Sin, She Stirs

Chaos. Solace. Amusement. Murder. Justice. Transformation.

Sextet transcribed water-coloured pastel portrait.

I must be going through the motions
Putrid in the depths of my mind

Reminiscing sevenfold vengeance
Musing will-o’-the-wisps passing as infatuation,
Vomit surges.

Veritable essence,
“When you gaze long into an abyss,
The abyss gazes also into you”

And all are insignificant pinpricks of galaxies and revolving stars
Penetrating the darkness,

The serpent stirs.

Soul Psychedelia

Daredevil sparks, sociopathic indigo fizzing from my extraterrestrial, non-temporal bionic fingers
I am all colours outside your crazy-train spectrum
swirling and twisted, Azkaban demented
beyond borderline black and white
floating transcendent; chimerical dual existence

So fuck with me hard, I don’t care
because I will fuck back harder than your most suicidal night terrors
and all that remains is one empty psychedelic trip, compliments of Asmodeus
even ISIS will cower in awe –

Electric kool-aid my soul,
soil, dirt, muck, existential filth of choice
spoiled and split within your materiality,
tripping so hard within your wanton psychology
beyond basic functionality

I am the fucking queen bee
play with me, I dare.


Tenebrific, serpentine negation
Vacant presence, eidolon deception
Senseless, desolate, voiding perception
Presence itself is nought but space lay bare
Limboid, non-Baryonic energy, ninety-five percent primality
We are naught, o’ veritably
Isolation perturbs relation between my own cellular connection
How then is there yearning for chemical affection with evanescent ‘other’,
When other perturbs all that is not?

Do Not Resuscitate

In the silence, I breathe
Short, shallow, superficial puffs of air
Evanescing most of my Seelie sentiments
Whimsy with violet Michaelmas daisies
In the torrid climate-changed winters

The bubbles of ripened vine seeps through my veins
Embolism, asphyxiation
Drowning endlessly in the shade of my vital essence
Tattooed startlingly on my sweat glistened chest
The Great Healer ignoring all my pleas

“Father, Father, why have you forsaken me?”
The splinters of blood-soaked ‘thorn pierce deep within my shattered soul
Where is this eternal fortitude
Buried deep within our Mother’s womb,
Within her infinite watery oceans?

Suffocation, within the stratification of my own pressures
Bring me to, gasping, yawning for consciousness
From my waking night-terrors
And the shifting tectonic plates of my own reality
Move upon me mysteriously, once again.


Glaciated, encapsulated lough, Pleistocene-style
Subaqueous volcanic eruption fallow, anticipating
Traipse right all over me, I defy thee
Let thy rapturous rifts appear, and my slag and bile will mingle with your foul blood spilled and spit
Blood of penitence, spit consumed with perfidious absence
Have you met my most esteemed Ragnar? Warrior of judgement, antithesis, your Nemesis, fucking retribution
His steel glares fiercely as I slash your yarn and fancy away from my abrupt perspicuity
And you liquefy into the basalt and inundate the ocean’s clunge as sediment
Fossilised, bygone and vacant.

A Soliloquy of Completion

How should I immortalise my sentiments? For the smouldering passion deep within my heart, compels me forward into the vision of a great fortune I knew not to be possible. When the entire world has always been against you, how can you reason that which is for you?

You. You came into my life, three lucky years ago, during a time when I was in sharp, unhinged pieces. My heart, my soul, even my prostrate body, splintered by the trauma and near death experience of purgatory. Demons, now my companions, once against me, shattering all illusions of whom I thought I was. My adversaries, my greatest guides under the cover of night. The darkness, a cesspit of deathly lesions, of disease and shamanic probations, which was the initiation of my crucified salvation. And, the ingress of you.

For without you there would be no darkness, and without that brilliant darkness there would be no you. And yet through the chimera of dread that pierces the ghostly reflection in the starry space enveloping me, there is nought but stillness and silence. A peace beyond all pieces. A love beyond all tormenting terrors.

The devil taught me love and then she brought me you. For by stripping me of all I was not, I became the you whom was always meant for me. And even when the ire and rancour of my previous life slit deep, the slashes of the razor into my fleshy soul and the corresponding sultry, sticky, scarlet blood oozing out my very sanity… Something timeless echoed in the ether and aroused you. And without this very eruption, again, we would not be.

I am one person in many, and many persons in one, and we are who materialises when you gaze at the great cosmic mirror. For our souls were once free of Maya’s mirage of estrangement too. For we are just remnants of some greater creature which crashed through the atmosphere of earth’s melody and rendered us alienated. And we have been pursuing the other since, for that completeness, for that knowing of intimate wholeness of togetherness.

When I am with you, I am. Everything within me slows, the ticking of the clock hand stops, and all that I am, truly, is. Because in you, I find myself. In you I find my completion.

Love is one of those peculiar, sublime things. We pine with all the vitality inside ourselves for that estranged expression, eventually losing credence that this idyllic redemption could ever be a reality. And yet once we hit rock bottom in our despondency, Mother Nature has that uncanny way of startling us with our gravely resurrected hope. That hope of reconnection, that hope of reunion with otherness, that hope of osmosis through the sublimate threads of temporal infinity.

You, my guardian, have accorded me all that I am, through your love, through your presence, through your very self. For you are whom I had silently been craving and yet known it not. Because through you I have been metamorphosed like a phoenix rising from the ashes. I was incinerated, illuminating the heavens in dazzling cataclysmic flames, and yet in my renascence you were borne through me. For now I am no longer myself, nor all the shivers and shards that make up my fissioned identity, but I am you, who has become me.

I was once intimidated by genuine tenderness, and yet oblivious I was to it. Timorous for rejection, my fundamental affliction for this lifetime, perhaps a multitude of lifetimes, I know not. My breast was so empty, desolate with forsaken covenants by havering lovers. Vacant with jaded confidence, yet I continued to go through the motions, to hold on, to cling onto life somewhere deep within. And I am gratified by my fortitude, because that watery, uterine potentiality was all this time waiting for you, longing and yearning for absorption and dissolution into this one truth: You.

There are many goodly persons whom proffer themselves into our accursed lot, and some you may opine to finally reach the heights of paradise with. But then, one day, your entire paracosm spirals about you, whether down or up I cannot say, for the below becomes the above and the above becomes the below as the world degenerates around us in rapture of the second coming, and we lose sensibility of who we are, for all that is, in a flurry of otherworldly, maddening mewls and resounding murmurs.

What I am meaning to express is thusly such: Many times I have attempted to cure my soul’s ineffaceable septicaemia, in seclusion and also by aid of others whom I believed to have adulated me in my entirety of ecstatic dualities. Yet I grotesquely miscarried my aspirations each and every time. And why should this come to be that finally, finally, when I behold the remedy, the philtre to rehabilitate all afflictions, to restore my fractured soul, it is but the very essence of your own virility that has melded and fit perfectly into that expectant aperture as if by some stunning enchantment?

Love. It is not solely frivolous sentiment or purposeful selection, but it is when you find that other half of you, and become whole, truly, within and without, as if never you’d been apart. For the gods may have punished us with the handicap of separation, but they have also blessed us again with the exultation of restitution. I did not envisage there to be one special person awaiting me, until I bequeathed my love unto you. And I did not become complete until I withdrew the disquiet of being unlovable from my heart.

This is a soliloquy, a silent serenade from the medium of our soul which is mine unto yours. Let nature not be so cruel as to again punish us for our error of our corporeal limitations. Let us ascend beyond ourselves with the only thing which matters, that of love for the greater whole. For as we coalesce within ourselves, who we are then becomes the microcosm of the infinite macrocosm surrounding us.

You have reconciled me with my wound most profound, such as has plagued me since my emergence into this world when my father abdicated my desirability. By all means, I dedicated myself to the Work, through psychic conflagration and viscous, soulish haemorrhage. But without you, such miracle could not be. Because you were that missing puzzle piece. It matters not through vanity I could have continued aimlessly attending my endeavour, I would not have flourished, because you, you were the remedy. You are my remedy. And you are my salvation. Thus without you, I am not me.

You have said that your perfection is a result of your extension of me. Now I say my own is a result of the reconnection of my extension of you. In romance I assert this certainty, remote though we may be, you are I, and I am you. We are that, we are – one.

And now may I drink from your chalice of sweet panacea for the rest of my days, be they ephemeral or sempiternal. But for as long as I gayly and greedily gulp of your golden ambrosia, I shall become immortalised within your love. For you, you are that breath I breathe, and that life which truly sustains.

The Cuckoo’s Nest

Silky, seductive amnesiac silhouette
I query the oracular waters of myself and me: Who in Jezebel’s name are we?
The floodgates of prudence are rendered sunder and with them hath come the ardour of a bygone age
Asherah, the sacred mother of whores, gazes at me fondly from the altar of nuptial consummation
Urging gnosis, urging initiation into nature’s venereal enigma

Mountainous breasts perch naked in all their earthy glory
With twin peaks firmly erect in their idolatrous high places, embellished in offerings of enticing jewels
I splay my thighs open wide, and lay bare the gold mine of my wombic soul until she sees the puckering cavernous cherry
Taste the primordial starlight, my darling, lap up the spiked nectar which sweetly drips for you, in his name
Ecstaticise me as I suffer, breathily, and whimper, “Daddy”
And there is nought but combustion and convulsive fury in the wake of a little death

Pandoric nympholepsy and semen smeared conquest
For this moment we are coalesced in salacity, my desperation compelling me to throw away self identification for his admiration, his adulation
And this I am already become
His nothing, and his everything

And an erotic goddess emerges from some phrenic nebular corner
Watch me Daddy as I am consumed by the Succubi in three, two, one:
Can you see?
My vulnerability is yours, your objectification my necessitous alibi
Use me, overcome me, have me worship at your feet in this sapphic frenzy
That you would know, I am your soul-slave, completely
And you are whom I live to exalt:
My carnal, exquisite King.

Where is the Princess?

She takes cover
Her face veiled by shadow
She laments betrayal
Through endless persecution

Let me sweep your widow’s weeds aside
Let me see the moonshine glimmering beneath your bitter eyes
Let me once again summon integrity
Destiny, for us.

Glory be, she rouses subtly when I evoke her name
Glory be, she no longer drowns in distress when I enter her space
She squints at the startling beam of light, unaccustomed
My fingers gently brush her terror-struck guise aside
She glimpses hope, she spies a tower of gay delight
Which once only belonged in dreams of her fiery pride

Oh holy abundance, indulgence
Tortured, maddening, frenzied co-dependence
Nephilimic fury
Warrior-like necessity
You kept me shielded against the elements

“You know I know”, love
Serendipitous renaissance
Regal metempsychosis
Welcome return, exalted one
My Queen, my blood, my precious.

Avow Me; Yours

Aching limbs and heavy bones
Silent inflammation from bygone burdens which incessantly wear me down;
Yet I shall never give in
Though the anguish, though the affliction endures and will remain throughout the ages
I will contain my strength within
Through whatever hurdles life throws my way

And maybe we were kin in some other aeon
Maybe you were my fortress when that projectile tore apart every limb from my body
And the adulation I feel so deeply for you is my way of reciprocating that redemption
That recognition which survives in our souls and wanes not

Did you know? I am unsettled in my stride
My footsteps pace hesitantly forward, yet trusting lambency resides at the end of this underground
I say, you are remarkable in a way I cannot fathom
Discourse cannot always articulate but childlike reenactments can transform
And illuminate virulent tenebrosity

Let me tenderly repatriate the serrated shards that adorn your shell
That I may find my own sheltered asylum deep within
And feel finally like I belong
With you

Come soar amongst the heavens, with eagle-like urgency
Come find me, that I may be yours
That my skin may know the scintillating brush of your fingertips
That your eyes would penetrate me
And undo me utterly in only a way you would know
That our flesh would sublimate into the quintessence of each other
That we would lose ourselves in this ubiquitous truth

I wish to express so bad that I am in love with you
And I know it’s madness, so swiftly, so suddenly
But I know it with the certitude that the earth revolves around the sun
Like your brilliant sun which is fulfilled by my capricious moon
May we then commence on our orbits
And be steadied in the wonder of this Saturnian infinitude

Encapsulate me, covet me, voraciously
And consummate me as black holes are swallowed whole by supernovae
That vein of reverence within my fourth finger courses with some yet amorphous resonance
And my arteries balloon into my waiting myocardium, swelling with anticipation
Waiting for this fated conception

Avow me,
Let me be yours.