fetch-decode-execute

Wickedly he sat — six arms dancing as shadows might — tall above the caves’ floors. An ominous star, bits slipped down thick in sludges of poison. Black thrived amok around him. Figures shifted nonexistent, pushing reality in sickly ways one would struggle to ascribe words to. Snakes of prismatic graphics write glitches in the sacred geometry whom frailly attempts to envelop his facets. In the center of the jovial death was his slender figure, head like a crown, limbs like stalks. Wisps reminiscent of the pale rider, skeletal // hieroglyphic. It was clear we were not the first humans to witness him — centuries of his presence had been documented. His representation had been maligned (unavoidably so), mainly through the color of his being: famously known as the grey but viciously black beyond physical matter. He might not have existed, if you didn’t feel him so tarrish. An intense fear fills you: his aura of having-seen-it / you couldn’t grasp what he knew if he led you to it deftly and patiently. You know he could mis-exist you, so bad as to not just erase you, but pervert and misplace you. He’s capable of what, if you could ever fathom nonsense, you would call the impossible. He is, himself, — if you’re indeed comprehending him correctly — the impossible. Bear witness to the form of variable. Etched in fire on your consciousness: run. Scratched hellborne and heavensent into your stupid pink brain: the necessity to flee; the desperate essence of escape. But much deeper and below from within the well of your soul comes the truer command — the one obeyed and unshakable: bow. As you are one in his presence, you are one of his brood.