1. She convulses in and out of form: she is the pool primordial, the screaming monkey brain, a pandemic of perversion. she is a butterfly...a butterfly of crystal sunlight, trapped in amber of mockery. she is like a cat in the dark. she is the relentless rasping of the myriad acid-sandpaper tongues of the flea-infested and insane rabbits licking from my sabotaged skull the dust of existence that remains in the wake of her merciless machines. but i trust in the muse, as a child; with eyes of universes, i trust. i unfold as a vast, batiked sail, her blessings pool in the fine fabric as a leaf collects dew, as the pond collects rain. she ERUPTS in eyes of artillery, with hands of scalpels and broken glass, she plunges into me, clawing her way through many facades until she reaches the darkness at my core...and...under her touch, a great skin...ancient and putrifying...SHATTERS and falls from me in a cloud of mold and spores...a process perpetual...
Posted on: Tue, 20 Aug 2013 18:04:55 +0000
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