Acrostic ritual poem written during Samhain rite, 2026. Odin’s Skull was amazing. So was the dancing and singing:
Sin Ump Runs Goo Into Ton Echo
Simper some sexy supplication
save seraph sons for sultry sidewinder
sprig scrutineers scout instigation
stalking sanctified spiral wideminder
Untamed uroboros undulates the Ur
uncannily upending ugly umbral ucks
utilizing Ustinovian, unwitting uncs purr
kneeling up under Urim, she sucks
Ramming Ra rite's randy rompus room
redaction roll-up ravages raven raw
rapt Ruach ropes rawkus ripe boom
ravenous revenant rooks a dragon claw
Gushing Grail gal greasing grippy gamma
granting gravitational gasping game
gilding grim given gothic gold slamma
govern guarded grave ghostinated flame
Ichoresy'S incandescent Inanna ilk
ipsissimus' ineffable iron iris
immolating irresistibly some imp milk into intending inexorable, fire is
Teasing the temptress through tire trails
tying a Typhon to totemic tanks
trigger the throttling troweltastic sails
traversed trap tripwire; telling trolls, thanks!
Ecce! an eccentric elusive enticement
Eleusinian evolutionary Eros En Sof
eyeballing eidetic equity enspicement
eloquently encircling a sin doff
Umbrae meae, hic locus sanctus vobis—
hostes, ardete.
—M.
Um… Fuck yeah!
:)))))))
Next Week
Monday — A Field Manual on Moral Contempt
Workplace mobbing isn’t cruelty—it’s engineering. It has a designed output, a concealment strategy, and a specific intended wound. This post is a field manual for the person currently on the receiving end of one: how the machinery works, why moral contempt is the only response with real structural integrity, and what it means that the aggressors’ escalations are filing evidence against themselves every time. There’s also a reckoning with the people running these operations—the scale of ambition they bring to the project of hurting one person’s feelings/ruining their life, and what that disproportion tells you about the size of the soul behind it. If you’ve ever been on the wrong end of a coordinated social campaign and couldn’t name what you were seeing, this is the vocabulary.
Thursday — Oh, You Think That’s Power?
Someone decided you were their project. They ran the numbers, picked their tools, and came for you—and you’re still here trying to figure out what you did wrong. Let me save you the trouble: you didn’t do anything wrong. You did something far more unforgivable. You were something they couldn’t be, in a room where they had to watch it. This one’s for everyone who’s ever been targeted by someone(s) they never wronged—and for anyone still fooled into thinking cruelty is power. Spoiler: it isn’t. It never was. And we’re going to take the whole thing apart.