[Second Seed 6th, 4E 433] Only the Sec'nds and Spaces 'twixt Spaces-

[First to Grace eyes [1st Post]: is’t faire, my deares? Composed whilst trippin’ the light fantastic in the “cosmic-world” [hint, hint] & I’ve got to ask- Tamriel- was’t she my Muse to convey the opiate spore, or mine angel-owne, my summon’d ost, with a Dagóthi thermos serpent-poison fill’d I drank for mithridate ’gainst ghost-touch of hours? This unhealthy amaranth I dedicate to Akatosh & His NU-Son by Numantia, Tosh-Raka, Aürbic Emperor.]

Momently quixotic white stains across the windows blasted by the suns and spares the glass in touching my redden’d cheek, the rush of blood thro’ mine hour-long veins, blurring of the world beyond the silvers of mine eyes, augustly painting me across the rambling walls behinde, transports me and transmutes me. The plastered years with poorly painted memories hung and strung along upon a moth-eaten rope of hemp have rotted into passing delirious centuries, the senile draconic litany ov’r a recitation of rumoured slithers, repititious, resignéd murmurs, scattered, fallen into spacious aeons. I have no ears for the sundered moaning that ensues from the molten mouthing, rapacious paralleléd parcels of hungry formless voids which attune the windy groaning of those ancient asterous robber-baron horrors, their children the years that ramble, in a crystal-lattice crib, flow’r strewn, trembling against the shift metre in progression of the harmonious minutes at the movement of snakes unto a babe. Oh, how sound and space and time to crack, as doth a supple stammer in poisonous rivers like an Akhilleus lower’d pass halt unto halt among dripping mithradates, muddled? Martyred inside noxious monsters’ sarcophagi [understand that the lunar footprints in the season of the broken times, of astral fate-eggs embedded, marked upon column’d monuments unto mad-dragons, drizzle themselves like even more vacuous seconds when- only when- the memory of the extra-liminal plotter’s crucifixion, is brought to bear a tear of angelic wingéd minute-menders against azure mornings and midsummer cast even-tide, and there whereupon is paired the worm and sky is with the rose-floor from und’r it pulled away, collapses into a pool that dawns upon thee, to elucidate thee], eyes widen unto master-rays of ticking music-sphere like stripp’d nostalgia and mouth moves unto singular inquirie. And she answ’rs-