so rghayati and I just back-and-forthed some novakcest dialogue for early season five. in iambic pentameter.
(he was jacob. I was jimmy.)
I know your body’s still un-uttered plea
but brother, you’re confusing this request
by Heaven for the penance of your need
to take to bed the kin of your own fl—
Oh Jacob, if you must have air to speak
would not that air be better off employed
to solve the case that forced us both to seek
this rotting, soggy town in Illinois?
I’m saying, there’s an angel in the room—
the elephant of which you dare not speak—
and every tempted witch or shifted tomb
we’ve ever known is low, and frail, and weak
within the shadow of this wing-borne doom
that cherishes your body as unique.
But let us not forget, oh brother mine
that like as we two are, so is this fate
to have our bodies filled with light divine
and rode to wipe the earth an empty slate.
While these grand aspects you would put to voice
of symmetry, along a burning line,
I say you do not understand the choice.
We burn! Now say: Infernal or Divine.
I say the time will come too soon for us
to choose, so why this urge to draw it near?
We may be doomed, as you so firmly trust
but in the meantime, there’s a monster here.