Steady Peddlin’: The Old Gods Love Cyrillic Trails
Cyrillic Trails Pullover Hoodie ($66.00 $46.20)
See the house. Its crumbling exterior, the way the mist parts delicately around its form, the tiny skittering life that flits in and out of the grey oak porch. Smear the cobweb caul of the windows, put your palm to it and know its temperature. Know the house. Enter, and shudder at the smell. Sealed air, stale and dense, and something else. A faint sulphuric melody or a buzzy tickle of ozone, the taste leaking in behind your tongue, seeping from your fillings. It is quiet. Photographs on the walls oxidize and fade, their subjects staring back at you through rusted years. They said it was just a house.
Fish the key from your pocket, still moist from the grave soil, the metal gone soft underground, its black tassel wound around your wrist, vibrations of proximity jumping in your grip. It knows it is home. See the cellar door, feel its gaze. Trace the sigil inscribed upon it and feel the hollow writhing thing beyond. Believe the gateway. Use the key. It moves with ease and reveals a terrible heat, a polished stone stairwell, a drifting glow that leads you to the whited sepulcher. The chamber below the house is cavernous, and pale eyed beasts echo from its edges. Grey fingers like swollen worms grasp from the darkness. Do not stray from the path. You know the way to the ritual room.
Open your bag and feed its contents to the void. Fulfill your years of searching. The jeweled chalice. The stained blade. The gilded scale, heavy with earth from the low place. The hangman’s noose. The bell hat of the fool. The heart. Retrieve the coal and begin. Transcribe the ritual phrase on the radiant marbled rock. M: the first shrieks tear from beyond and a steady wind arrives. и: rumbling all around, a fine dust levitates from the ground in a perfect plane. ш: the walls beside you fall away and behind them infinite mirrored realms await. к: his hand guides your hand, the shades of companions lost along the way surround you. а: the word is formed. All things leave you except for the word. It’s deepening image trails in the light as you fall away into embrace. You can see forever. It comes in Grey and Navy.
Мишка
350 Broadway
Brooklyn, NY
718-388-1725
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Мишка LA
1547 Echo Park Ave
Los Angeles, CA
213-536-4234

















