You did not realize that we are more powerful than your wildest imaginings,
and that you have never truly understood what we’re made of.
Desperate times call for desperate monsters,
old chap.
There is a feathered claw behind you.
medium.com/@caityjohnston…
We were satisfied with our Netflix and our Taco Bell.
We were not happy, but we were satisfied.
the strange DMT gods that live in our foreheads,
or the screw snakes sleeping at the base of our spine,
or the mushroom giants who dwell behind our visual fields,
or the great golden frog at the center of the earth.
the caterpillar planets from the depths of space,
or the elephant squid from our secret abysses,
or the mammoth moths from the tabernacle in our throat,
or the Yellow Priestess from Her dinosaur throne.
you see,
desperate times call for desperate monsters.
dust the cheese puff dust from off our sweatpants,
grumble our way over to the police tape-covered door
and, after clearing the theremin and the surfboard
and the sewing machine out of the way
(none of which we use anymore but we keep meaning to),
to burn this motherfucker to the ground.
and a viable planet,
and maybe some healthcare for the Yanks,
but you bastards got greedy
and now your mouths are full of weirdling worms,
and I bet you all feel quite silly now.
and wands that shoot eel ogres,
and benthic beasts swimming in our souls.
You did not realize that we are more powerful than your wildest imaginings,
and that you have never truly understood what we’re made of.
old chap.
There is a feathered claw behind you.