Mind games

Forget me not fantasy,
the deep continues to echo
as I slip further inside
the waking cosmos.

I trip out the monster,
he sees me as his own reflection
in that some spoken mirror.
Taint me again,
I don't mind due to
the warmth of my skin
and my voice stretching
into the ethers and the hallways
of the Hierophants
who are only angels in the sunlight.

But every night
twilight came with a snide remark
and we change into
our dark creatures,
licking and fucking,
magic making with our voodoo
heroin puppet strings.
I ache to taste anew.
The moon agrees to carry me home
when I cannot stand up
straight or holy.
I'm closer than you think.

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