Hell and its delusions
scattered like brain waves,
I crossed the paths of
ravaged souls
and saw the twilight yawn,
shuffle off to bed
with vertigo and a raven's head,
twisted on a chain around her neck,
still breathing through its mouth,
glowing eyes hissing back at her.
Could you understand
the devil's call,
bones quaking in their sleep,
cold and fuck and rubber rain
driving you home after breakfast
and never calling you back.
Growing angels,
drenched in their own heroin,
sneezing diesel fuel and contraceptives,
leaning me back against
the brick wall on a Saturday night,
moaning the words of mouth brethren
and yearning,
jouissance and the paradigm shift,
ghosts in the courtyard,
lace and luxury,
lies and forgotten blood,
spilled in the hallway where you
fell when you were six.
Howl with delight
to unclaimed perception,
the lightning recoiling
as quickly as it struck the river,
bliss in an instant,
sunshine in the valley,
the fire burns through
the morning hours,
forgetting to go to bed,
laughing at the sight of man
and his fake power over nature.
Walking dreams
showed me the light
in the darkest places.
The shadows uplifted through space,
scattered whispers echo,
a faint sound reflecting
off the rooftops of my town,
falling asleep in your arms
and praying to wake up
a different person in the morning.
