I. the rise to power.

Your window has sold me out-
I glide past everything; guised in shadows.
But you had share with me
the warming glare. Didnt you?
I am quieter than the hum of your fan.
Yet, that will not disturb your dreams.
Not here. Not now; no. But my sillhouette-
my tiny angel wings, my bleakest of whites
will cause a revolt. an uprising. A revolution-
on the wings of a moth.
Power, then comes
from subordinance and need;
I did not seek control, only the warmth.
But to this end, the incomprehensible
gift of godliness.

II. the abuse.

I am tapping on the glass-
as i tap every night. The king has come now
to ascend his throne.
I demand your attention;
this is the calling card of clout. A photograph taken
further immortalizes me, to no purpose
for i am immortal nonetheless.
Yes, I can see you shaking in terror;
Fear is a powerful tool in the eyes of a tyrant.
You are enslaved to my bidding.
Do not pace to the door! TAPTAPTAP
Attention. Watch Me.

III. the downfall of the empire.

My Reign will never cease. as you slumber,
I will come back to your window another night.
You can not flee. I am omnipresent.
My bidding will haunt you, no matter where or when.
Come. Dance with me, mortal. I fancy a dance.
Closer.

I can feel you coming to annex my power.

You can not kill a god. Stop, Cease! Away!
How Dare you threaten the emperor? the armies will invade.

IV. the last war.

And a symphony of crashes erupts in the room.
the window shattered, both man and moth-
mortals. equals. dripping mixed blood from
the top of the window pane to the
bottom of it's shattered remains.
a body is recovered from the wreckage;
The leader has been toppled.
Man, basquing in his (bruised) triumph
fails to notice the Rebellion Army;
Invading at will.
buzzing in unison,
a battle cry of sorts is discovered.
"The leader is gone, a new king will rise."
An invasion now becomes maliciously fought
with chemical warfare. This invasion is triumphed.
The Great King of man, now again in power.

V. the second uprising.

As he turns out the glow of light,
an army of darkness assembles.
tonight, he will dream of power.
when I pass the window the next eve
I will be king.

VI. End.

07/17/2003

Author's Note: this is probably the craziest thing i've ever written. thanks to: the mars volta for providing the music this was composed to. my dad, who provided the second-hand pot smoke to get me a wee bit high. lack of sleep for making me crazy. dedicated to the moth outside my window. edited 7/17/03 language updated a wee bit.

Posted on 07/17/2003
Copyright © 2024 Andrew S Adams