There are no ties.
There is no pure.

There's none to kill-
There's none to hate;
There's no free will.
There's no more fate.

And there is no gore,
And there is no skin,
And there is no law,
And there is no sin.

And no more slope-
There is no track,
And no more hope.
There is no black.

There is no grey,
There is no white,
There is no day,
There is no night.

There's none to abuse,
There's no mankind.
There's none to lose,
There's none to find.

And no demiurge,
And none to weep.
And none to purge,
And none to keep.

There's no divine,
There are no more ends,
There's no more mine,
There are no more friends.

And what of taste,
And what of touch?
And what of waste,
And what of such?
And what of rapture,
And what of rape?
And what of capture,
And what of escape?

And no more where,
No more of when.
And no more there,
No more of then.

There's no more right,
There's no more wrong,
There's no more spite.
There's no too long,

There's no too late.
There's no too weak.
There is no great,
There is no meek.

And what of locusts?
And what of flies?
And what of trusts?
And what of lies?
And what of vines?
And vinegar?
And what of wines?
And brown sugar?

The old order of things
Has passed away
And tomorrow brings
Not one more day

No more any;
No more some.
No more every;
No more none.

There is no exile.
There is no throne.
There is no meanwhile.
There is no alone.

And nothing to mind,
And nothing to steal.
And no more blind,
And nothing to feel.

There's no more breath,
There's no more earth.
There's no more death,
There's no more birth.

There is no heaven,
There is no hell.
There is no graven,
There is no fell.

And no more remembered,
And no more forever,
And no more splendoured,
And no more not ever.

And no more.















~by the kist lich