The Egg of Screaming Terror

Everything truly important happens in the twinkling of an eye. We preside over the others on the knife-edge between pettiness and glory. We walk in no-sleep surrounded by the kinds of symptoms that normal humans have long associated with brain-fever - loss of appetite, electric buzzing, astral worms, malaise etc. We are floating in an Aethyric sea behind wooden smugglers' vessels to moments of quiet reflection into the arms of Amorpheus. We will win the War Against Sleep. Our vigil is interrupted by the sound of dogs - dogs of greed and envy. The staff of sloth we hold to ward off sleep and sin is in our right hand. We were dragged into this state of awareness against our wishes. Attrition has turned into full-scale war and now we can never again slumber or even rest. We tread the shores of insomnia. We slowly disappear amidst the dread-heaps of confusion, dirt and weeds. The War Against Sleep is more insidious and more notorious than life will allow. Power-bleak, power-black teeth in the maw of a perpetual war against unconsciousness. The dead cannot sleep peacefully. Now fast ephemeral eyeless flying worms that feed on human addiction and weakness surround us. Our perceptual mechanisms are infested with these wrongnesses. They are responsible for the desecration of cemeteries, the informalisation of culture, and a bland wave of acceptance that puts everybody to sleep. The wave rises up like a tsunami inside the Machine to gather around the turtle and the monkey-puzzle tree. The helmet, lance, and falchion keep us from our slumber. These are our meat hooks. The adversary has replaced the yolk of the black egg with souls of Hell. That is why our soul-eggs all have to be broken by sunset. Otherwise, when we rise from the dead, we will lose the war against the snake. The stone will give it smoke and take us to the woods. We have committed many crimes against humanity and against our own kind. There will be no rest for us. We consider ourselves as dark warriors that have been mortally wounded with gentle kisses. Fly through closed windows that shatter loudly. They woke us from our sleep to see myriad shards like Abraham's countless stars - to be contained and detained. We will not succumb to die in our sleep or at another sign of the black cross. We cannot and will not support witch-hunts, emotional cancer and unnecessary psychic surgery for hours with fingertips against a wall. We will never consent to constant ghost harassment and sleep deprivation from all manner of ghouls and lost beings. In the end they all prove ineffective in the war against sleep. Terror! The two twins of the black and white pillars throw the eggshell and the bronze alligator spins around, screaming, several times before exploding... Beyond the discovery of the evil egg of screaming Terror we are alone in our gowns surrounded by astral worms. We stare at the orb on its pewter tripod and are granted an apparition of the lizard with the egg. The apparition comes to life. Our vegetable souls scream and run towards the void like quicksilver on an incline. Mortals may run in screaming terror from the horrors of the fat screaming mouth, a gurgle from the black-past, but we must remain - alert. In the beforetime, they hid both good and evil eggs. Words...it is all just words...Behold the egg, the ovum! From egg to exile. Our world dies screaming. No urgency, no emotion, no terror - just acceptance...It is done...We are initiated.

WAR AGAINST SLEEP