Krsna- Well, what better way to say "fuck you", than more bad, hallucinogenic prose?
"We wandered and wondered, together, like children, the earth become our private garden, walled by the horizon's shadow, vaulted by the moonlit sky, the masterwork of an indulgent patriarch. A-crossing where the roads cross, and crossing where the dead lay crossed, and across to where by day the children play, I saw there in all earthly things, in the grass and the trees, in walkways and children's follies, a complex geometry, rigid in its repetition and oppressive in its opulence, the countless bars of beautiful prisons, hiding unknown possibilities to waking eyes.
And so I swung her round by her supple waist, seeking succor in her unearthly loveliness, her lithe limbs, her laughing eyes, her loving lips. Her capering, her cajoling, her consenting and consorting, her unbound by the earth that bore her, her that was then mine. Her that I then dreamed of as in an age lost, her in endless layers of lace, her pursued by suitors at every side, her for whom they cut each other down, and I they, for her, for her, one after the next. Her and I, in a great stone house, silent as the great oak stood beside it, roots deep, deep as would be the new-minted traditions we'd instill in our progeny, on that distant day, on that distant world of their choosing, when they sat on green grass, beneath blue skies of their own making. Her and I, ancient dead, and yet our will being done.
And after long we returned to my unhome, my ugly little place in the world, and in longing we fell into each other, loving, I cleaving her, she cleaving to me, long, and for long hours after I lay waking, beside her sleeping beauty, dreaming."
