Nothing like some Seax Prose first thing in the Morning.
Smells Like…Victory.
in the beckoning twilight I find the darkness
lax and lazy, complacent, satisfied
loose it reigns, a careless abandon
and I laugh, I laugh and cry
how I found God in a khlysti sermon
so soft and weak, so pale like moonlight
dough between my fingers
a pampered darkness scarcely bleak
gone and away the weight from my chest
the laughing, cawing turns to me
I see myself in me
every vein a hissing snake roaring
shrieking backwards up Yggdrasil’s spine
where there the stellar serpent lies
Nidhogg, swallower of all
keeper of all that dies
sweet dragon of my brood
and there I feel between my hands
there i feel the neck that hollers
pleading, bleeding into me
but i can squeeze now
fingers writhe and palpate
tender embrace of hate
gentle as the silent dawn
killing night with kindness
no more enthralled
the darkness held underneath my knees
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The Tactical Hermit 