Cocaine – that all night porch light. The Usual suspects licking the shadows like waxy moths. Sly dogs howling in moonlight. Phantoms sucking light bulbs. Numb vulgarity hijacked and backstabbed. Leather clit split is a slit wrist. She lets you in so you spit on her tits. Smeared makeup greases the machinery. She’s molten within. A place that never ages. All due respect when the pond is dredged. Crawling life slithers for cover. Been caught scuttling. Hard driving needles of pain and a psyche maimed on the short list to fame.
If you’ve got a habit, I’m a bad person to have around. I’m always down. If there’s a bag in your pocket, I’m getting one too and we’re going to have a right old time. I’ll shovel white shit up my face all day. All night. Suck a blackened light bulb clean.
You see this, this is yours, for a nominal fee. Now load your ice pipe and we’ll talk all night. I always knew we’d get on well. Let me walk you through hell. I’ve been there. I keep my hands warm and my mind frosty. Old times sake.
Then… anti-tragedy failed to strike. The wheels fell off under load. I sheered the bolts and spat chunks of circuitry. The machine, soft and beautiful, holding me in a chrysalis of scorched metal, gave and forgave me sin. Soft kisses and a howling Jinn slides up the drainpipe behind my spine. Shadows climbing in. They lick the pupil of my mind’s eye. Narcotic beasts shiver on doorsteps. A hot, wet breeze whispers a new schematic to sin. I welcomed the intruder. Sent an invite by dead dove.
The goddess came to me as a divine centrifuge of folly. Thou art disbelieve. Her message concealed. I chased my shadow down, tackled it and fucked it inside out. It swirled into a great, sucking tornado and swallowed my original skin. Snake within snake within snake, all slithering in opposing friction. Each layer become numb with heightened sensitivity. The volume is all the way up so you can barely hear it in the deafness of diffusion. So insane that I grew straight. Racked on the wheel – a polygamist of perception. Spinning. Spinning. Spinning.
That was it. The complete degeneration and putrefaction of everything in my mind, body and soul. I’ve collapsed from within. Charred beams like snapped ribs against a cloud of red ash. Everything drops out and I grind my lose teeth til their remnants fall from the sockets. My life is a bloated corpse floating belly-up in the river of time.
That’s not to say that there hasn’t been something completely new taking shape beneath all of this death. Somewhere, buried in that moist fertility, there’s been the seed of a new life germinating. Our son was born. The sun was born. Its harsh daylight cut away all the shadows. All the festering life encroaching at the periphery of being laid bare. A hot white sword of justice has cleaved the old husk from a new fruit. It rose to the bud and cauterised the wound. She’s blind when she blooms.
What opens here is a lotus, bursting with goodness, purity and sight. The watch tower sparks the beacon. Gather those who are as we, with ideals calibrated to the divine centrifuge. Our family has staked claim within this wilderness since inception. Timeless blood passed from father to father to father. Stamp reality with our crest. Her mark upon our breast. Sup at my table. Sit across from me. Look me in the eye and let me see. What is young is the next. What is young is rebuilt and the older calibrated upon its new design. What is dead is not buried, but laid to the howling gale. Be this the eye of the storm? Or is that red slit dawn?