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.

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