Leviathan Arises

The Professor came to the sea. His car was useless in the lot. His wallet and keys had been stolen by the hooker last night.

“Primordial Leviathan rages as tides, a great dragon of horrific force that makes a chaos of such disorder it can be known only as VOID.”

The Professor awoke in the bleary half-light of a clouded day, grey cold skies overlooking the waters. The Professor stood up against his will and stumbled to lean against the frame of the wide-open sliding door, air washing in over the 3rd story balcony of his hotel room. It wouldn’t close. Wind whipped his face. His head was pounding, deprived of any number of addictions.

“Above and Below were divided carefully to produce the two who walked hand in hand upon the land they formed.”

The Professor walked along the beach and stumbled into the surf, his glasses askew as his cheeks sunk into wet sand. A wave broke onto the slope and washed over his head, matting his grey hair to his pallid skin.

“Hand in hand, they danced upon the barren rocks that formed below and made the Ten Thousand Things. Hand in hand, they bloodlet upon each other’s breast and made the waters that flowed back to their origin.”

The Professor smoked nervously on a cold concrete floor. The Professor saw a flock of birds travel an unknown direction in the grey sky. The Professor saw clouds darkening and felt the end of the world draw near.

“The Ten Thousand Things danced in mutual bloodletting as knives sunk into flesh and blood poured and the sky turned in horror at the wreck of thunder that clapped in great events of knife after knife collected and poised to fall…”

The Professor felt as though he was being edged. He couldn’t cum. The hooker wouldn’t see him anymore. The clouds became darker. The Professor couldn’t stop crying without sobbing. The Professor stopped needing to eat. The Professor sat on the floor of his hotel room and never noticed that night never fell, that his watch stopped telling time, that anything but the wind and darkening skies stopped moving at all.

“I am that I am. I am your us. I am your them. I am their us. I am their them. I am the knives, I am your flesh and your doctor. I am your blood and your dance. I am your interlocked limbs. I am your tension and I am the cry without words as your tension breaks. I am. I am that I am.”

The Professor had served in Vietnam. The Professor had taken a scapular of dried ears upon his rotten flak jacket. The Professor had worn glasses and brushed aside broadleaved ferns and bleached out skulls in the river.

“Fire is universal. The Flood is universal. Both come from Leviathan. Leviathan rises from the sea, the great dragon. Leviathan breathes from our mouthes and strikes with our hands. Leviathan brings us to crash as we once did in the ocean.”

The Professor had seen chariots arise over cloudbanks resting low upon a swamp. The Professor had watched rotten brown water boil as life exploded, Agent Orange’s hypertrophy effect blooming and rioting before napalm would bring life by force, bring virility beyond what any life can withstand, bring the sun to the surface. Darkness had no place in the swamp anymore. The Professor held aloft a burned body, in the light, the light that only is, the desolate absence of the moon and the shadow.

“Lighting killed The Professor and sunk him into the black abyss. He dissolved into brine. He rejoined the dragon.”