by Daniel Davis Clayton

Deep in the recesses of light, I happened upon a bit of darkness and that's where I began. Searching for aviation amongst the citizens of the fallen. That's where I found Austin. Calling me into its own bit of hope and heuristics. Who could harbor such Helvetica into American Gothic Condensed? With one keystroke it became bolden in such a way as to state its own importance and beckoned me to begin.

Few could understand its lonely tangents and directive simplifications as perhaps you could. Late night discussions of the blues in languages only the down-trodden could bear to comprehend brought forth the dewdrops of acknowledgment. Dissection of sentences was folly upon my part and broad generalization bearing the fruit of stereotypical commitments was yours. Who but us could understand? A bit of negronomical hypothesis to converge the two. We schemed against reality.

We could have become more much in the way of genesis had either of our conduits focused; but alas, such is the way of euphemistic mannerisms. There was too much to be contained in the think-tank of ghettotorian lackluster; therefore, we shone like beacons emitting dark pulsars in the blindness of overexposure. Had such idolatry remained, we both would have suffered internal emotional hemorrhaging; even aortas weaken from too much UV. In CB talk, our handles were Poetic Thug and Thug Poet whereas even the hypocritical knew to beware our wrath. So we darted like fireflies against the light-consuming backdrop of black holes reversed. We were ancient and wise and new and green and word-spew rotted in our mandibles as we chewed the fat of breeze shooting meteors. We would burn bright in the atmosphere of America only momentarily, turning to ashes in our attempts at reunification. An outreached hand groping for nothingness. Who but us could conceive such notions and continue as if we were ignorant of the futility of our actions? We raged against systematic specifications which entrapped our darkness into small self-containing units.

Brother or not, we continued our journey, italicizing the bullet points and important places. Magnificent stories would spawn from our meager travels. But you haven't to go far for enlightenment. Men cry in the dark when others grease their scalps with the oils of their labor. Parentheses captured such sentiments for sidebars to warrant further notation at the end of the article. And our column was short indeed.

Full of grammatical errors and insufficient evidence to support our differing ideal logy, we came to know insubordination as intimately as we knew each other. Somewhere along that path, beaten and deemed travelable by only our heels, did we find Garamond strategies to fortify the maintenance of thwarted positions. Becoming strong in our own beliefs, we became impenetrable by mortals and set forth to seek God. Soon finding, in our heightened since of being, that dead walked among us. And there, deep in the recesses of light, we happened upon a bit of darkness; and that's where we began.