SIDEREAL BARS #2: ZOS KIA CULTIS
Blimey...now I've turned into what looks like Hitler played by Martin Sheen.
(Leans in a bit closer to squint thru expensive-but-ultimately-useless varifocals) No, hang on...waitaminute, its this bloke:
Crikey. Austin Osman Spare: proto-surrealist and sex-magician...the spirit-world's answer to Jason King. Oh-er, I...I feel some automatic writing coming on:
Ahhhh, ye faint-hearted venomous claw kin...doest thou eat thine own pee, would that it be solid enough to mute this fretful ache. Ears of clay can only hear the sound of unturned mud; fecal crowmeat, a fitting banquet for King Corrupt, Duke of The Blind, at whose table all will one day sit.
Listen! For I hear the sound of rushing air, of squealing, light-blinded night, tainted and unforgiven. The hot breath of owls.
Limbs made brittle by frost...burden yourself not with conscience, lest your limbs snap beneath its weight. The heavens themselves pivot before my soot-blackened eye-sockets, for I have peered down God's own chimney.
All are one; all are of one flesh, one mind, one all-binding form, bruised and languid...so who's up for a bit of 'ow's yer father?