Troy

Why, I wish that strife would vanish away from among gods and mortals,
and gall, which makes a man grow angry for all his great mind,
that gall of anger that swarms like smoke inside of a man’s heart
and becomes a thing sweeter to him by far than the dripping of honey.’

– Homer, The Illiad (18. 107-110)

In the depths of Achilleus’s dream space, it was known his hatred was too well hatred for himself. And the indifferent view I have of my window was nothing but grey and white noise of a path that inversed its existence after spring has left. I was told to surface at my own pace, but the abyss stared into my back and I’ve broke the water surface with my left ventricle plague by embolism. When will kindred spirits decode the cityscape through my window? When will one particular amalgam of universe dust decode the cityscape through my window?

What is glory if she chose to be happy, like diamonds in the sky?

“I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell’s fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan’s men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you’d return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)”

– Mad Girl’s Love Song, Sylvia Path

I think it all seeps through, like coming into the room soaked in summer thunder. I step through the wood boards as plant oils and the chemical compound geosmin vaporizes with my footsteps.

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