THE MOLE
Part One






The mole is my brother, unkilled in the sacred ground. Embarkation: we are ready to invade, attack your sleeping mind. My brother the Mole inside, I on the outside of your skin reaching in to perceive a radiance gone stale.


This is a call to summon and invite, to swim across to a world awake, in the future unseen. We look inside to behold a force that can instruct your misery to turn its thorns the other way. We jump into your ears to come to your mind with a proposition to shine with atomic strength.
"Don't listen, don't hearken to the Others mouth. Go down to the visible entrance on your lower limbs to behold the workings of my brother the Mole. He flows into you from a thousand towns, fastening the hecatomb with bloody pins of roaring laughter. Can you hear him laughing inside you?"

There, sixteen palms called forth the extravagant imitation of a disheartened smile exluded from trance, outflowing eunuch-oil increasing the loss of mind with squanderous spoils of mud.
There, even smaller then smallest, a whirlwind curls in spiraling lines the reflection of an inferior prey, as twisted horns in living swamps. Dip one toe into the harmony of the whole; fill the snail with thunderstricken perplexity.





"You do plaster up the tongue, don't you, with your commerce unmoved?"










Opposite the kindling fire filled with blood the sacrificial night begins...

(...)