DEIMOS

DEIMOS

ISBN-10: 1482378787ISBN-13: 978-1482378788

DEIMOS

BLOOD OCEAN BOOKS

DEIMOS

JOHN

COSTA

DEIMOS

DEIMOS

D E I M O S

DEIMOS

Bellum Temporum

Tempus cubare creatur igitur nos confusum

Vera ipse clara et non quaretur conversum socratum ita

Ex crepuscule et deltrium novorum venemini etiam

Deus mortem visum de speculo et nunc tamen vocabo

Hoc mundorum quaretis animas flammas exspiras

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In The Arms of Aeon

Hissing snakes from the ground sounding through the wind

Sinking the flesh and chilling the spine

Mapping the synchronicity of time

Logos pulling arms through the blind

Light years bending strands of veiled illusions

Peer witness to Aeon

Where she calls to he

Where she is

Eternally holding arms

A cup pouring water

Into the boundless sea

AEON OLD INTO AEON NEW

He took her hand in tranquility

The sound so blaring

As she walked him through the sharpest truths

Her nature spoke “All is right.”

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And so it goes that he fell into her arms tonight, sunken

Bid farewell to the pain released into itself

Flowing pleasure heaven

He closed his eyes and all turned blue

So he walked into it

Vibrancy

Frequency

Perfect wisdom

Sophia unveiled

Blinding so fine

Vision realized too true

Fallen in love

DEIMOS

The Furies

The shadow of a dead oak falls on the earth

The dead leaves whistling in a cold breeze

When the time is broken our ties to heaven tear like lies of

untold fates

The Furies break through and wreak havoc on lives

The lines of reality to a delusional nightmare

A storm clears in the eye and there’s a calm in the air

Wont habits and thinking to be destroyed and unlearned

Through creative method

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A RUNE IN THE RUINS

The gaze in the mirror is lost and alone…

At first glance is a man in distress

His eyes start sinking and the pupils open deep

The flesh sends off heat and the eyes fade further to black

holes in the face

The image transforms slowly melting expressions on a

mask of unknown possibility

The face old a thousand years

And the face turns mean and then smiles old and wise

Dark plasm flows from the eyes all around the mask

Shifting little imperfections of being one to another

It shakes itself off only to be pulled back in by the eyes

Again and again the pupils open up and the flesh and the

blood turn hot melt the face vaguely

Now there’s a dead man’s face with brittle hair in his beard

His eyes dissolving the judgment and fears and intentions

of living

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The eyes turn liquid and the plasm stretches like amoeba,

swallowing all of being slowly and surely

It grows and grows covering the room, the house, and the

town

It devours the countries and the oceans

And finally the globe is all swallowed in deep space

Just as I swallow this fruit I throw out the peel

And it lay there for days and dries up

For weeks and it shrivels for months and years and it’s

barely there but still something is left aimlessly

wandering…

Like swinging a blade

Creating destruction

I dream alone at night traversing myself

The inner tunnels, the labyrinth of my destiny

Fighting just makes it hurt

Letting go so blissfully

It came time to do what I always knew I would

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The journey itself the destination, with the only reason

being why

The battlefield for progress in a mind field

In the beginning together as one

I landed my ship and headed for the long journey home

And so it said “When you transist the OM it will soothe so

sweet.”

Reappearing on the triumph of your virtue on the day we

meet

I don’t know you yet, or so it seems, so long ago, and so

soon, we age older and older

And we are traveling the world

Just to see “What’s out there?”

And “It this for me?”

Or “How about that?!”

I settle on the coast between to oceans

I write by the fire in a humble home

I eat modest meals and wander the rainforest

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I swim in the rivers where third world children play

I soak in the sun and rest on the beaches

I never have the time for the life of me

I simply sit cross legged by the waves where the tropic

summer stretches so long

The tide ebbs and flows in harmony like the wild fires in

your eyes

We drown in beauty so out of time

And with the battle long over laying there to rest I see the

joy and the pain all in good jest

Now the wind blows easy in the palm of my hand

And through the shape of the world I find my creation

The driving focus threw the day dream in motion

Just as Archimedes the Greek constructed bronze cogs and

founting water in Antikytheara

Measuring the movements of the heavens

It must have broken his heart when it sank to the bed of the

Mediterranean

Rusting and waiting to be discovered for centuries

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Like all the flames of knowledge from the burning books

when Alexandria’s library was torched in antiquity

A fire that settled as the ashes we call the dark ages

And now there’s a spark of a dawning a new day

And in a fever my heart begs to be free

It all came down so fast I couldn’t believe

She spoke clearly

Her name Athena

And she’s guiding the exploding desire

To the twilight where the attraction is real

Before I was foolish, anxiously running from myself

Scattered and torn like leaves and branches in fall

The gardens adorned like a puzzle so pieced sleep walking

itself back into place

My aim was askew downward and inward to nothing

But hers was dead on and she hit the target with no sin no

sine just two points in a perfect straight line

The magic is gone and everything is clear

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We both feel no fear

The buildings are towering

And no one knows what to expect

Sitting here waiting for the sun and moon to set

All flawlessly flowing in the sands of time

Just then a lantern was lit

I find myself in a dragon’s lair

Where he lies sleeping in slumbers dream for Aeon

He barely awoke at my knock on the door

And mumbled “Just leave me be I’m sleeping 'til dead.”

I felt what he meant and looked down to the ground and

started to turn around

It is here where the bone yards of men and their horses lie

dead in the dust a cold and dark air blows in the cave and I

wrap my arms around myself

The water is a dark and acquiescent with no reflection at all

Suddenly very far off a dim light appears

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Blindly making my way through those serpentine tombs

following the growing light

I stumble on a golden room bursting open my eyes

Colorful paintings, and sculptures, and cryptic writings

All scrawled on the walls

In the center rests gold and silver and jewels

With hanging veined fruits for the hand of god

While outside in the desert vultures are preying and the

carrion rots in the valley of plagues

But here a laughter flows melodious from the mystic breath

of afterlife

And so it goes timelessly turning today as before and ever

again

We return and the quest is a white rose

From your mother and father given to you a long time ago

That you thought you’d lost

You sought it out and found it here

A rune in the ruins of a broken mirror

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The Frozen Garden

Deeply gaze into the sands of time,

To the frozen garden, your existence;

Watch as it melts to so many puddles,

See as the sun rises from the other side

And tends to unforeseen possibilities,

And synchronicity collapses your perception of self, being,

and consciousness,

Transmuting you to the infinite spiral conscience,

Do the waters hit the earth like crystalline memories?

Are you reborn yet again, only to awaken to one?

The resonating ring of your circulated bliss,

In the frozen Garden of the own existence…

DEIMOS

ON CUTTING

Your doing it wrong

You break the shaving razor with your hands

Retrieve the blade

Your wrists tremble in reluctance

You slice them into beautiful red waterfalls circling the

drain

You realize the pain is real

Emotional pain being meaningless

You get to feel something

High and delusional

You burn the blood unto the internet

DNA satellites

Helicopters circle above

Dry mundane daze

You realize yourself in the mirror

Mediocrity and oppression

Neurotic depression

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They all hang like raven wings

Look yourself in the eyes

Tell yourself

Continue to circle the drain

There is no such thing as rock bottom

DEIMOS

Dear Phoenix,

I’ve been busy moving into the new place so I

haven’t been able to get back to you. It’s right off the Great

Highway; I can essentially roll out of bed with the pacific

sands between my toes. It is a bit pricey for a flat but the

location can’t be beat.

I’ve just been unloading boxes I packed in a rush

after graduation to get out of the dorms. Little treasures

were buried deep in the school junk, so I had to go through

everything.

It’s a nice city. I’ve always thought you should

come out here for a weekend. Now that you’re all grown up

in high school and all, Mom might let you take the Grey

hound. If you’re interested, ask her about it and I’ll buy the

ticket.

I miss you, and I get real home sick. I’ll be walking

through the city and catch myself nostalgic. I’ll start

imagining the freezing Colorado snow crunching under my

boots, walking in layered jackets while rubbing my gloves

as I can see my breath.

I know things have been hard for you since I left.

Just good be good to mom okay, don’t give her any shit. I

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know you’re too young to tell, but she hasn’t been the same

since dad passed. Anyways, she told me Aunt Silva moved

Grandpa into an old folk’s home. The Alzheimer’s is taking

its toll.

Mom said they went to check on him and he

introduced himself, then he said he’s working there. Mom

played along, but the way I see it, at least he feels purpose.

He was always such a coy joker, you know? The way he

would claim he invented the hook shot. I can just picture

him on his Missouri high school basketball team in the 50s

convinced he invented the hook shot. Anyways, I’ll be back

during the holidays to visit.

I’m starting a paper pushing job next month. It

doesn’t make much use of the Film Degree, but yeah… a 9

to 5 grind to get my feet off the ground and pay back my

student loans. Mom thinks I should do grad school, but I’m

done. I need a break.

Seems like all I see is filthy concrete and towering

skyscrapers….buzzing electric lights and leering billboard

and all the frustrated faces of these day dreaming

strangers… so yeah, I planted some wildflowers next to the

window they’re just waiting to bloom.

DEIMOS

I was on a walk this afternoon and I saw Mike at the

piers. You remember Mike, he came out from Boulder with

me, all hyped on a basketball scholarship, ready to study

Calculus. I almost didn’t recognize him, all wrapped up in a

dirty parka with a beanie stretched over the lines on his

forehead.

A dark paleness fell from his eyes, bloodshot in

soaking misery. His voice broke as he told me he was back

at the clinic, taking methadone.

Such a sham, the chill fog clearing over the bay, and

he’s in line for a wretched fix.

I’m telling you Phoenix it’s the same dull and dying

story taking the best from dusk to dusk.

I miss you bro, I dreamt of you the other night.

You were riding a giant black horse through

thundercloud over crashing waves and the Golden Gate.

You struck down a lance and everything rained down like

shattering obsidian. And a loan grain was tossed into the

mouth of a giant oyster.

Then I awoke and it was storming.

I couldn’t fall back asleep.

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So I listened to that CD you sent me.

Thanks by the way, the package came as a total

surprise. It was sitting on the dorm floor during finals. I

unwrapped the boxes smiling. I knew it was you. I listened

to it for the first time on a cable car. I totally fell in love

with it. I’ve been singing along in the apartment with no

clue who the bands are or what songs are called.

Thanks again.

I’ll see you soon.

Follow your dreams,

Immanuel

DEIMOS

Gypsy

“May I help you?”

“The Friday night crowd fills the café, conversation

and laughter flowing with the jazz band’s music and a

clattering soft roar of espresso machines. Taking my cup

from the barista, I nod and give her a “Thank you.” I tap

light roast because it has the most caffeine.

Sipping my coffee as I walk out the double doors

onto the sidewalk patio, the moon stands cool waning

among scattered stars sprinkled in the indigo sky. Cars pass

to my left, a small crowd mingles at benches smoking. I

kick back with a cigarette, enjoying my coffee. A peculiar

old man in a black coat and a golfer’s cap paces the

sidewalk before me, mumbling to himself. He’s going off;

all I can make out are the words “hydrogen” “oxygen” and

a whole lot of mumbling to himself. Scratching his gray

goatee and speaking in scattered technical terms, he pokes

his fingers into thin air counting under his breath. I shake

my head in disbelief; this town is full of crazies.

My friend, M. walks up, she gestures with her cup

and sits next to me. She sips her coffee and sets it

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deliberately onto the table. She lights a smoke then flashes

a smirk, noticing the old man.

“Anyway, how’re you doing?” I ask.

“Oh, good man, yourself?”

“Same old, same old.”

“Are you going to school?” M. asks.

“I dropped out. I‘ve always wanted to do school

though.”

The man pacing stops and points at me with a

curiously lazy finger, and asks me if I am going to school.

Caught off guard for a second I look at him, and

hesitantly answer.

“Yea, I might.”

“What are you going to study?” He asks.

“Well, I have to finish math and science.”

“Well... hey take your time, understand.” His hands

flow in circles.

M. and I look the guy up and down. He has and aura

of eloquence about him; I often enjoy conversations with

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strangers here at the coffee shop. I once met a guy who had

been backpacking across the country for a number of years.

He had a lot of interesting things to say. Maybe this guy is

not just so insane after.

“Definitely, it is important to understand material.”

I agree with him.

“Understanding brings about positive awareness,

you see, and positive awareness is spirituality. Dogma is a

form of tunnel vision. My understanding is… in terms you

understand…God is a word that has been around for

millennia. Well, God, as they say; is a fulcrum, and that is

to bring about positive awareness. God is turning a negative

to a positive… chemicals in a liquid state… there are

countless variables involved and in all probability the

future has limitless possibilities. The mind is made of many

different elements existing in a liquid state. Positive

awareness.”

M. sets her coffee cup down conclusively.

The man starts pacing, stroking his goatee again.

“What’s a fulcrum?” M. asks me.

“It is a leverage point.” I say matter-of-factly.

DEIMOS

My friend nods her head in understanding and sips

her coffee.

The guy seems to know what he is talking about. He

speaks through a modest raspy voice, and I get the feeling

he’s been through a lot. I am not quite sure what he means

by his definition of God, I understand the concept but it

seems vague.

“Chemicals?” I stop him to expand.

“Yes, neurotransmitters, it all happens in a liquid

state. God created us in his spiritual image.”

“Like creation… hmmm…” I never thought of it

like that. When I think of god I usually think of an old man

with a beard or some vaguely eternal river. Perhaps, there’s

something to this thought of God as a measure for positive

awareness.

“Anyone want to buy some rings?” A grey haired

woman wearing blue jeans and a denim jacket with a purple

scarf wrapped around walks up with a set of rings on a

large key ring in her hands.

“They are five dollars.” She adds as she holds them

toward us.

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“They look nice,” the old man tells her.

M. looks idly and casually shrugs, the woman

moves on to show some other people in the crowd.

I smile, the old man is strange, I thought he was just

a rambling mad man.

“Why are certain stones considered precious?” I

ask.

“Rarity” He concludes.

“What is quartz, or obsidian? Some say it absorbs

negative energies?”

“A talisman…like a crucifix, a focus, a meditation,

you see. You and me and her, we can only know what we

know through our own experience.” The man says.

I slowly lose interest as he fades out and I can no

longer follow what he is saying conceptually or audibly. He

is pacing back and forth, I am a little irritated because I was

enjoying the conversation.

I attempt to bring him back down to my level.

“What did you do today?”

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That is when we started getting into politics and

straying into areas too abstract for me to handle.

“You know there is a difference between words like

truth and table. You can’t argue with the word table.” I say

finally.

M. looks at me. Our coffee is all gone and I know it

is time to go.

“I‘m Saul.” I put out my hand.

“Gypsy.” he responds with a humble smile.

DEIMOS

Magic

Those interested in knowledge of practical use of

hermetic magic. The origin of these spells is unknown, and

the personages of the church which founded these rites

have been lost for aeon. Understanding them is necessary

for those who wish to use them, though I do not

recommend the reader to unless the guide is taken

seriously.

The simplicity of the spells depends upon the mage

using them, higher faith is needed for the desired outcome

to reach its occurrence one simply will require a table, a set

of instruments representing the five elements, earth wind

fire water and ether.

For earth a bowl of salt should work just fine.

For wind unlit candles.

For fire sedimentary rocks or ground match heads

or gun powder.

For the water one might use a bowl with water.

Keep the cards on the east end of the table, and the

birth stones on the west.

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Handmade ornaments of leather and hemp with bird

feathers shall be the ether. The fate of the spell is up to you,

so beware and yield to the order of THE.

Dismantle the muse as a radical politically ripening

tragic fruit. I to be the heroine of the future or the past.

The basics of wondering the bohemia.

Profusely arrayed images mystically breaking the

trees smoke in abundance my lung exhaled in a thousand

verses I saw back then in the euphorium of time and

essence.

“Shy away from this.” She said to me, the priestess,

and my guide, taken from her shuttle

I broke the spell by tracking numbers cast into the

chorus of ocean.

Opioid addiction taken into levels I’d never dropped

to before, the apomorphine hit so many as I rose to the top

unshunned by few I took a deep breath and settled to the

sound of the music.

Circulation of blood through the veins the circuits

faculty tearing the electric. Hash devils beware Hassan I

Sabah and the assassins took the man’s head.

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As the sole woman on the team I was brought to the

mountain to profess to the emperor the miracle which had

not even occurred yet. I had no doubt even prima facie of

the stone wall to entrance was appearing at dawn like a

yawning jaws of mystery.

Neglecting labor fields in death trine. Signs of the

times. A clock falling away into the bullet through the

picturesque.

The nod was on.

Shape shifters on the black strobe light ceiling,

ancestral and pure.

Television flickering static, the music way too loud.

Starting to feel sick to my stomach, I fell in the bathroom

vomiting.

Shadows clinging to my person in the wilderness of

my mind.

I’d passed this a million times before, primal and

free. Stolen from the details parasitic side effects.

Coming clean burning three days later with road the

night cold and the wind shield crackling and freezing flesh

feeling released and my soul realigned.

DEIMOS

I’ve never felt so dreamy I opened the door and

walked up to the stone house my hands brittle and broken I

needed more pills.

Her face shocked that they were already gone.

I shrugged and she understood.

She drove and we got more.

She gave me a shot, my first one, and for a moment

was the only feeling I ever wanted to feel ever.

Liquid.

Liquid metal.

Liquid metal.

Local Bohemian natives mingle with their cigarette

pulling the cards undone.

One stomps a bug and smiles.

`“Amici pro esse meus lodi, nocte est meretricie ad

nexus.”

Rhythmic flow of the currents flew toward the east

into what one would call methodological sounds and

theorem from X1 and X2, the harmony and dissonance

being the creationism of art.

DEIMOS

“I’ve got a present for you.”

“What? You serious?”

I sat up a little straighter and smiled.

“Yea, seeing how tonight is Halloween and all.”

She started to unlock the desk drawer which was

filled with a stash of various pills.

I smiled and grabbed the mix.

“You fucker! MINE!”

“Haha, yeah.”

My eyes closed as we sunk into the mattress.THE.

DEIMOS

Ghost Town

The skull and bones of a dead horse lay strewn

across the cracked earth. The blistering heat of the sun

reflects off the pale ribs of the skeleton. High above in the

clear blue sky a hawk circles the desolate weeds in the dry

heat from the sun. In the distance the lone road of Ghost

Town stretches across the desert, old wooden buildings line

the dusty road and a few people stand in the street.

At the small bar a man leans against the wood of the

building on the deck smoking a cigarette with his hat low

over his face. His lazy eyes fall on some crows scavenging

in the dust. Mumbling to himself dragging his cigarette.

Inside the doors a crowd of drunks, gamblers and

gunslingers drink their fill. Rogelio, the bartender, is a man

with an uncanny knack for connections; he can make

anything happen for anyone at any time; which is a rare gift

in a place like this.

Ghost Town became an attraction for sin, people

pick up and leave for a while, but crowds mingle from time

to time passing through. The town is on and off with

drifters of all walks of life with no real permanent

residents. Indefinite kicks and a roll of the dice and people

would just vanish and reappear.

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Outside a man pulls up barely running and wearing

expressions of expectation and hope from the stranger out

front. He tosses the cigarette into his direction.

“Hi.”

“How you doing?”

“Mateo?”

The stranger lifts his eye in dull blank stare, fully

ready for the deal, or to explain it to him.

“No one wants your contact here, film is no good.”

The stranger’s face pulled tough against his

jawbone his eyes lacking all intention. Again his gaze falls

to the crows walking in the dust. He spits on the wood of

the deck.

Mateo, looks through the doors, drunken

conversation flows.

“What did they say?”

“No good.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yep.”

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The stranger’s eyes flash red and Mateo is gripped,

lifting him off the deck he throws him through the air with

the birds.

“It’s no good, they won’t take it. Rogelio and I

don’t need you around here and we don’t work for free, so

we’ll see your money by sun down.” He puts his hands into

his pockets. Mateo falls away.

The stranger lights another smoke.

Birds hang on the rooftop as the sun travels through

sky.

The stranger lowers his hat and exhales grey haze

through his teeth. Rogelio wipes down the bar.

Mateo drives home in mumbling disbelief. His film

written noir, not accepted. Kris, an actor in the film is at his

home on the couch prepping a shot.

The phone starts to ring.

“Hello? No good, really? Yeah, fuck, alright, I’ll be

there.” He slams the receiver.

Mateo, in the basement, cleans the 9mm over the

projection screen of the dark concrete wall, low tones and

sounds of conversation two men have over the clicking

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reel. His face is lit up by the steel, he kisses the gun in the

reflection of the grey light.

Rogelio serves the last drunk, a whisky on the

rocks.

“Do you think he will show?”

Stranger drags a cigarette, the birds with their heads

hanging silent on the rooftop of the building across the

street. The sun goes down over the rusty metal signs of the

old station across the street as the darkness creeps in. He

blows thick smoke into the desert night, “Yes.”

Mateo with the steel in his pants and Kris with his

tight, pull up.

They figured they’d roll in slipping through the

doors, he knew the stranger never watched the film, so he

wouldn’t recognize Kris. They could retrieve the film after,

he figured in arrogance to kill.

They sneak in past the stranger just as he walks in.

Their bodies pile up easily and effortlessly they’re

gone from existence.

Rogelio will have to get someone to clean this

fuckin’ blood up.

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The stranger grunts at the stains.

He walks back out and looks at the birds in the

moonlight, a street lamp flickers on at the station and he

drags another smoke.

A tumble weed blows toward the dead horse where

two more ravens fly in the night.

DEIMOS

The Big Bang

Basically put it was the end of the big bang. Things

in the universe were turning in on themselves. Time was

speeding up and slowing down at indeterminable rates, the

machines people used to measure such things were no

longer relevant. If they tried, they would just tell you

irrational numbers, or numbers that didn’t exist at all. The

religious said God was angry and punishing man, the

apocalypse.

There were a number of dimensional shifts and

people disappearing into thin air. There was a radical

growth in the number of UFO sightings. There were

galactian alignments of unimaginable proportions causing a

sort of rewinding of the whole history of certain Galaxies.

Stars were shrinking and growing sucking up whole solar

systems they provided. Ravenous black holes were eating

each other and these pits of the universe were just like

landmines of universal trash. Dark matter was inverted into

matter and was taking over the entire system, but most

likely it was popular belief anyway, is that it was in charge

the entire time the universe has existed.

I am going to tell you about how it all changed

humanity and maybe some other existences in other realms

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and planets. See, humans have always been the most

interesting creatures, most life in the universe is below the

level of having any sort of consciousness at all. Some do,

of course but simply on an instinctual level. And then there

is the super evolved beings that have become so

technologically and biologically advanced that there is just

no diversity at all, and they are doomed to fail. The humans

have had a unique balance on this scale which had resulted

in a great diversity of cultures and ideas within the species

that the humans at this time were very confused and

cultures were going through erratic changes after the huge

technology booms and the great number of natural

disasters. People were frightened and acting as if they still

had control over things. When in fact the truth was quite

different.

People were sinking back into another dark ages,

machines no longer useful, they had to rely upon ancient

methods of doing things. For example the computers were

going hay wire and the old pc had to be revived, the

handhelds were spontaneously combusting. Some even

resorted to using books for information, which had long

been outdated and were only kept in libraries and a few

museums. But more importantly is the war that was started,

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roughly between the western and eastern hemispheres. It

was all about uniting the planet in a desperate time in order

preserve humanity itself. The western countries wanted a

monarchical kingdom way of governing. While the

easterners wanted a democratic way. The problem with that

is there was so many people on earth at this time it was

really unrealistic to have elections. Either way, that is

where my story begins.

Captain: “We’re going in boys. Hesitation is death.

Over”

All pilots repeat: “Hesitation is death”

Captain: “1-7, left, 8-14 stay right, 15-20 stay with

me. Over and out.”

The captain flew straight into his destiny, knowing

that this would be the end he unhitched his face mask and

took a swig from the old flask.

“Ugh, strong shit.”

He put the cap on the bottle refitted his face mask

and sped toward the enemy plans.

In an underground government control center

somewhere in the western empire the highest ranking

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military leaders sat around a circular table discussing

options to be taken for order to win the war. The best idea

they could come up with was then sent to the monarch who

in turn approved of the plan. Operation east it was an idea

brought up by general Moraugh, it outlined aerial border of

the east and drop enough fire power to destroy the east 10

times over.

The men got in their planes. Which were lined up

on the concrete. Ship decks in perfect grids. Held their

weapon all alike. The bomb titled “Resolve”. They began

to hover over the decks of the ships. Which lay just outside

the eastern ocean’s border. The planet, few expecting to

live, feeling hopeless. Though they were able to fly high.

Enough to escape the damage. The risk was still great.

Each team of pilots came flying in swarms. The

used even older technologies and their weak radars couldn’t

detect a thing. It was too late for them.

The earth in the east was a dry cracked desert from

end to end. The bombs left such elephantine cracks that it

was melting to the core. All that was left was sands and no

biological life was ascertainable to the pilots above. Just

that brownish powder. And sand storms over their graves.

DEIMOS

The news in the west spread quickly, everyone

celebrated. No one was concerned with the people of the

east because no one valued them. Most people several

stories underground or couldn’t even see the ground at all

because they were piled so high up in sky scrapers. Some

never even saw the ground and they didn’t even know

about it. They just lived in oblivion to the ground. Some

wouldn’t believe it unless they saw it for themselves.

The west won. But at what cost? Half of the planet

obliterated? This lead to natural disasters and enough

radiation to kill or mutate the humans left.

The radiological mass spreading in the desert east

lead to a number of mutations from the biological material

left in the powder on the ground. The earth began to take

form. Dirt clumps took life. They evolved and grew

quickly. But they never escaped the form of sand clumps.

Dirt clump men even took form fighting each other in the

rain. And finally they were primitive giants. They clumped

around there fighting one another. They just wanted to end

their lives at first. Then they evolved further and further to

nomadic tribes. They fought another and actually found one

another. Upon the western border and in the cities they

formed they found peace. They had never seen such

DEIMOS

warriors and governments began to revive the western

democracy.

The helicopters began to land back at base with the

planes after the occupation. It was really just a big

inconvenience. Mad men roamed the world looking for the

unocean of thought they never found. The myth of the

conscious oasis in the east that the people discovered just a

rumor after all. Just selling dreams to the elite, strata of sky.

DEIMOS

The Wharf

Joey, Sal, and Danny stood at the wharf, the cool

bay breeze blowing through the crowd of people. The guys

hung out there most of the time, it was sort of like a

meeting place where anyone could meet up with others and

get some business going when times got tough. Joey, who

had been trying hard to get some money together to raise

his kid, who was just in middle school, needed some

dough.

“I got a deal for you.” Sal said.

“Yeah? What’s the deal?” Joey asked skeptical. He

never really liked Sal, he was always bringing around

trouble.

“It’s simple, you just get me some of the stuff from

Jack, and I got some guys who’d really be interested.”

“How much we talking?” Joey asked.

“Yeah, how much?” Danny was Joeys partner, he

sort of just hung around him like he was his younger

brother or something, but Joey, didn’t mind, he loved the

kid, he’d treat him like his own brother too.

DEIMOS

“Well, seeing as you’ve got to cut me in too, I’d

imagine you could get a good couple of G’s for yourself in

the end. They’re looking for a key.” Sal calculated.

A key was a lot of stuff, but Joey knew Jack had his

connections, so he figured all would be fine, as long as Jack

was cool.

Newspapers strewn everywhere, there were a few

books about mechanics and gun catalogues scattered on the

tables and floors. Old coffee mugs half filled with cigarette

butts and dirty articles of clothing hung from various lights

and coat hooks. He sat on the couch in a wife beater

hanging loose over his sick yellow flesh dimly lit by the

sun through the kitchen window.

Jacky was a hell of a fighter with a mean face, you

couldn’t tell by looking at the guy, real thin and weak

looking, but he could punch your lights out and you

wouldn’t even see it coming. He was the sort of guy who

lived real cheap but made good money. A miser of sorts.

He’d buy the cheapest box meals and use 1 ply TP

and didn’t have a TV or nothing like that. His furniture

smelt of sour ass and was made of old wood liable to break

any moment. He lead life behind the scenes, didn’t like

DEIMOS

being seen, always looking over his shoulder in public. He

sat eating his twenty cent soup from the pot with a plastic

fork which he probably picked up at a cafeteria he had

eaten at a month or two earlier.

The door slammed open.

“Fucking Christ man, why you got to bust in like

that?!”

“Shit, we’re fucked Jack!”

“What the fuck?” He stood up. “You fuck this up?”

“Man, they busted the Diamond.”

Dan Dakota, a.k.a. Danny the Diamond, a street kid

with nowhere else to go was now sitting downtown in a

holding cell. Started hanging out with the boys at the wharf

late last year, he didn’t name any names, he’s no rat.

“So I take it you didn’t get the dough?” Jacky

turned and looked down at the newspaper and carpet.

“No man, Danny got popped. I barely got away, had

to break out the back, I ran all the way here. Sal, that

bastard must have smelt trouble…”

DEIMOS

“Should have never fucking taken the risk, should

have known there’d be pigs, the Shark pool is fucking hot.

Fucking swine!” Jacky kicked the table leg, it broke and the

soup went flying.

He flashed red and poked Joe real hard in the chest

and said “You mother fucker, you did a real slop job here,

didn’t you? You go back there and find out exactly what

went wrong and if somebody squealed you find him and

you break his fucking legs before you bring him to me!”

His face went bright red. “You dig?!”

Joe lifted his hands and nodded.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

Joe walked out the door and Jacky swung it shut

behind him and shook his head. He put his hand to his

forehead and paused before grabbing a button up shirt,

tucking his revolver into his pants, and headed out the door.

Frank was the big boss, he lived in a two story

mansion on the west end. There were gardeners out front

and a maid answered the door.

“This is very unsettling, Jack.”

“Yeah boss, I know.”

DEIMOS

Frank changed his tone.

“Now you get me that money Jack, or I get your

balls on my mantle you got me?”

Joey was walking down the avenue towards the

Shark Pool, where the deal had gone wrong. Inside the

bartender pulled his shot gun.

“You got a lot of nerve showing back up here, Joe.”

“Look, I need to talk to Sal, he here?” Joe asked the

bartender.

“Sal ain’t here, ain’t seen him neither.”

He waived the gun motioning toward the door.

“Alright. I’m gone.”

Joey went to the wharf.

Sal was a fuck up. And he did a real bang up job at

it too.

According to Sammy the rat, who was the only one

at the wharf, the cops had showed up looking for Sal

because his girlfriend’s Ma had called the cops after he’d

robbed her place again. When Sal found out the heat was

onto him, he booked town. So said Sammy the Rat.

DEIMOS

Joe left the wharf and never came back, he didn’t

want any more of this business, and he’d had enough.

It was no way to raise his kid.

He felt bad for Danny sitting behind bars for this

whole mess, poor kid. Diamond wouldn’t do much time

though, the pigs would eventually give him a program and

probation and that’d be that.

After about a week Joe left town with his kid.

Jacky was pissed because he hadn’t heard news and

knew it would mean his balls. He was in back at home in

the middle of the night when three goons busted in and duct

taped his mouth shut, hog tying his hands and feet like an

animal.

They threw him in a body bag and carried him to

the trunk.

He struggled like a fish out of water but sunk like a

rock to the bottom of the bay when they threw him off the

wharf.

DEIMOS

PROJECT PROMETHEUS

Part one: The Deep Blue

Holes in the floor

Puddles of mercury

Shafts of light

Floating upward

Filling the soul

Those empty holes

Once stuffed with self - deceit

Made born again from such little faith

Grown from providence

Once slept in the night as do others

Now it is known

Sober and Serious

Child of light

The thief on the cross

In expectation of understanding

DEIMOS

To be blessed

The brethren hand in hand

Carrying the armor of God

Into a battle of spirits

Breaking the deceit

To meet at the edge of fate

Becoming a part of you

Through love and faith prevail

Pulled this design

Into the deep blue

There he was, walking through a party in his own

home, full of people he did not know. Or at least did not

recognize in all the detachment of night. Holes in the floor,

shafts of blue light shooting upward. He watched with

sullen eyes as the music faded and stumbling drunk girls all

the meager and last lingering fallen of a dying party. He

walked through the set of strangers out the back door.

The sun was on the rise over the autumn wood. A

bird fountain stood dry with a gray statue of a cherub in

fleeting stone hope. He walked off the property further into

DEIMOS

the fallen leaves and dry dirt. He looked down and saw his

body lying dead under some leaves. A dead tree rest over a

creek leading him back to the house.

Everyone is gone now.

He walked toward the room and its dark with some

light coming from under the door.

He opened it and shafts of light open up from the

floor like mercury to close and reopen again. The body is

past out on the bed, wide eyed in the doorway. The body

dreaming of an army of red armored horses flying through

the sky and being left on earth with walls crumbling

upward in magma scorching grounds where we left the

heart in the night.

All from the lived so long ago and now that’s gone.

Reality stays true. “I am my art” he says “and what we are

creating is me, watch as the muse pulls me through.” A

dead body.

They marched down the path toward the shore. One

could hear the ocean’s roar and the night sky was clear and

the stars and moon lay gently scattered in an indigo back

drop.

DEIMOS

Xy and Gen came out on a whim, they had their

back packs and a duffle bag with wood and some

newspapers for a fire. They stood at the cliff side before

walking down the wooden steps. Gen looked at him and

lifted his eyes and Xy smiled back at her.

The ocean waves flowing with all their glory. They

stared at the scene as they walked down, conversing how

happy they were to decide to come out to the coast. They

got to the shore and put their things by a log facing the

waters.

They each lit a cigarette and started to build the fire.

The wood came from a pile in the back yard and they

placed a few small twigs with the newspaper to start in the

shape of a pyramid, Gen lit it with her lighter.

They held their hands together and blew on it,

rearranging the little sticks to get it started. The yellow

flame started up and the kindling was lit. It cracked and

popped as it became fully enflamed. They added a few

larger logs and set it up to burn.

Xy lay down face first in the sand and Gen did the

same. The fire felt warm against the cold ocean air. The

sand flowed through their fingers as they dug their hands

DEIMOS

into it and watched the fire heat up. The flames went from

yellow to orange then red.

He sat up on the log facing the shore and watched

the fire burn. Smoke was carried up wind and the fire

cracked and all the logs were burning.

He lit another cigarette.

Gen, still lying on her stomach, sat up a little with

her arms in the sand.

They noticed the bright red and the deep orange and

blue in the pit of the flames. It was transforming into

different levels of brightness as the heat grew with the

wind.

Xy took a drag off his cigarette and when he was

done threw it into the flames and watched it burn and coil

into ash. Gen sat up on the log with him and smoked one as

well. They held each other in their arms.

They didn’t say much but agreed it was nice to get

away for a while.

As time went on the fire started to die down a little

as the logs went brittle and started to crumble into one

another.

DEIMOS

They decided to head back and go.

They threw some sand on the fire and flipped the

logs over.

The burning embers appeared purple and green

when the flames disappeared

They grabbed their bags, smoked a last cigarette

and watched the embers die and then walked back up the

wooden steps. They took one last look at the blue embers

from the cliff side with the oceans roaring in the wind and

walked to the car with deep sighs and drove home.

Chase held the flame real close to the beaker. It

glowed and lit his face up bright in the dark room. He

smiled with a look of expectation over at Xy.

“Check it out man.”

“That shit’s going to pop.”

Xy lay back in the recliner with his hand on his

head. “Dude….”

“Don’t be so interested man, it’s only the one things

that’s going to make tonight worth any while.”

DEIMOS

Xy got out of the chair and walked over to the desk

with the light.

“What is it?” He asked with esteemed curiosity.

“Oh just stuff that is going to get you higher than

the moon.” Chase laughed and smiled.

Xy looked down and shrugged and said “Alright.”

They stood outside in a clearing the trailer parked

off a ways. The light of the stars and moon shone down.

Chase spread his arms and looked up then sipped his

beaker. He wiped his chin and passed it to Xychron who

did the same. They finished it and went back inside.

Chase’s feet felt weightless as the gravel passed

under him. The green and the dull light from the flowers

around him shone in a lack of vibrancy.

His eyes went heavy as they walked back to the

trailer. A smile broke across their faces as the road passed

in a treadmill. The wind flowing through their hair.

The sun’s rays started to pick up in a bright orange

blind as they went into the light.

That morning they started to have a really intense

conversation.

DEIMOS

“She was talking about how she was mother Mary

and we were looking at this painting of Jesus. ‘His eyes

were a beautiful green, just like when I gave birth to him,’

she said. She also said she was Cleopatra in a past life and

talked about Alexander and all that. Very interesting

woman. But very insane at the same time.”

Xy looked at his friend in great interest. He hadn’t

known that his friend had spent time in a mental institution.

“You know that Nietzsche philosophy, the eternal

return, well there is another way of looking at it also. It’s

not that we are necessarily living the same life over and

over again but that each moment contains the possibility to

grasp something new, like every time. Every moment of

pain and happiness over and over. Every moment is

essentially the same moment.”

“Carpe diem.” Chase said as he sipped a beer.

“Cheers.” Xy lifted his glass.

“It’s like that saying live ‘til you die.”

“I think that when I buy hot sauce at the store.”

They both laughed.

DEIMOS

“I made that soup last week, the one we made the

recipe for.”

“Was it good?”

“Yea it was,” Chase seemed satisfied that he had

accomplished something. The cool sun was rising out the

windows of the trailer. “Lentils, potatoes, green beans,

kidney beans, corn, broccoli, carrots, garlic, all that stuff, it

was really good.”

“Sounds good.”

“I like doing good things. It’s like that one time we

left that restaurant and we helped that old couple who were

out of gas. It’s like that man.”

“Yea for sure, there are so many billions of people

around, but if you can just lend a hand to a couple people

you know you have done a good thing, a good job. Socrates

once said the only thing I know is that I know nothing at

all, and then someone went to the oracle a Delphi and asked

who is the wisest man, and she said that no one is wiser

than Socrates, so the wisest man really knows nothing at

all. It’s all about what you do for people.”

Xy sat up a little in his chair.

DEIMOS

“It is like a dream man.”

“It’s like a dream, but it’s like a lucid dream, when

we get to choose what’s next and we know we are

dreaming. And we have to know what the next right thing

to do is.”

“And that can be the hardest thing sometimes.”

Xy sat in the backseat of the station wagon as a

child, his mother was in the driver’s seat. They were

heading north on an ocean side hwy.

“Are we almost there?”

“Almost honey.”

Xy sat back and looked at the red cliffs pass by

through the window. The sky was clear and the sun shone

high.

“Do you see that cliff?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It is called squaw rock, legend has it that a long

time ago when only native people lived here a woman

found her husband had died and jumped off of the rock

down into the river to commit suicide.”

DEIMOS

Young Xychron stared up at the cliff side and down

into the blue water through the glass frowning. They

continued the drive.

Xy had a fairly normal childhood for a boy growing

up in the times. Camping trips, picnics, schools.

He met the woman of his dreams the year he

graduated, Gen. They would go on dates to restaurants and

flirt over tasty food. They would go to the river and float

downstream in a little canoe, see movies, and were

generally happy healthy young people in love.

DEIMOS

Part Two: Project Prometheus

Xy took the transit to the town center at seven am.

People didn’t seem any different, it was quite a normal day.

The world went on hustling and bustling as it always has in

and out of traffic lights, stopping and going. But there was

a heavy weight resting at the bottom of his stomach, he felt

slightly ill. None of it seemed to have any meaning any

more. It all felt so empty. Passed the main avenue he got

off and walked to the café. There was a man sitting on a

laptop. He seemed cool. Xy went in and got a cup of

coffee. He walked up to the guy on the computer.

“Mind if I sit here?”

“No man, feel free.”

“Right.”

He sipped his cup for a while and looked at the guy

typing away with his sunglasses on.

“You read the paper?”

“Nope.”

“Doesn’t surprise me, people lack information in

this age because they are so submerged in it. I highly

recommend you check it out my man.”

DEIMOS

“Okay?” Xy shrugged.

“Not interested in politics?” The man asked.

“Not especially.”

Xy sat at the table on the outdoor patio of the café.

It was a beautiful day. People rode by on bikes and cars

cruised by slowly.

“I am Daniel Aiden.” he sat across from him

smiling and closed the laptop.

“Man, these people really have got it out for the

world.” Daniel spoke with slight offense.

“What do you mean?” Xy asked curious, sitting up

in his chair.

“Well, look at it, they’ve got computers super

crunching peoples’ lives into minute logarithms

determining who is fit to succeed and who is expendable.

They’ve got everyone pinned to a super system of numbers.

Data bases on everybody down to the last purchase you’ve

made. All of your medical records, all your life stuck on a

binary equation. And when it comes down to it, they have

the say on whether or not you live and thrive or if your

numbers aren’t satisfactory, it goes to the next.

DEIMOS

Something had gone wrong with the world. So

much technology finally had dissolved into Project

Prometheus.

People knew it was coming for a long time, back

even to the New Testament and Revelation. People simply

go through the motions like any other citizen. Behind the

cars and jobs they are all blind.

Corporate interested in shared data bases of all your

information collected down to the dot. They take those

numbers and punch them in through the computer based on

a statistical log and determine what is next for you.

Who gets the new organ they need, how much you

pay for the same crap, what job you are eligible for and

how much money you are going to make and essentially

what you are going to spend it on.

Daniel made himself to be a rogue of sorts.

Relentlessly and secretly ever waiting for his in, for the

right moment to pounce.

“I guess I missed that class in high school.” Xy

spoke after the long pause.

DEIMOS

“Well, they’ve got you pinned. You know that little

card you carry everywhere you go. It is no joke. You need

it on the bus, you need it at building entrances, for

purchases, for a kidney, for ice cream.”

Aiden spoke and took off his sunglasses. He face

was white like ivory like he rarely came outside.

Xy considered the possibility that he might be a

systems hacker of some kind, probably nothing to serious

he assumed.

“With globalization and everything this is a serious

problem. A system needs diversity in order to thrive,

Project Prometheus lacks creativity and room for any sort

of catalyst for change and has brought mankind to a

stalemate.” He shook his head.

“You know this war is only for population control

right.”

Daniel stood up, stuffed his laptop into a back pack,

through it on and lit a cigarette.

“Well, nice chatting with you man, but I’ve got to

go.”

And he left.

DEIMOS

Xy sipped his coffee and looked down on the

ground.

Xychron woke up at a quarter to six. He took a hot

shower, smiled while he brushed his teeth and got dressed,

made some coffee and ate breakfast on the couch. He went

outside and grabbed the paper in the rising sun. He read an

article in the paper and quickly set it down and grabbed a

hat and walked out the door.

He caught the seven o clock transit and rode into the

inner metropolis. He slid his card at the gate and it opened

and he walked through the domed edifice. He took the

elevator to floor seventy-six.

He looked at his watch.

There was a strange man in the elevator giving him

odd looks, it made the hairs on the back of his neck warm

and he started to cringe in annoyance.

He walked onto the flat and looked around the

fountain, a few people were setting up shops. He walked in

a straight line with quick dashing movements.

DEIMOS

He arrived at a door in a hall and again put the card

in. He walked through. The war had been going on for

some time… he stared at his watch ticking down. The draft.

Later that evening Xy walked down the lamp lit

streets with the cold air blowing on the ground he stared at

the grime.

Advertisements peeling on the walls of the

downtown sector, he held his hands in his pockets with the

newspaper article crumpled within.

A man dressed in rags with a filthy blanket asked

him for change.

“No, I’m broke.” He lied.

A man in a uniform walked by in the crowd and the

face grew sour staring through him. Walking faster to the

restaurant to meet Gen, this meant him and he knew it.

When he had gone in this morning to her office

where she worked, they all stared at him. He was so upset

and Gen didn’t even know yet. She almost started to cry but

couldn’t because it would appear unprofessional. They’d

made arrangements for dinner.

DEIMOS

Xychron sat on the couch and his face fell into his

hands and tears filled them.

Gen walked into the room.

She looked at him and her face grew soft and she

put her hands together before her and started to open her

mouth but stopped herself and kept it quiet and paced back

and forth behind him, she didn’t know what to say.

Xy sighed deep and wiped his wet hands onto his

pants.

He turned around and saw her standing there.

He stood up and she walked up to him.

She rubbed his tears into hers and they kissed.

“I feel helpless.”

In the old days the world seemed so benign and the

spring times were magical, and carefree. Gen was the new

girl in town and Xy was in love with hopes and ambitions.

When they weren’t in love together they were in

love apart.

Everyone seemed to carry smiles with them.

DEIMOS

The rain would fall on houses at night and lamp

lights in the night and his mother would read by the fire and

his father was still around.

There was a small cozy circle of friends and

everything was free and easy.

So long.

The wind came up and blew all that away with the

tide of war.

Fading memories as he left for the front lines.

The real life only tears held back in his cold eyes.

Xychron stood in line, the general screaming

discipline at their young faces. Telling them of what is to

come. They stood like a row of vineyards for the crop.

They’re faces strong and hard from camp.

The man stopped and slowed his speech and told

them of honor and the glory staring through them all. He

made a signal and they screamed together. Xy stood silent

amongst the ranks. The sound reached its peak and they

marched through the portal into the next level of the dome

and into battle.

DEIMOS

People can’t change the way they feel miles apart.

So hopeless. To drown in this over kill, the pain of being so

far away takes hold, will be bliss.

What’s the use?

Fight and it makes no difference. Crawling. He

knows he is right and the wrongs are so apparent. He sees

his reflection in the cool blood and tears in the dead man’s

eyes.

A ripple of pain across the blue uniform and alone

across time he thinks of her forever. So he asks aloud

“What is love?”

The explosions and screaming continued and he

opened his eyes to the roaring thunder of bullets around

him. He stared with his cold blue eyes at the deep reflection

of night as the man lay there stiff. Napalm behind him he

runs away in his deep blue uniform out through the dome

and into his destiny.

Later lying in the cold. Not wanting to die alone. A

night wind blowing through the cold. A street lamp in the

dome calls to him and there’s dark water in the gutter.

Trees lit on fire in the distance. An old newspaper in the

grass. He thought about it but it was too risky. They could

DEIMOS

still be firing. Suicide whispers its fantasy and of summers

to come. He knew it was a death camp of some sort by

now, war games for numbers, for population control, he

figured no one made it out alive.

Intuition tells him to know better and try to win the

game, and the instinct to survive kicks in. To live on.

Back at home Daniel Aiden was simply going

through the daily motions, nice car, nice job, waiting for

the moment to pounce. Project Prometheus was in full

effect with the draft. There was no saying what was next.

He’s becoming more and more frustrated every day, all he

needed was an in and to find the right person. Sure, a lot of

people were pissed off, but no one with an in.

DEIMOS

Part Three: Nova Deltree

Gaia Summon: In an age of corrupt politics and

chaotic metropolis, the masses march like ants in a

bureaucratic mess blind or indifferent to the sheer

destruction of it all from deforestization to mass

extinctions, climate crises powered by control calendars

enslaving people to perpetuate their own wealth hiding the

truth revealing their lies peeling we must rise up through

the cracks in the concrete and the spirit of terra because she

will live on whether or not we choose to.

Chase stood at the water’s edge staring into the

setting sun. A million blinding pinholes poked through as

he shut his eye lids in frustration. His head pulled back to

the fading light as if by gravity, he couldn’t look away. He

was in a trance and high. Some people were laughing

throwing a disk back and forth behind him. For a moment

he thought he might know them, but no… smiling as the

sun fell to twilight. They were strangers again.

He couldn’t trust anyone. He was avoiding the draft

and would have to turn himself in for insanity before his

number was up. An institution is better he thought. He

turned to look and the people were gone and the sun was on

its way out.

DEIMOS

Chase felt still as he put his hands together on his

bare chest. He walked back to the car and threw on a

hoodie.

Is this it?

He put on some music for the ride home.

As he was driving he got the call. One last fix

before he’d go in.

He picked up the ringing phone.

“Yea?”

“35? Alright I’ll be there in a half hour.”

He sped up the car and went to score.

He tossed and turned in an itchy wretched fix that

night, wondering if they’d have anything for withdraw in

the hospital.

Frost white cold and alone, shooting away the truth.

Painlessly she floated away on a dried red melted wax lily

deeper into an ocean of milky white lies. As night falls the

sun sinks down the horizon and sherbet twilight rays of

dawn reflect on the surface of the vast sea, and then

DEIMOS

darkness consumes us and the constellations break apart

into fragments collapsing on the placid waters.

The stars sink one by one racing toward the bed of

the ocean, where the sands of time are born. Flash back to

an age when things were simpler, sitting in the meadow

under the oak that spring waiting for the summer to spread

its wings, and he knew everything’s going to be okay. Like

a dove flying face forward into the sun. He tossed and

turned in his bed.

“It’s medication time…”

“Medication time…”

The soft soothing noise over the P.A. Chase hopped

out of the bed in his pajamas and walked over to the desk

with the woman behind the window. She passed him a pill

in a cup. He let the pill melt under his tongue then sipped

some water and let it dissolve. He got back into bed.

Xy ducked behind a blown over craft. Bullets flew

by and explosions sounded all around him. He peaked his

head out but smoke filled his eyes. He crouched back

behind the rolled over tank and reloaded his weapon.

Taking a deep breath he poked his head out, all seemed

clear. He ran out and ducked behind a burning building. He

DEIMOS

looked around. Max was waving him on. He met Max in

boot camp and they’d been partners since. Xy caught up to

him.

“Alright Xy, it’s go time, we’re busting into this

spot right here, we’ve got some hiding out shooting at us.

Just be careful and use your head man…you ready?” Max

held his weapon tightly against him, his life line.

Xychron nodded his head.

Max kicked the door in and held his machine gun

tight into the building as they went in.

He waved Xy into another room and went up the

stairs.

Xy poked around the corner and walked down a

hall. A couple doors were at the end. He stepped lightly

across the filthy floor with his weapon in front of his self,

he could hear people whispering in some language in one

of the doors. Gun shots from upstairs, Xy turned his head

and two men came running out of the room at the end of

the hall. He shot them both and watched them die for a

second. That was all it took. His face started to turn.

DEIMOS

“You alright man.” Max yelled coming back down

the stairs.

“Yea… Let’s Go.”

They moved on.

Gen worked as a secretary for one of the top dogs.

She had no opinions about the ethics of her job. Not until

her boyfriend got drafted that is. At first she was just

solemnly depressed. Then she was scared when he left.

After he was gone is when the anger took hold. The

frustration got so bad she decided to do something about it.

After work one day she went to a local café. She

saw a man with a laptop sitting there with sunglasses on.

He seemed of no interest at first so she went in and ordered

a coffee.

As she went to sit down she got a closer look, she

noticed the screen on his laptop. He looked over his

shoulder at her and started to pack his things and go. She

waited for him to leave before getting in her car and

following him.

As he pulled into his gate she took the address

down.

DEIMOS

At home she looked it up.

Daniel Aiden.

A computer programmer.

She nodded her head and smiled a sinister grin.

The logo on the monitor was something she’d seen

before.

It was a symbol for underground revolutionaries.

It looked like a red stamp of a circle with a plus sign

in it.

The astrological symbol for Earth, or Terra, or Gaia.

She first ran into it after Xy left and she found

herself walking around downtown. Near a pawn shop she

bummed some change to a street kid who had the patch on

his backpack. She had asked about it and that is what the

kid had said.

She couldn’t stop thinking about it.

She’d gone into the pawn shop and bought firearm.

A nice and clean chrome magnum. She knew it would

come in handy at some point. She just didn’t know when.

But now she’d found her man, Daniel Aiden.

DEIMOS

Her smile was lit up by the screen.

She searched further for the website of

revolutionaries but couldn’t find anything.

He must have some encryption on it.

She knew this meant they were a team.

She drove back to his address and left a note in his

mail box before the gate.

Daniel was looking out the window at the time.

Who was she? He thought. Hadn’t I seen her earlier,

he wondered.

He knew this was something good, what he’d been

looking for.

He’d have to wait until the next day to check, it was

too suspicious otherwise.

Xychron stared at the puddle forming under him.

Max stood over him for a second yelling something, then

he ran off into the distance. It was a bullet. He could feel it

in his side as he clenched his teeth.

He tried to fight it, but the pain sunk in and he fell

silently into shock. The battle continued around him and he

DEIMOS

could hear to fury of war as he huddled into a ball. He

thought of his mother and then thought of Gen His face fell

peaceful in the blood. A smile left marked cold on his face

as the blood grew deeper and the war began to fade away

all into the deep blue eyes.

Daniel Aiden got up that morning and walked

outside and lit a cigarette, he grabbed his mail as usual. He

put out the cigarette on the porch and walked back inside.

He read the note with great satisfaction. This woman

worked for them, she definitely had access to the Project

Prometheus database. He smiled and tore it up and threw

the note away after memorizing the address and time

written on it.

Max stood alone in a field after the death of his

friend. There in the night the flying crosses strewn across

his life and dreams. We’ll meet again someday. Aero

planes and admiring the beauty of the horses fenced in. The

wild desire and drive behind their eyes, fiercely beautiful.

Such strong grace and God’s elegant patience and guides

that are life. The light within us all is in you too, friend.

Just remember the way we were, when in battle, we were as

one. A team. The unified spirit will burn triumphant and to

your glory. There is this fear in the heart. The fear of not

DEIMOS

making it. Just know that you can watch above, learn to

love that life. You were so young, had only begun. God’s

light was in those eyes, signs are clear, nothing to fear.

Daniel showed up at the lobby just after dark, like

the note said. He went into the bar and waited on a stool

and ordered a drink.

It only took a few minutes for her to walk up, she

tapped him on the shoulder and he waited a second before

getting up to follow.

In the elevator he said “Oh, now what?”

“I can get you into the computer with the access

codes for the central database. But the system is secure so

you’re going to have a hell of a time getting into it, you are

going to need to give it everything you’ve got. I don’t know

how much time you will have, so you’ll have to be quick.”

“No problem, I’ve prepared for this with years of

experience hacking systems. Plus I’ve devised quite the

virus, I know it’s penetrable to even this system.”

“Good, we’ll need it.”

DEIMOS

They walked into the office where Gen has her

desk. She opened the door in the main office where a

leading general held his desk.

A view of the vast night city, Daniel hesitated

checking out the beauty of the scattered city lights out the

huge window.

“Hurry. I’ll stand guard at my desk. The access

code should be written on a note on the desk.”

Daniel shuffled with his jacket where he had the

disk with the hack. He found the note Gen was talking

about and accessed the system. Then he uploaded the virus.

That was it. That simple.

He pulled out the disk and walked back out the

door.

Gen was standing there with the general standing

right before them.

“Call security.” the general spoke seriously and

began to approach Daniel.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Hands up.” Gen held out the magnum aimed

directly toward her boss.

DEIMOS

“Get on the fucking ground.” She yelled and

clenched her jaw and tilted her head in seriousness and kept

the gun toward his head as the general knelt and lay on the

ground.

“Let’s go.”

She put the gun away as they ran out the door and

back into the elevator.

“He’ll call security…” Gen spoke in fear.

“What do we do?”

“Don’t worry.”

“Let’s get off here. The lobby will surely have

security waiting.”

They stopped the elevator on the 5th floor and they

got out.

First thing he did was check the walls.

He ran through the hall and pulled the first fire

alarm.

Best to hide in mass hysteria he figured.

They got out through the crowd of people running

out the building and down the street.

DEIMOS

He waved down a taxi and they got in.

“Motel on 32nd.”

Daniel let out a sigh of great satisfaction.

“Finally.”

That night Gen and Daniel shared life stories. Aiden

realized he had met her boyfriend and Gen was shocked

and demanded to know all about it. She spoke of hope of

seeing him again, little did she know he had already passed.

They were on the run. Fugitives.

Max read the article in the paper, still frustrated at

his partners death, and instantly recognized her name. It

said that they could reboot Project Prometheus, but it could

take up to three weeks.

Just enough time, he thought.

He’d risen in rank.

He now had a pilot’s license.

He gathered up a group of disgruntled soldiers.

It would be mutiny, but with the collapse of Project

Prometheus. A revolution might just work.

DEIMOS

They hijacked over two dozen aircraft.

When word got out other pilots started joining in.

They flew directly toward the all the major cities

with all the major Project’s databases.

There wasn’t much the government could do with

the system hacked, especially with morale so low. They

were their own enemies. The war was a global effort at war

games, killing for the sake of killing, people knew and were

sick of it.

They attacked in full force and watched them burn

before the system could be restarted.

They had succeeded in destroying Project

Prometheus.

Max stood gazing out over the city that lay in

destruction of war in deep thought. His eyes were cast deep

into the burning horizon. The sun born high in the sky, the

heat glistening on his skin. His uniform was heavy and he

wore a disgusted look as he scanned the wreckage. He

thought of the sun set to come and figured he’d wait on the

hill. He pulled out some rations and started to eat. He’d felt

like an older brother to Xy, he had made him proud today.

DEIMOS

His girlfriend would be fine, he thought. He had been a true

friend through this pointless war. They’d both been drafted

and both had the same attitude about it. Most the men were

like them at this point. Death and futility, yet men still

marched in duty.

It was finally coming to an end.

The revolution had happened.

Now it was just a matter of rebuilding.

People had learned.

Society would know better, he thought.

At sunset, Max walked down the hill towards the

burning city.

He thought it beautiful, all of the world’s numbers

burning up into flames.

The towers

Heat and ember

Settling rubble

A cold wind blows

The flag left hanging from poles

DEIMOS

Stood for something else today

Babylon burning

Confusion self evident

The unexpected crash, sedition

To birth a new world

A rebel soldier watching the blaze put out his

cigarette into the dirt and watched the smoldering ash take

form.

DEIMOS

The Mousetrap

On the summit of a grassy mount surrounded by

vast woodlands the erupting spires and primeval

architecture of the castle lay hidden by the trees.

Great and horrid gargoyles mount the turrets, rain

dripping down their demon faces swelling in the dark.

Inside of a dimly lit study.

I am an apothecary, just a young denizen yet of

powerful family, mixing a potion of an opium tincture and

sitting by an open fire in a grand arm chair.

I take a sip.

I set my drink on the side table picking up a book as

the light of the fire flickers shadows on the wall.

Looking out the window at a flash of lighting,

thunder strikes and I put my head in my hand, distressed.

I got the idea to poison my uncle while reading

Hamlet by the fire light in the study.

The part with the play within the play where the

player king is poisoned by his nephew.

It’s called the Mousetrap.

DEIMOS

My father was assassinated nearly a year ago during

a speech he gave on the reshaping of the worlds order and

social construct, which many found to be too socialist and

extremely radical.

I am sure it was a set up.

I watched on television as a bullet flashed through

the skull, he fell from the podium like a limp fish.

My first thought was a flash back to the discussion

we’d had over policy only a week prior.

My uncle, the new monarch, has views in direct

opposition to his father’s, his brother’s, as well as my own.

In his year as sole monarch he has managed to

reverse all of the work and progress made for the people of

the world by my father.

In the late Age of Aquarius, our family rose to

absolute power over earth and the planet became under the

rule of a single monarch.

Centuries of war had come to an end.

Countries had already been replaced by greater

unions after the globalization of the twenty second century.

DEIMOS

But still for so long wars were waged and poverty

and hunger remained unsolved in many places.

My father worked on reversing these social

problems and creating a freer world.

The family has essentially solely dictated the

world’s policy for over two centuries.

We are literally untouchable by anyone else who

may be seeking real power.

It has just simply systematically been made

impossible.

But like a black hole or a nasty computer virus or

rotting fruit from the tree every once in a while something

or someone is introduced into a system in attempt to

sabotage and in turn devour all the functions and facets that

make it work.

The new monarch, the eldest great grandson of the

great patriarch that first took charge was expected to take

the throne upon the former monarch’s death.

But then it was left to his youngest more liberal son

to reign in hopes for greater change in the world’s

assembly.

DEIMOS

It was unexpected and went against historical

traditions, but this was a new world.

The eldest brother, my uncle, was left devastated in

disbelief with a sworn secret grudge, I know it.

And that is why it must be him who’d planned my

father’s assassination.

It is the only logical conclusion I could come up

with.

Sure others had motives but they lack the initiative

and power and more importantly anything substantial to

gain.

As monarch he has increased imprisonment

worldwide, making money off of what is practically slavery

and reverted to an almost KGB like police state in this

postmodern world.

More money is going into researching new

techniques on brainwashing than solving poverty and

hunger.

Civil war is inevitable.

DEIMOS

The family has worked very hard to make this an

unlikely future for man, but here is one man from within

making it happen.

He has to be taken down.

I sip my opium tincture contemplating the

mousetrap, poisoning my uncle in the study.

Revenge tickles the hairs on my neck as I close my

eyes in pleasure.

I will poison him…at which point I will claim the

throne.

DEIMOS

9/11

And at this point years down the line, there are

actually a hell of a lot of people that agree with that

statement he made as a sixteen year old kid. But not

necessarily a conspiracy, more of a collusion of powers to

fuck us all, many are offended by the question, but aren’t

there no stupid questions? If one were to look at human

history and its tendency to repeat itself it only makes

perfect sense.

The web-site, inspired by a random occurrence at a

shindig, was the Mecca of their youth. After school and

weekends they all spent submitting writing and artwork to

their little click. Narcissism and mellow drama, insanity

and freedom of expression.

Looking back youth fades away sweeter and

sweeter with age. Do the shores of death beseech… shall

this light shine on through the ages in creative influence

and love, will they satisfy ever the longing for immortality?

Is this journey too towering, is fate peeling by the hour, this

ticking grandfather clock of mortal entropy from birth and

downward? Is it fate that intimidates by the hour or is just

the releasing of the past as pure illusion that is sending us

down this serpentine? Is the eternal return to be ephemeral

DEIMOS

ignorance on the part of one’s own neglect or should people

just embrace gratitude and go buy the books?

It was another weekend in town. They were kicking

it at a shindig at Peter’s, his folks had left town. It was

probably about 10 or 12 students. They all had the peculiar

habit of smoking copious amounts of marijuana on a daily

basis, and this night was no exception, along with musical

instruments and a four track recorder.

Peter was in the bedroom shooting an “Air

Bazooka” at everyone, in survival mode, “Don’t ask, don’t

tell…”

A couple sat flirting in the den, and there was a jam

session. A few stragglers had the Attack of the Munchies.

The sound of low crunchy guitars and grunge post rock

from the stereo throughout the kitchen. A tray of marijuana

cookies lay on the counter top, later to be eaten by the dogs

and home boy Peter’s mom upon return the next day. Some

horror sci-fi film was on the TV; Saul was passed out at the

kitchen table having a nightmare.

Saul can’t seem to finish school as he selfishly

educates his self through his own inexperience and

insanity. His own narcissism and self-absorption is

DEIMOS

spreading its behavior to those around him and it is

somewhat alluding and effecting him. He can’t tell if it’s

just his over active sublime imagination or reality.

Idols twilight into the reality of stranger’s

daydreams walking by on the concrete. He wants them to

see, it isn’t fair if they don’t… right? To know it is all

going wrong, though he holds no moral dilemma with it, he

truly finds it funny.

This self chosen plague he has released. He doesn’t

know how he’s done it, or if it is truly his own making at

all…perhaps it is simply a 3rd party working through him.

Wouldn’t say it is fair to rule out either possibility.

How do you exorcise an atheist: “Ummmm, here

your evil possessions, which will be $9.99….? Not Christ,

and not necessarily the anti-Christ, rather trying to explain

that one shouldn’t have to die to see truth with it all so

apparent. Material death is over rated, who says one can’t

die when you are “technically” alive. Realizing the “return

of Saturn” to the birth stage is at 28.6 years Earth time, the

orbit of Saturn around the sun, falls almost exactly on this

date 12/21/2012. Laughing at the twenty twelve paranoids

is a regular leisure activity of their circle of friends. They

attempt mystery sci-fi theatre 3000, making jokes, to the

DEIMOS

scariest movie ever, The Exorcist, Saul gets sick to his

stomach and nearly vomits.

He gets pulled over and the cop arrests him, calls

him an “idiot” right?

In court the cop says “I pulled him over at

approximately 2:04 a.m.”

Then Saul asks “Did you call me an idiot when you

pulled me over?”

Under oath.

“Did you call me an idiot?”

“I don’t recall,” with his beady little eyes and

skinned head.

Judge rules in Saul’s favor.

Damn right.

That cop was a punk, a real prick, and his buddy

that pulled up after him was a creep. Short blonde gelled

hair and glasses, with a white arm band on his wrist, looked

like he was a little too into world of war craft on his time

off or like he thought he was a real void mage. Could see it

DEIMOS

in his face, they were both pretty young cops, power

hungry pricks, that’s all.

They tortured him in booking with an electrocuting

magnetic conditioning rod.

But the cop sitting at the desk at the lower level of

the station downtown where they do booking was freaky.

Saul stared at him as he just sits there just staring aimless

into void stroking his fat mustache and twitching his face.

Looked like Nietzsche on a really bad day.

Once working security a homeless buddy under a

bridge was being gripped by a skin headed piggy and Saul

was pissed because there wasn’t anything he could do, so

he just went up to him and told him that this was his

security site and asked him if he should put this in the

report, subtly hinting at the abuse of the homeless friend in

his fists.

All he said was “No I have it taken care of,” but he

looked shocked that he’d even ask and he settled a little on

the dude.

“Fucking cops.”

DEIMOS

Not to say that they are all bad. But the bad ones

tend to be really bad.

Like this one dude literally must have thought he

was one of those robot cops from the movies, wants to

enforce the third degree for driving home late after a long

day and dealing with a flat tire. Insisting on questions of

alleged lack of sobriety, complete bullshit, he just needed

some sleep at the house two blocks away.

Muttering under his breath “Fucking cops,” as he

insisted he follow his prick finger with his eyes. “Do you

have a problem with me ensuring your safety?”

Twenty plus city cops drive down Main Street on a

Thursday night in about five minutes, there was about five

or six vehicles that weren’t police. Enough is enough, he

thinks, can’t use a cell phone without a headset without

going to jail but cops can have a shot gun and be focused

on their laptop while driving trying to fuck people because

they went to the police academy for a few months?

DEIMOS

Exorcism of an Atheist

“Have you taken your anti-hyperdiskinetics today?”

They were in one of the offices in the hospital.

Peter looked at the Dr. through wide bewildered

eyes.

What the fuck did he just say?

In Movias eyes the Cyclopean visions began to

form in his dilated vision, the deep abyss, an isle of nothing

in an ocean of empty space ebony blue and green. The Dr.

stood with his arms cross in stilted and desperate

expectation.

“Saul!”

Saul was lost in the thought again, people’s urgency

with time, and the atomic uniformification of time. It was

day light savings last week, and all this unnatural

metamorphoses of people lives, based on some theory.

Science knows better, look at the basics of quantum; to

observe is to alter.

His voice spired to an echo in Saul’s ear drums.

The Cyclops’ eye spoke to Ulysses, high and

mighty on his ivy throne of stained marble. Icy cold blues

and reds, like frozen lakes. Ulysses thought that he might

get away without so much as this, but yet again, his fate got

DEIMOS

the better of him.

“Who are you?”

“Saul…”

Later in the cafeteria of the sanitarium.

“People used to worship electricity, you know.”

He poured his bowl of lime Jell-O down his throat.

“You know, at least we get Jell-O.”

“I don’t get your point, bro who cares about the

Jell-O?”

“Then I can have yours right?”

“C’mon, play one game of cards with me.”

Saul ate the second bowl of Jell-O, watermelon,

bomb.

The Doctor jotted a few notes onto his clipboard

with his gold pen. He always kept it in his white coat

pocket. He carried it like an award or trophy.

“Well, Saul… if this is how you are going to

behave, we will just have to see to it that you lose your

reading privileges.”

“I don’t read.” The patient replied.

“Look, you’ve been here three weeks now and

you’ve barely said a word, now have you or haven’t you

been taking your meds? And we have to monitor you here,

and no, yes, in fact you do read… quite a bit…” the doctor

DEIMOS

looked down at the patient in condescending pleasure in a

matter of fact tone said “to the contrary besides the time

spend sleeping you continually have a book on your person.

And in those blue pajamas, it is very apparent. See, you

have a book on you now, it is just closed at your side.”

Dr. Movias leaned in a little, Saul tucked away.

Movias eyes stared deep into the glasses or the

bearded bipedal hominid before him, and smiled.

“Of course not.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Who wants to know, Movias? I’ll be real with you,

this is not really where I belong, all those heavy tranq meds

make people crazy, not the other way around, and you have

to understand that, okay. You can’t go around forcing

people to take things they don’t want or need to take. In my

opinion your degree to do that means nothing to me. I

choose not to take them.” He shrugged.

“Ha. Well, Umm, that’s the thing, here, where you

are you, well…you don’t have that choice. The fact is you

we’re brought here.”

“Fuck you man!”

Saul stood up and slugged the Dr. in his crooked

face two times.

DEIMOS

Movias recovered quite quickly, as if this had

happened before or he’d seen it coming, almost instantly he

pulled a transmitter from his coat and called:

“Security.”

Sometime down the line, Movias is in his superior’s

office reviewing Saul’s report subject for review for

moving onto phase two of his treatment, reintegration into

society.

“Besides his stubborn attitude about cooperating

with our requirements about the medications, he has

actually been very polite and civil. I personally am not even

sure he’s actually crazy.” Frank Bellingham spoke with a

calm collectedness and had an aura of peace in this sanctity

of his office.

“With all due respect Frank, he punched me in the

face.” Movias held his bruised mug with his left hand as if

adjusting it into place.

“Well, that’s true, and I have taken that into

consideration.”

“Crazy is a broad term Frank.”

Frank, the head of the department stroked his chin,

Dr. Movias, stiff in the wooden chair sat before the desk.

His face twitched a little as he watched Frank considering

Saul, the fucking prick punk kid who’d punched him in the

DEIMOS

face, and his possible early release. His lip rose a little in

cynicism and spite.

…

Months later, reintegrated into the world Saul is

with a buddy, Peter, who also did some time in the

sanitarium:

“Movias is the crazy one, I know there’s something

wrong with this dude, you could see it in his face, and he’d

do this thing with his eye like he was tweaking out.”

“Hahaha oh yeah, I remember that shit, it’d be all

moving around on its own when he’d be asking all those

absurd questions and junk. I bet he was all jacked on Meds

he prescribed himself or something, he was too creepy and

weird not to be all fucked up on something. Dude, the only

good thing about that place was they had Jell-O and you

could play cards.”

“Hahaha, the Jell-O.”

They walked on for a minute in silence.

Peter hit the joint and exhaled the smoke into the

dawn air, walking down the rails of the track while the first

meager rays of the morning sun peaked through the ebbing

overcast, the metal of the train tracks with puddles of dew

on the rust from the winter cold overnight.

They’d been spending time together again.

DEIMOS

“Good, I thought I was the only one who noticed

that. Pass that yonder.”

They reached out their hands as they walked and

Saul hit the herb, a look of hope in his eyes as the sun

reflected off their hooded sweatshirts yawning in the

dissolving winter’s twilight.

DEIMOS

The Mark of Cain

The smell of the fall harvest blew through the

Indian summer air. The sun, orange and fiery red stood

high in the sky, burning and churning heat down to the dry

fields below that stretched for miles, rows of crop to be

stored for winter. The lines of wheat, vegetables and vines

were drawn from the ground before the house of Cain.

The wood dark and aged, stood high over the earth.

A dry breeze was picking up and Cain was out back

sharpening his scythe on a stone wheel he spun with his

foot. Sparks of yellow and red shot from the metal as the

sweat dripped down his back, he wiped his brow and pulled

the scythe from the stone running his finger along the curve

of the blade; he sucked the blood with his tongue.

Abel, across the fields, lived in a grove with his

sheep; he herded them toward Cain’s house. He wished to

speak to him; thinking they might have some words to

exchange after God’s judgment of their sacrifices.

“Hello brother, how are we doing today?” Abel

smiled to his brother as he approached him with his flock.

“I’m fine.” Cain bit into an apple from one of his

trees and looked coldly into his brothers eyes.

DEIMOS

“Did you have something you wanted to speak with

me about?” Abel ran his fingers through his hair, his sheep

huddling around him.

A dead leaf fell to the ground from the tree beside

them, as the wind grew stagnant. Cain lifted his eyes to his

brother

“Yeah, why do you think God favors you over me?

Honestly, you’d just let the world go to waste, wouldn’t

you prefer to wield its resource and store for winter to gain

more power to create a better life for the future?”

Cain stood tall, holding the fruit in his fist toward

his brother staring into his eyes, his eyebrows lifted.

“Well, in my opinion, I feel we can just live in

peace. We don’t need to work fields, toiling day in day out

for nothing. All we need we have, and as far as the future

goes, have you not all you need here now?”

The breeze blew and Abel stood smiling

complacent with his flock huddled with him.

The wind started to pick up again as Cain walked to

and fro in the field before his brother, considering a counter

to his brother’s response.

DEIMOS

“Well, to be real, today is just fine, but to work the

land is something I prefer, to work a hard day’s labor is a

good thing. And for God to prefer your offering of living

with and like animals is pathetic to me. You sacrificed

nothing, I feel like all the hard work I’ve done in my fields

will reap the greater reward. And that is why I am going to

kill you, for the greater good of Man.”

He pulled out his scythe and held it before him, the

sun shining on the blade as the light hit from the orange

horizon in the distance.

“So, you plan to kill me then?”

Abel stood indifferent,

“Well, I am at peace with my life, Cain. But first let

me tell you, my people will fall away by your hands; man

will no longer live with and for the earth, but for

themselves. And the planet and God’s world will mean

nothing. Your opinion of right and wrong is insufferable in

your eyes, you insist on being right, and with the world in

your hand people will remain at constant war with one

another, and those who live this way will die this way. God

will mark you, and your people will inherit the earth with

this mark. The mark of Cain. ”

DEIMOS

Abel held his shepherds rod, his white robe flowing

in the dying breeze, his admonishing gaze sullen to the eyes

of his brother.

Cain froze a moment considering the words Abel

had just spoke, he tossed the apple core to the ground and

said:

“So be it, but recognize God favors me if I kill you,

and thereby I will change the definition of God, because

you will be dead and God will, with his gracious hand,

mark my posterity to work the Earth. And my vision for

agriculture and the future of the world will come to fruition

by the hand of man, not by the hand of God. Abel, you will

die, and your ideas will perish, because my people will

exterminate your following. It is the way it is, I am going to

shed your blood on these fields and man will reap what is

sown. Father, Mother, Adam and Eve, from the Garden of

Eden lived in your manner, in peace under the hand of God,

and what came of it? God expelled them in the end for

eating the serpent’s truth, and you who choose to please

God, will die, will be murdered and I, Cain shall rise up

and those who descend from me will carry the power of the

knowledge of Good and Evil to work for humanity as God.

The mark of Cain.”

DEIMOS

Cain’s black hooded robe stood still in the twilight

of the setting sun as their argument reached its peak, the

stars beginning to appear in the heavens, his face cold and

dark, the scythe at his side, yielding for the right moment

for bloodshed.

“And why is that? Because you believe you know

right from wrong?” Abel asked him.

“That is absolutely right.” The sun sank to darkness,

the clear night sky towered above them.

“And what will happen in the end? Will you not kill

yourself too with this mentality of everything is for me to

wield and control?” Abel questioned. “What of the Earth

itself, will you not work it to death until humanity itself is

forced to nothing? Do you suppose God will tolerate your

revolution to its final course? If you kill my people’s ideas

of living with and for God, won’t your people with this

conquering mentality of consuming the earth, in the end kill

themselves off in recourse to killing the earth?”

“You use words as if they meant something, they

mean nothing. The only meaning is in action, you are

through.”

DEIMOS

Cain lifted the scythe, cutting his brothers head off

leaving it dead in the fields. His body fell to the fields

flowing warm blood into the cold ground.

Cain stood wearing his dark hooded robe, scythe in

hand. The harvest moon in the night sky laid rest over the

fields, death bowed its head and walked away, the body

deteriorated, first the flesh, then the bone, until nothing was

left but dirt. The mark of Cain.

DEIMOS

Xtullu Deathtrap

The lullaby arose with the tentacle monster from the

sea. Aeon dreaming to the prayers of his enslaved

followers. Bodies rotting in catacombs in vast underwater

cities arrayed in labyrinths of human coral, the lost sunken

continent of Lumeria.

People had a gut feeling long before it actually

happened, no one talked about it but we all kind of knew.

The army of beings from the sky came later, like a swarm

of armed locust. Those not enslaved were left scattered and

slaughtered.

Me, and my crew of men are some of the only

survivors with an ounce of humanity left in us. We are a

team of scientists, survivalists and the wealthy. What I have

seen is our numbers fall and those like us follow the same

pattern. I am being sent on the sole mission of finding

Ktullu for possible destruction and if not to bring back my

findings.

Humanities will soon be a faded memory on the

scar of our history that too shall disappear into

insignificance that is space times’ infinitely threading

reality. The Death Drones were the machines created by tax

DEIMOS

dollars in military arms research. A sound structure and

tonal logistics created for mind control and thus absolute

power. A sound theory by MX. KABEL proved that if a

distinct sound chart construed (a440) and image color table

to use these tables crossed with brainwashing techniques

recognized in the past, such as Orwellian newspeak (black-

white).

One could theoretically with mass media

technologies such as television and computer control the

masses like Pavlovian dogs drooling for whatever effect

desired. Death drones came when the science was mastered

emitting constant control frequencies in barely audible

tones, some terribly low and others awkwardly high and off

pitch, almost visible too. People saw colors differently, and

time began to spin faster and faster as it moved forward

infinitely linear in the end as the seasons grew closer

together due to the carbon emissions of… well, us. The

colors of the heavens changing is what is actually said to be

possible to awake the beast.

Ktullu is said to lay dreaming at the depths of the

pacific. He is said to be like a giant octopus but made not

having standard squid like qualities. Rather being made of a

substance similar to bone marrow. We figured if anything a

DEIMOS

form of cancer might be able to kill the thing before he

arises and destroys us all.

We stare outside our lab up at the desolate heavens

as the constellations stand bright in my eyes the greater

bear and as satellites blink slowly. The heavenly bodies

spinning in the shadows of darkness which is the empty

space.

People get older and ages pass, civilizations evolve

and empires fall, but how did we stray so far as for this, the

summoning of an evil greater than ourselves to enslave us

and destroy us. People worked for centuries all day every

day for peanuts to perpetuate the wealth of miniscule

percentage of humanity. For too long and their greed finally

caught up with them. But they had to try to ruin it for

everybody, and all of posterity. “The End” they ranted in

churched and states “The end” in groups and all alone in

rooms or cells or down the street, laughing out of fear,

existential regret and that all it adds up to is entropy. And

devolution.

The death drones sped up the process of the

summoning of the ancient ones, Ktullu’s Minions. The

slumber once rocked became violent until one day it finally

woke. Rising to the surface monstrous and seeking

DEIMOS

vengeance.

A machine for decay slowly digesting pain. On the

other side I see my scars still burn the same the light at the

end of the tunnel has me caught like a deer in headlights

behind to flee the machines of GOD to decapitate with

platinum swords onto the next with my head in the flames.

I joined my body and fell into the dream.

So many nights I fell asleep cursing so many nights

I woke up screaming so many mornings I crawled helpless

and hopeless out of bed only to spend my days pacing in

scheming circles to find my oblivion and do it again. How

long did I circle the drain? Did I finally get sucked through

or is this all a dream? Searching for meaning and afraid

what I’d find ether way.

I walk into this cold desert necropolis with my hood

on, haven’t eaten for weeks. The King of Ghosts waiting

through the portal at the bottom of the unocean. All these

shadows of despair flicker on the coven walls as I pass

through the gates. A wasteland of desolate spires and sand.

I reach the final lair where the picture lies to stare into it

and reach the other side. I hear the sound of the death drone

running from outside the cave. I am pulled through the

portal.

DEIMOS

I am in a vast coral city in full gear.

I know where to swim.

Colors flash to black and white and I reach the gore

of the beast at the bottom of the sea, before it was only his

spawn I’d seen, but now here is the giant monster we’d

been waiting for.

I wade toward it in the blood-ink filled waters.

An eye opens and I recognize the beauty.

He pulls me into the dream and I am gone forever.

Enslaved.

DEIMOS

The Serpentine Machine

“A machine for decay slowly digesting pain. On the other

side I see my scars still burn the same. The light at the end

of the tunnel.”

The two young men sat on the couch in their two

bedroom rental. Mixing magic and machinery is not

recommended to anyone, but the two naïve amateurs knew

no better.

It started with small things, black outs and

flickering electricity and bad television signals, it would

change to channels automatically and with a seeming

reason and intelligence as they smoked their concoctions of

various drugs. Street drugs, herbs from the herb store,

medical marijuana, etc.

And then there was the goo in the fridge which for

some reason attracted an array of various almost exotic

tones.

Melted candles gave off a little heat in the dim light

of the apartment.

Titus spoke quietly and in scattered religious terms

as he hardwired the computer.

DEIMOS

He spoke of Lord Adonai and Tetragrammaton as if

they were a part of everyday laymen vocabulary.

He spoke of an angel with bloody scabbed wings

like that of a dying insect.

Simon Pulled out a gas mask from a cardboard box

and put it on and wore it for a while. He spoke in response

but Titus had a hard time hearing him at points and would

just give him cold stares for minutes at a time.

He took off the mask and went outside for a smoke.

“Hey this compost heap has got to go buddy it‘s

stinking up the place.” Simon tossed a cigarette into the

fruit peels and soil and walked back inside.

It pissed Titus off.

Cigarette butts would ruin the compost.

They’d been getting into strange things as of late.

Besides the drugs, black magic rituals and other odd

behaviors.

Definitely strange things, satanic kabala symbols

strewn in red across the walls smeared in blood and

condiments.

DEIMOS

The constant mixed smell of the drugs with the

smell of Titus cooking raw beans and incense burning out

from a skull on the table filled the whole apartment.

They both wore all black and their faces were pale

beside the black goatees.

Titus wore make up thick and ugly.

Simon had his wrists slit silly with dried blood from

no effort to clean afterward, sloppy mother fucker.

They lit the charcoal for the hookah and smoked

some shish.

The magic began brainwashing the populations of

people around them, at least they were sure it was so. It is

never recommended to use magic against your neighbors,

though they didn’t care much for love thy neighbor. They’d

scream at the top of their lung in heated arguments on

Nietzsche’s Anti-Christ or Greek myth in the middle of the

night. Often neighbors would have to knock and ask them

to be quiet. They didn’t care. They hosted strangers often

who would stay briefly then get freaked out and leave.

They honed in to one frequency without diversity or

discernment oblivious to the world around them.

DEIMOS

Neighbors would stare at the apartment in a trance.

And when they stepped outside everything always stood

still in frozen and awkward silence, people stared as they

walked by in cold moments of contempt.

Senselessness and crimes occurring of

unimaginable horror from their online following.

Cults popping up as mindless sheep.

New age religious extremists had a desire to escape

the nihilism and revise the meaning of life to anyone.

Some of the spells uploaded brought things out of

control. Titus got into hacking. New viruses that could

destroy your hard drive and put up permanent images on

your monitor every time you start up that would bother and

be disturbing to anyone.

Portals of consciousness were being opened with no

way of being closed, spirits primarily benign or malicious

could come through and go and invade anyone’s

consciousness for dreams fading for miles. Drones of

frequencies transmitted for canny levels brainwashing of

any ones making. The spells were working, automated from

the machine itself.

DEIMOS

It only really required a couple of computer

programs and a few supplies you could pick up from a tech

store and a little handy knowledge and the ability to follow

simple directions.

The machine was flickering and wires began

popping black and white electricity against the noise of the

boiling water.

Titus, sick of it all, grabbed the boiling water from

the beans and poured it directly onto the machine.

It sparked and started an electrical fire.

The flames started small and Titus just watched, he

didn’t care much to put it out. He wanted the machine dead.

Simon was sleeping off a hangover in the next

room.

When the smoke became unbearable Titus ran out

the door, he made an indifferent mumble that the house was

on fire that Simon could not hear at all.

Simon awoke in a dark cloud of smoke about ten

minutes later. Where is that fucking gas mask when you

need it?

DEIMOS

He fumbled around for a minute grabbed his snake

from its cage and ran through the smokey hall like a tunnel,

the light of the fire burning at the end.

The door appeared as a bright red square at the end

of the hall.

A light at the end of a dark serpentine.

He coughed his way through and burnt his hand on

the door handle.

The machine was dead.

He got outside and Titus was downstairs just

watching the smoke pummel from the door and windows.

The fire visible in the window.

Simon walked down the grimy concrete steps and

joined him for a smoke.

He kissed his snake and set it free knowing he’d

never be able to take care of it now.

They watched as months of futility went up into

flames and smoked their cigarettes.

“Man, what a great waste of time this place has

been.”

DEIMOS

“I know, right.”

“Well…” Simon faded off into silence then thought

of something.

“We better get the fuck out of here before the cops

show up.” He said.

They walked away slowly looking over their

shoulders, disconcerned as the fire spread to the neighbors’

apartments.

DEIMOS

Aqualung

He drinks every day.

A 40oz and a pint on workdays and the bars on the

weekend.

He smokes a pack a day.

Hacks up a lung every morning.

He works as a sales rep. during the week. Behind the shirt,

smile and nametag is a cold hatred for his job.

“Hello, welcome to _______, how are you today?” Fuck

you.

“You go on too many smoke breaks.” His coworker

comments.

“Yeah, I’m trying to quit.” Die fucker and go to hell.

His girlfriend broke up with him because he drinks too

much

“You drink like a fish.”

“You’re a fish.”

He gets back from his smoke break and the same coworker

motions to him that he reeks of smoke.

DEIMOS

He shrugs and thinks of possibly buying a fifth instead of a

pint tonight.

The rest of the work day drags on slowly.

No more smoke breaks, has to prove he can do it, plus it

will shut the little fucker up.

He stocks some shelves with items and smiles as people

walk by.

“Fuck you, have a nice day.” He stops and wonders if he’d

said that aloud. He’s not sure, he shrugs and keeps stocking

the shelf.

He clocks out and goes to his car and drives to the liquor

store on his way home.

Two tall cans on sale and a pint of cheap whiskey.

He opens and chugs one of the tall cans in his car on the

drive home.

He gets there and brings up the booze.

He proceeds to drink himself numb as he watches the bad

news on TV.

He lights a cigar while doing so and considers that things

could be worse.

DEIMOS

“I don’t have a trillion dollars in debt.”

“One thousand of my closest relatives and friends didn’t

die at war this month.”

“I’m not addicted to crack going on an intervention over

public broadcasting.”

The suns gone now and the dim light in the apartment is

stagnant and it’s cold.

He staggers out of his seat and turns on the heater.

He walks to the bathroom and turns on the radio and

undresses.

Some pop song about love and sex is playing mixed with

static from the signal.

He turns on the bathwater and looks at himself in the

mirror.

“You suck.” He says to himself and smiles then brushes his

teeth with too much paste.

Too much foam.

He hops in the bath and mindlessly yet intentionally knocks

the radio into the bathwater with him.

Aqualung.

DEIMOS

The Mansion and the Architect

They first toured the house in late autumn, a woman

of middle age gave the tour. She dressed elegantly and had

a powerful demeanor.

“This is the main hall. Notice the cascading stairs

and balcony of the second floor.” She held her hands

against the thick violet curtains hanging from the second

floor.

“The mansion itself was designed by the brilliant

architect named Drakel, a native to the Holy Roman

Empire. As you can very well tell he put much time and

energy into it.”

She said looking up at the painted dome ceiling as

they walked up the main staircase.

They started down the hall, the couple smiled.

“The art work, all chosen by the architect himself

tells a lot about the man, most of it is very dark." The man

put his hand down on an ebony sphere on the upstairs

column as they reached the top of the stairs.

“This one is my favorite” She spoke quietly and

reserved.

DEIMOS

They looked at it together with a blank expression

not knowing what to think or believe, an oil painting of a

muddy brown canyon with contrasting gold and blue

flames burning heat, a gruesome beast with tentacles,

reptilian scales and insect wings stared directly into them

with a finger pointing directly into flames.

The man faked an awkward smile to the realtor as

the wife passed indifferently.

He gazed down the balcony as the chandelier

flickered. He was taken aback by a statue of a knight in the

fashion of Arthurian legend standing on the first floor he

hadn’t noticed as they came through.

He shook his head in disbelief, quite shocking. He

started to think of his father passing, a great man.

The realtor passed placing a hand on the man's

shoulder.

“Let’s move on.”

The realtor walked them out. They stood under a

waning twilight in the autumn breeze.

DEIMOS

“It is really quite an offer, fortunately for you the

interests are down and this is truly the best time to buy.”

She held out her hand and they left.

It was a cold windy afternoon not two weeks later

when they pulled up with their things.

The gable peaked high, towering over the huge

double doors, they stood on the lawn scattered with

untended gardens and fallen leaves.

The mansion, with its stone façade loomed down at

the earth, the windows staring, lined with hanging plants

and ivy.

“Well, we are here.” he said.

The wife looked around at some sculptures and a

fountain.

Her gaze fell beyond the property at a high elm tree

in the distance poking branches over jagged rolling

mountain tops in the distance past the hills.

The first few weeks they spent getting settled in and

becoming familiar with the house.

DEIMOS

They discovered a garden bower out back, where on

the days when the sun came out, they enjoyed spending

their days. It started to feel like home.

They kissed arms around each other under the

hanging ivy and wildflowers.

“I feel so at peace, we have entered a new world.”

They laughed.

“Gabriel.”

One day before the winter solstice the man was

walking through the wrapping halls on the second floor for

no particular reason and he noticed a door, it was locked.

He went for the handle and tried again. Not given the key

he grew somewhat frustrated.

He called the realtor later that day. She assured him

she had no idea.

Three mornings later a package laid rest on the front

doorstep. It had no postage, just a small brown box with a

ribbon tied around.

He opened it on the stairs, a skeleton key wrapped

in cotton and silk with a note and in calligraphy saying only

two words: "Thank you.”

DEIMOS

He put it with the other keys in his pocket and threw

out the box.

He walked up the hall and reached for the key and

grabbed the handle, it slid open unexpectedly and he stood

still looking around in silence, the door was somehow

already unlocked.

He crept into the pitch black.

He reached for a light, wondering- what is this

room?

A library with a great wide window staring out

distant at the mountains, he walked passed the piano

touching the keys, he browsed the shelves various titles

then sat at the desk.

He looked in the drawers, the top had a few pencils

and pens and a notebook. He sat at the desk and read a

while, it turned out to be journals of the architect, Drakel.

Not thinking much of it he put them away and

turned out the light, and started to feel groggy as he walked

back down the hall toward his bed.

They laid awake a while, talking about nothing.

DEIMOS

When the rain started to pick up and a storm began

hitting the roof like galloping horses.

The lights blacked out and a quick chill ran up their

spines.

“What was that?”

“It sounded like footsteps…”

He went to check out the sound telling her to hold

tight, he walked out the hall and the darkness swelled in

silence and despair. Creaking noises on the wood from the

mansion a melody began to flow to his ears. As he passed,

shine of the moon outdoors landed on the knight and the

painting lit up, it was all he could see for a frozen moment

in time.

A soft elegant Aeonian mode, flowing from the

library, and he knew it.

He stared at the ebony sphere on the column.

In the dark in the dungeon, he awoke, the

background of the flames lit wildly.

He knew.

DEIMOS

His arms and feet in chains in the form on an X his

body felt weak.

Insane sounds of insect wings and flashing

movements of shadow flickered on the stone wall.

“Adramelech has fed.”

DEIMOS

Unholy Grail

“Let’s play a card game.” Simon Suggested

“Sounds good.” Titus agreed.

I was hesitant.

“What game are we going to play?” I asked.

“We’re going to play Egyptian rat screw.” Simon

insisted.

The small upstairs apartment was cluttered with

books and videogames. A TV lay sideways on the carpet

amongst the empty food wrappers. The lighting being

unusually bright gave off a stagnant heat and there I was in

a chair at the small round table with two people I hardly

knew.

So we started playing this game I’d never heard of.

I was too distracted to care much and just stared at the deck

and the back of the bicycle cards with distant eyes. All the

intricate colored lines and the two opposing cherub with the

thin white border. I swallowed my phlegm; we’d been

smoking hashish all night. The cards had that perfect

texture for gripping and sliding across the table. Simon

shuffled them with ease. The faces of their royal family and

DEIMOS

the unaffected eyes as they stood on the face of the cards in

bland primary colors were swiped into a deck a divided

amongst three of us.

The rules said to involve piling cards in a set to a

particular method and slapping the set upon triggered

patterns that just weren’t there. I was stoned and didn’t

really care plus I was getting antsy and tired and felt

claustrophobic.

“Alright, I’m taking off.”

I stood up and gave an obligatory peace out then

walked out the door closing it behind me. The sky was dark

and full of omniscient clouds of doom with a cold fog and

crisp breeze blowing electricity through the air, I stepped

out onto the concrete and let out a deep sigh to the winter

night.

I went to my car dimly lit under the car port and got

in. Crumpled cigarette packs, term papers, books, and tapes

scattered the brown leather interior, old car smell and stale

smoke. I pulled out of the lot and headed home. I turned on

the heater and pushed in the cigarette lighter after pressing

play on the tape deck.

DEIMOS

A local band, I got the demo tape from a show.

Smoking my cigarette listening deeply to melancholic

trumpet sighing over the downed tempo piano melodies, all

complimented by drums and crescendos of sound clips

from rare independent films.

There was no one else lost on the grey freeway, it

was late and a weeknight in my hometown. I turned into

suburbia and parked across from the house. The white

cherub statuette sat there on the picket fence with its baby

angel wings and its chipped smile towards me.

I turned off the car and just sat there for a second

breathing the cold air down my throat and into my lungs,

listening to the tape. It faded out to silence and reeled to a

click.

I didn’t want to go inside. I didn’t want to get out of

the car.

So, looking for another tape in the center console I

found a blank cassette I wasn’t familiar with, it had just one

label with chicken scratches of a “Happy Birthday,” a gift?

What started out as poorly recorded guitar chords

cut halfway through a chorus abruptly broken by deep

laughter then to sounds of a meager party.

DEIMOS

I sat in the car for a while, listening to the tape.

Then all of the sudden a huge shadow mantis appeared

outside of the car swaying back and forth at me with its bug

eyes.

The tape clicked to a reel and then started to talk to

me in two conversing high Elvin voices.

“The bug is not real.”

“Yes it is.”

“HAHAHAHAHAHA”

I tossed and turned in my bed, my body stiff and

ancient, crumbling like a statue or a fallen idol, stuck in

insomnia. I just lay there, eyeballs staring into the ceiling

and beyond…

I got up and took the tape out and decided to figure

it out.

I copied it to my computer, slowed it down I heard a

conversation about foreign language policy during world

war two and slowed further it drew out to a buzzing sound

yet clearly the chant of “Six, six, six.” The mark of the

beast…

What had just happened?

DEIMOS

Demonic possession?

Suddenly it was freezing cold and I could see my

breath. I shut the computer down as my nerves did the

same, closing the window I flipped the blinds and fell

asleep.

I dreamt I was waiting at the transit; no one was

there but me.

And everything was grey.

A dying wind blew trash down the street. The

thought of a girl crossed my mind but only briefly then the

thought disappeared like the dust in the gutters.

I got up and started to walk; I turned a corner and

stumbled up some stairs. I followed the steps into the dark,

it got darker and darker as I went up. Then it was all black

except in the cement there, a luminescent shining lamp

emitting grey clouds of smoke through an enigma of thick

radiating shadow of light.

Instinctively I reached for the lamp.

As I touched it I awoke with my eyes open with a

dark mattered translucent demon coming out of my chest

DEIMOS

flashing a sinister sneer violently choking me against the

mattress.

Two more poked their translucent horned heads out

and grabbed my arms from either side of me with hellish

grins.

He slammed my chest harder and harder and choked

me and I tried to scream but no sound came out.

I shut my eyes in horror and for a moment I died

inside.

Frantically I prayed it stop.

Just then a blinding light shaped like a bell came

spiraling through the window floating down gracefully

sucking the demons like a vacuum spinning back out from

whence it came.

Then I was alone.

That’s when the nausea settled.

A thick dwelling pit turned in my stomach to what

felt like rocks.

Vomiting I ran to the toilet.

I fell.

DEIMOS

Sprawled to my knees burning in my throat on my

hands and knees in shock.

A pair of tentacle insectoid parasites swam deathly

in a pool of vomit and black blood.

My eyes through the ceiling I helplessly shouted out

save me again and again. My father broke the door down

screaming.

“What the hell is going on?”

Vaguely aware of my sister Angela in the next room

running water as she banged on the wall.

“NO!” She shrieked like a banshee in horror.

“Stop, that’s how demons manifest!” She cried then

wept.

“Save me!” Again and again and again.

I took a breath in shock agony and despair and

flushed the toilet knowing those things, whatever they were

would haunt me for years leaving me suffering in

existential despair wondering what had really happened.

That summer the heat burnt off slowly in an Indian

summer.

DEIMOS

A scarecrow in the distance with a purple coat and a

pumpkin head hung lifeless above the dry field, wooden

bones above the hay.

Flies buzzed all mechanical circling it flying

through ectoplasms, trails of tetra grams. Landing on your

face and skull, through your ears, digging into the pours

and boring into your flesh, squirming maggots devouring.

The field and dead tree and sky and everything fell

into red, then faded to a hearty purple.

All swelling like a purple vein then dyed to

apocalyptic grey when pitch black silence arose for all

eternity.

DEIMOS

Hand of God

In the center of town there rest a marble stone statue

of a hand, stained with age, the monument as old as anyone

alive could remember. Day after day people lingered

around this cultural symbol.

Downtown was reminiscent of a broken glass once

half empty that Friday the 13th.

I walked up and there was some broken glass on the

cement, it seemed to stand out shining for eternity and

everything seemed translucent and blood red.

I waited at the hand meeting an Rx apothecary to

get some pain meds. I use the term apothecary loosely, drug

dealer just sounds so pass. I only use to numb the pain, I

try not to overdo it usually. But I was getting a lot because

they were smaller milligrams, but at the same time because

of that they were cheaper, so I ended up getting a lot more.

And Paracelsus said that “All things are poisons, for

there is nothing without poisonous qualities. It is only the

dose which makes a thing a poison.” So, maybe I would

make a poison of the thing, no real plan, just picking some

up.

DEIMOS

Usual daydreams faded in hesitation as I walked.

We met up and had a brief mumbo jumbo

conversation about nothing in particular, I think something

or other to do with new technologies.

He slid the pills into my hand promising bliss and

hours of euphoria.

I felt as if it were to be and I walked away.

A cagey friend of mine, my ride, was in his car

waiting for me.

I got in the car.

“Got it?”

“Yea.”

Not much for conversation.

Everything in my sight had a seeming glow.

I felt trapped in freedom, desire, and ironically

powerless to a violent justice, as all the unappreciated

spiders webs. They’d construct in corners of the relative

world unseen by man. Their home, (a tangent) theirs*.

I held onto the pills tightly in my pocket; my saving

grace in this war based economy. If monism, the

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philosophy that everything is a single entity were only

more believable, if only I had the faith.

Is it my fate to be doomed into this hedonist’s

struggle, must I forever be lost dreaming up others

nightmares as if lying on the shore of infinity ocean, like

99*?

My friend drops me off. I’d used him for the ride.

He’s a sucker for something to do.

Facts seem to fall hard upon ages of understanding,

stress falls from the metaphysique as I put the Rx up my

nose at home and unto my face. Too many binders… 10 x

10 mgs, an overwhelming feeling of greed and bliss takes

hold as the opioids melt my psychic pain. Numb.

I do not condone killing emotions with pills to

anyone, yet every day I watch as so many bite off more

than they can chew. For the challenge. For something to

feel, and to overcome.

Reality is a vacuum, think, what we know of deep

space, vacancy; and we just know our true insignificance in

the bigger picture, jpeg, pain, death, doom, science

nationals, gross, gif, and death to nihilism, minimalism, and

repetition.

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Insane, ignorant, eccentric, pretentious, closed

minded, superficial, entitled, stuck up, right, manipulative,

brainwashed, angry, controlling, self-destructive, fearful,

megalomaniacal.*

(*this metaphor makes no sense.)

To revert this as a metaphor for your luck.

Mushroom clouds of poisonous neurochemistry and raw

visceral pain consuming through your ambivalence.

Living through suicide. That man that endures

himself in the ultimate pain of life and death, and is

essentially living through suicide in his own existence

every day, just waiting and watching the hand on the clock

as the minutes tick away.

Sit and act confused. You’re so spiritually harmful.

So eat.

I pop a few pills in my mouth and chew the bitter

chalky powder and swallow with my dry mouth.

I lay down on the floor limbs stretch out like an X

in blissful nothingness.

I once constructed a table way too high.

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It was made of a schedule of doses all in clear lines

and too digitally torn all black and white.

Tonight poisons providing the warmth and comfort

of God.

All this in an over wired world, high on pain killers.

Death by my own hand.

Suicide.

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“The thieves came in through the day dream door,

numeric order known to no one.” The Paranoiac said to the

Suicide King, to himself.

Deimos is that place you go. You don’t remember

how you got there, but once you’ve been and turned back,

something has indefinitely changed and will never be quite

be the same.

The second moon of Mars, a crooked little satellite,

the Greek word for dread and panic.

Deimos, similar to a black hole of sorts, an

unknown of loose wires and orbital decadence, open

valleys of emotionless and mind numbing fear.

Deimos; a pen name, a tag, a handle, something

never should have been taken. Little did he know at the

time the power of the word itself.

Deimos always wore the same thing; black pants

and a black and yellow shirt of the schematics of a broken

machine with a diagram of the Babylonian triangle of

captivity, skate shoes.

He lived in California.

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When he went out he’d throw on a hoodie and ride

a green BMX. He’d painted it with spray paint one

summer.

There were winds of darkness, stars cut across lines

of the night sky through which navigation would be

literally absurd to attempt any sort of calculation, so minute

and precise in there randomly entropic detail.

Orbiting; a graph of such a chart would simply be

called unsolvable or void.

He rambled on Epiphany, a holiday in early

January; he knew what it meant. The times were slowing

down for him, a simple reminder of how life can be full of

wonder and mystery. Epiphany was a great day in winter,

the sun came out over a cool fog and shone down hard on

the pavement.

Deimos rode the green BMX around town.

Speeding like a missile with the wind flowing, he

felt like king.

Deimos woke up one morning, blinded by the smell

of coffee brewing. He looked out the window of the flat; it

was dark out.

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Lines cut across his wrists like a cross hatches or a

jagged ladder climbing nowhere.

Scar.

He didn’t know why.

Something about a machine being broken.

The blade shining in the light of his eyes had

contrasted the darkness of the blood.

Scar.

He scratched his head and grappled with the spoon

and coffee, sugar.

He stood upon the universal unabridged dictionary

he’d tossed on the floor some time earlier like the book was

a podium and gave a slurred speech to no one in particular

ending in the word “Deimos.”

Then bowed a thank you and sipped his coffee.

There was a general haziness about him this time

around.

One thing was that the music always blared twenty

four hours a day.

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The structure he lived in was very old, it must have

been used for a bomb shelter when it was originally built.

There was an odd ventilation system and there also seemed

to be a lot of the signs on the walls which led him to

believe it may have been a bar or hotel previously. It was a

decent place, but he’d hope to move up. The windows were

harsh and difficult to open, you couldn’t see through them

very well, they were covered with stream lines and caked

with dust. The floor was covered in books and loose papers,

he was working on putting together a project of sorts.

He sat at the desk and pulled out a cell phone and

started to tovel, a term from Japan meaning text messaging

a novel. He hadn’t gotten very far but he liked the idea so

he rolled with it.

He sipped his coffee and pulled out an 80mg

OxyContin from a box and put it in his mouth. He let the

blue film coating the outside melt on his tongue. He pulled

it out and wiped it with a paper towel.

Then he took out a cigarette cellophane and crushed

the pill under it with a lighter with the suicide king of

hearts on it.

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The powder lay on the desk and he cut it up into a

line with an over balanced credit card.

He rolled up a fifty dollar bill and put the powder

up his nose through the dead face of Grant. In awe he

leaned back in his chair then got up and lay on the floor.

Which is where he lay for over an hour with his

limbs stretched out like a cross or an X.

Light flickered and night crept out through the

window. Time seemed irrelevant, he never knew whether it

was night or day any more.

It’s all just eternal moments when you’re high.

He got up.

He had his cake and ate it too.

A psychedelic breakfast with a banana, cake, and

coffee in the early dawn, he knew there were others like

him all around; nocturnal night crawlers who would roll out

of bed in the middle of the night for breakfast and do their

routine then, he knew that he was not the only one.

The music was an “autonomic rock-out machine”

and had a life of its own.

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He tried to turn it down but the wires went hay wire

and just go up and the volume remained neutral. It liked to

play itself loud. Right then it was blaring a thirty minute

piece of symphonic post rock, at times the song would

crescendo so loud the walls would shake and at others there

were minute gaps of silence of feedback. The equalizer was

acting up.

Leave electronics on long enough they take on a life

of their own.

He opened the door.

The wind felt cool but there was an emptiness in

space. The stars just weren’t there, just a flat cool black sky

strewn across nothingness. Street lamps and the cross from

the church across the street.

It felt like a black hole or that time right before an

earthquake when everything stands still.

He smoked a cigarette.

The sun started to show its rays.

A little after dawn K. stopped by.

K. lives right down the street.

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Friends for daze.

Like thieves in the night they went for a drive in his

black Beemer.

They spoke of a new publishing project in the

works. Electronica music blared out the windows as the

dawn air flowed into the car, K. was wearing shades.

“Want to get coffee D.?”

“Yea let’s go.”

“I will buy you a cup.”

K. took off his sunglasses and parked the car.

The January weather was cool before the dawn of a

promising year.

A man sat at a table was speaking in prophetic

Nostrodamean language in the dawn eating a croissant, his

hair wild with energy he had papers sprawled in front of

him, probably working on a piece.

There was a silent moment of quiet electric

disconnect in the weather as they walked through the cold

plaza early morning.

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K. wore a blood red shirt with dripping black lines

with a spiral from the ribs.

They parted ways after coffee. K. had business to

attend to, Deimos unlocked the door to his flat and went

inside.

He looked out the window, the sun was high in the

sky by this point, the chimneys blowing warm vapors into

the cool winter air from roof tops. He stood upon a broken

laptop like a podium and went over the etymology of the

word Deimos, mentioning Ares, the word for Art or War,

Mars in Roman, or the astronomical body in our heavens.

Then he went into the two sons of Ares; Phobos and

Deimos, Phobos being fear and Deimos being dread. Fear,

trembling, dread, panic, the personification of sheer terror

and despair.

“The suicide king of hearts… in the cards” he

sipped his coffee and stepped off a broken machine.

FIN

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