Monday, November 16, 2009


Pariah, caitiff, monster, all of these and more could only begin to describe it and you included. Yes, you who stand witness watching from without, these words are on you, as well. The toil of your hands the work of your will, it is the byproduct of your efforts we look upon with pity and fear.

The crystalline structure, the gray matter of the inner workings and house of the soul. Perfect in its complexity? Possibly, but this specimen is not perfect in execution. Like a hairline crack in the thinnest, pure alabaster porcelain, the ends of this dendrite fray and dissipate in all directions. The glass's shattering frozen in time. The neural pulse dissipated, clear deduction made ambiguous and the source of your crime so clear. Ambiguity, is this not the root of all our pain? Scintillating colors of dawn, the font of all beauty is the herald of wanderlust madness.

(c) Michael Mosher 2009


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