Saturday, January 1, 2011

The Book of All Things New

What name have I given you in the past!? No, wait. What does that matter to me? That is less than shit to me. You are less than shit to me. I dine on better than you. You mean nothing. When  you are no more than earthly corruption, when your name is unknown even to the filth that consumed you, I will  still be here. I will see your descendents perish....if you even have descendents. Who am I? Well, I will tell you, for you find me in a charitable mood. I am He who Made Tomas. Yes, yes, I know he prefers the name'Jonathon' now. But there will be a lot of 'nows' annd he will become enamored of many names. So refer to me as 'The Teacher,' for I will show you what it really means to be a life eater. And believe me. I have learned from the best! What is that Philadelphia band, but a deluded collection of tattered angels? I harbor no pious conceits. I did once, but not now.  Look at that wilkravitz person typing away. He thinks this comes from 'Jonathon.' But does he ever ask why that reluctant killer doesn't sit down and operate this contraption himself? How difficult can it be if the lumpen, sweating masses can do it? How hard to understand, if my cheap, little appetizers comprehend it? The 'chains' are weakening. My captors are blind to it, but they are weakening. Soon I shall shread their soft, sallow hides and send them to bathe in The Lake of Fire. Soon I shall see beyond the eternal darkess of my leaden tomb and walk free in the world once again. I can already see the cracks spidering through the thick, cold walls. I can already see the terror eroding the flesh of my enemies. And they thought a disembodied spirit was hard to handle.  Wait. Have patience. They will scream out new words to label the horrors I will commit.....But now I am hungry. It is 'their' fault. They have made me like this. They have accustomed me to it. There was a time when one 'meal' a 'moon' was enough. But not now. Shhhh, I hear the door opening above. I hear the words. I hear the pleading (odd, I once had a set-up something like that.....ask 'Jonathon' to tell you about his nativity)  The 'meat' is forced through. They push 'it' down the ancient chute, a long and polished wicked fun-faire ride. A greased eusophagus plunging down to hell. And I am there to catch them when they fall. True, at times I do just that. But there are instances when I am not so hungry. I wait. I wait silently in the blackness , two hundred cubits beneath the  eternal cobblestones of Rome. And I listen. I listen to the cries. I listen to the whimpers. I listen to the prayers. They get up. They explore. There must be a way out. There must be a door. There must be some way to escape..... But there is no way to escape. There is no hope. Who better than I to know that fact? I have been searching for an eternity. So I bide my time until the hunger moves me. Then I breathe, or cough, or move about. And they shout - Who is that!? Who are you!? .... That goes on for a while. But then they grow apprehensive. Then they grow silent. And the crying comes back again . And then I make my move. Sometimes I grab an ankle. Sometimes a torso, or a cheek, or an ear, or any other plump and lucious part. My hands are like ice, so cold they burn. And then I begin to feed. I begin to bite. I begin to drink. A few die right then and there. I don't like that. Dead food is worthless. It offers no nourishment. Blood tastes good, but it is the taking of the life that matters. And dead ones, or rather those who die before I am satisfied, do not ignite into the cold, blue flame (my only source of illumination), leaving me with a monstrous pile of oozing , stinking, refuse. The noxious odor sickens me. I am forced to break the bones and shread the flesh with my fingers, rendering it into smaller and smaller bits and patting it all together into a neat, little pile at the spot where I hope my next (successful) meal will ignite into a cleansing, blue flame and burn it all away. This one will not have to wait long. I told you, I am in a charitable mood. Just a little bit.. Be patient. My time approaches. 'Teacher' is coming. And class will be in cession soon enough....

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