Witch Myth

As I lit my own way

through the darkness,

the forest closing in,

trees speaking in tongues,

ancient tantric vowls,

whispers of vengeance

and loving passion,

so deep,

swept like wind

through the rain,

claiming her in the twilight,

legs apart,

cumming into

the sunrise,

lift her up,

and into that forgotten

space of shadows and spice.

But then

in a quick moment,

that went unnoticed by most,

there was a reality shift,

a quick change

in the dressing room of

my favorite transvestite.

Flashes and liquor

and smoking ashes,

mirrors sparkled

back and talked to us

of the future and

prophesized in the form of erotica.

Damn you,

I can clearly see your broken soul,

left to wander round and waltz

back and forth in your bones,

aching and sorrowful.

I just wanted to

warm your dark nights

with the blues

and tales of cathedral lightning,

soft caresses,

tenderness and

sleep walking,

fucking in the morning,

cold breezes through the window,

tears of joy.

Your absurdity

astounds me,

witch mything me to hell and

early graves.

no offense but

fuck you.
Drink your poison,

and I shall drink mine deary,

you weary and wrenching

in your small mind,

closed and only fading in the light,

then sweet and sour,

bitter tones to

pulsing ethers,

rising up into

the celestial sphere,

and laying my head

down to sleep,

rattlesnake requiems

lull me on

to the eternal illumination.

I shall be a phoenix soon

to burn and fuck and burst and die,

and then with heaving and great shaking

am reborn.