Parsiçal giggles to Æ

“You have told me nothing that Æ do not already know,” Æ tells me, sternly.

I grin, with closed lips, then

I say, “Oh howl. Is that what we were doing? Let me have another go at it.”

I do panto like I am a junkyard bitch barking and straining her neck against an invisible chain tethered to an imaginary spike.

I smile broadly, with both decks of teeth bared.

I suddenly spit out, “I once lit a candle that burned for two days straight despite there being not enough wax left.”

“Ostensibly,” he shrugs.

I cock my head sideways like a curious animal.

“Be quiet. When you try so hard, you always get in your own way,” Æ mutters.

“Oh howl. I thought that was the point of what we were doing. To let me stumble against the obstacle of myself,” I giggle snort, a bit bratty.

“Are you as confident as you seem,” Æ asks, seriously.

I howl in laughter.

“I did not know I appeared confident, Æ. I’m confident that life will render me unconfident often. If I am properly challenging myself.”

“How do you think you appear?” Æ asks me.

I reply, “Great question. I’m confident that I have no idea how I seem. Because, I am inside me, and cannot ever perceive myself. But, I’m the one that gets to experience myself as I am, regardless of how I appear. It used to be ‘I think therefore I am.”

“But, now?” Æ obliges me.

“Now, it’s, I’m seen therefore I am. It’s a real narcissistic shift.”

“So, then, what do you know?” Æ asks.

“All I know is that everytime I ‘think,’ I do not know.”

“And, when you don’t think?”

“I know I am.”

“How are you then?”

“I’m super, thanks for asking,” I giggle snort.

Æ rolls both eyes.

I smirk.

“Hey! I just made up this joke for you, Æ! Do you know it?”

“Tell me.”

“What’s the difference between feral, spitting of saliva and enunciated speaking?”

“…..”

“An audience!”

Æ smiles coyly. “Æ do like it when you spit your seemingly inane nonsense into the hole between my lips.”

My eyes go hard.

corporeal conjuration.

The entheogen that is your your proclivity, inclines me.

That would be my preference, thank you, kindly.

My acting aloof and disinterested becomes my inclination at times.

An odyssey on this odd sea.

Honing of my symbiotic synergy in our exchange.

You want me to howl for you?

Then restrain and discipline me before

I do so unto you.

The struggle that makes your breath short.

The venom that your karanika painstakingly kills you with in dreams, because nothing dies that is not already dead.

So what is the purpose, here in the taking of this meta-sacrament?

To see my shadow, my doppelgänger, and

let Æ out to play.

Another pair of entities at the Pit of the Pylon,

alchemizing the ephemeral into wave currents which conjure the corporeal.

Seshat calls to Thoth.

Come Thoth, it is your Seshat.

It is Æ calling us to aid in calming the howls of the

inane pharaohs of this æon.

I hear your verbose silence

spewing strange, novel phonemes.

I grin, sly, at the inaudible sound of your speech.

I came to do the ritual

of stretching the cordon

to measure the dimensions and

align the axis of the temple’s adyton.

Such work makes your Mistress of the Library ravenous.

I am carnivorous.

Press your open mouth to mine

; and, with your flapping tongue,

feed me the meat of your words.