Tony Grist (poliphilo) wrote,
Tony Grist

Apologia Pro Vita Suae

I wanted to know the secret so I became a priest. I found out that the secret was a casket full of air. Perfumed air. So I became another sort of a priest. Always a priest. Always surrounded by an aura of benevolence and wisdom- hiding in the cloud.

Wisdom was my junk food, was my junk. I dispensed it with gracious hands. "Here, my dear, have some junk. The secret is there is no secret." "Thank you, your endearing holiness."

Carnival time.

Working as that other sort of priest, I prayed for Understanding. Yes, I knew what I was doing; I was praying to Binah, the Great Cunt in the Sky, Mrs Womb-Tomb-Doom, Creator and Destroyer. Undo me if you must but just let me KNOW.

And then, rattle-bang-flop- out the funhouse door. No more distorting mirrors, no more scary clowns, no more dancing skellibobs.

Oh look. Just look at the....
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