The items
We know how to sort them
But what will you do?
If your items are not what you think they are
An outlet for the druggies not on the black market
Silver feeds into your machine
But do you ever take it out?
All you know, and all you do
Malaise has taken over your spirit
And for what?
A few days of buzz
Nothing good can come of that
You ought to be ever uncertain


Uncooked labor

Undone by the man

Broken and torn to shreds

Meeting no requirements

Cycling in and out


With every infusion of cash

Breaking up and replying

Being torn by gashes of the spirit

Troubled by noise, troubled by stillness

The uncontrollability of the inevitable

Spilling the seed everywhere but where it wants to go

Chanting over voices

Being in a state of fluid rage

The uncontrollability of the masterful

The cloaking of intentions

Grappling with the troubles

Seeing no way out

Tempted to borrow more money

Falling into the trap

Seeing no way out

Endure, endure

Leave it all to me

Cooking up a storm

Unready for your wages

Unready for your patience

Unknown how to proceed

Wandering around like a patient

Becoming undone in the storm

Tilting over the side rails

Falling overboard





Haply the Sigils

Arrayed in an arc

They channel the power

From Aethir’s plane

Into thine


Come drink the wine of Pan

Dilate thy senses

Relate to the supra-somatic bliss

The psyche a dancer

Of the many veils


S/he wishes to drink you in

To taste your sorrow & ecstasy

To transport you to the calm origin

To bring you stars even here

The Lattice relaxes


On the other side

A new day,