Sex Resurrection

It felt oddly natural

that the wolf

would awaken

the phoenix from her slumber

with his haunted howl.

Earth to fire

back to earth,

we stumble through

our parts,

our characters,

our elements

always changing with the weather.

Sex resurrection,

obscene holy,

profane miracles,

my magic trick

was to see inside the mirror’s reflection

and understand its ethereal alchemy

though the experience was dumbed down

with useless language
that never explained exactly
what I'd seen,

and the pathetic cycle
of forcing myself 

to either

speed up or

slow down

my brain’s circuits

to fit the crowd,

cause I was expected

to still pay rent right?

Still having to chat with neighbors,

talk about work and war,

go to parties and be scintillating,

still having to rage on government spending,
argue that Black Lives DO Matter,

fight misogynistic assholes about

payoffs to set

rapists free

so they can go back to making America

a proud sporting nation.

What?

What did you want me to say?

I ate my organic grapefruit

for breakfast,

worked towards the picket fence dream

that wasn’t mine,

kissed the wife,

exercised for 30 min,

fed the kids,

went to bed,

repeat,

when what I really did

was wake up

an hour after I was supposed

to be somewhere

with a headache I tried to ignore,

washed my

anti-psychotic meds

down with the

leftover glass of wine

from the night before,

ate a peppermint patty

as I threw on

the clothes that were

on the floor

closest to my bed,

stumbled out the door,

lied through the days with

“Im fine.”

“It’s fabulous,”

all the while thinking:

Act Normal,

God please

let my fake normal

again today

because really

Im a walking hurricane

and I just miss my family

and want to go to a home

that Im forgetting.

Even so,

I kept pulling

the Tower

over and over:

the tarot will

yell at you

until you hear her.

So I saw the beginning of the crumble

of all the boring social “norms”

and the birth

of the wild and peculiar,

we are falling from the sky above and

rising from the ground below.

Careful now,

for we are coming.

Fire Mouth

I decided today

not to be the punch line

of my own jokes anymore,

enough already,

haunted by

violence poured down me,

I writhed in

snake skin,

coughed up

glass shards and snails,

train tracks, and

the bannisters of haunted houses.

Was that your ghost

leaning on the doorframe

sharpening your teeth

with a handsaw?

You grin like

some wild thing

hunkering down in the wet grass

ready for the killing.

But I am one of those

that can look at you,

Dead face,

and take your language

into my mouth,

fire breaths

to mold your ice words

into hot visions,

supple flow, glow, and ebb,

madness profound

and exceptional.

I stopped in mid-thought,

mid-sentence,

to hear your wanting

before it’s spoken.

The body shows desire

through the bones

and the subtle moves of the soul

before the consciousness

even knows the desire-

the boy lies

but the body

will be heard

if one listens for the rhapsody

for we are all made of music

and trembling.

Teeth Clench

Teeth clench,

smile,

vomit,

smile.

I ate spiders

and sucked out

the blood of the

hounds birthed

in that grit hell

Im still chained to,

twitching between

empathy and apathy.

Look,

I know

nothing is forever

but our stardust,

and I do

see the light

even from the

water well

in which I cling to.

I am aware the exquisite exists

and I delight

in the day

when I can

but I twisted more towards

the macabre

and completely

fucking insane-

I fell too far

down the rabbit hole

and no one dared follow.

The sorrow

has changed me

into something

I do not know,

the mirror

warps my image

into a moaning ghost

that fades in and out

with the music

that beats loud below.

Holy Witch

Did the clock

strike twelve

as it counted

backwards from heaven

to earth?

I felt the elementals

and their magic

fall into my head

and surround me

leaving whispering visions

in my ears,

thoughts of the

savage and strange,

horror and revolution,

gore and glory,

haunted by angels

in my sleep,

and as the daytime

fell on its face,

I left my body

for the astral plane

to re-awaken

the holy curse

of the witch.

The Metronome's Drunk Again

Was it you

that I saw

swinging high

outside my window?

A sick carousal,

a drunk metronome,

we ride together

the ferris wheel

of the psychic psychotic 

and the damned,

and I felt myself

slipping back into

the undercurrent

as the soft tongued humans

hushed my words

with silver linings

and half truths

that ended up

being whole lies

which was no surprise to me,

cynical fuck that I am,

ha ha.

Drama drama drama,

getting rich,

getting pretty,

getting popular,

where were

the wild ones

getting free?

I felt like I had

lost them in the hurricane

that swept over my house

with a scream.

And in between the

grocery lists and apathy,

I picked out mangos

and thought of Lacan’s idea

of the Big Other,

the Big Brother,

a cultural system of rules

that chains us to

its fucked up version of morality:
but I shrugged off the thought,

self censorship

at its best,

feeling too deep,

too dark,

and way to “out there”

as you would say,

so I went back

to counting facebook likes,

rolling my eyes,

clenching my teeth,

buying too much Nyquil,

and listening to my roommate

throwing his mind up

after drinking himself stupid.

But maybe

things weren’t all bad,

there are still

hats with fancy feathers

sticking out of them,

having mashed potatoes

for dinner because you feel like it,

finding an easy parking spot

when your 10 minutes late,

watching re-runs of Murder She Wrote

when insomnia hits again,

poems by old souls,

remembering you’ve got

ice cream in the freezer,

Bob Dylan and Tom Waits on vinyl,

shirts that make your boobs look sensational,

a kind message from an old friend

almost forgotten,

a sexy whisper and a kiss,

a secret shared,

a fire lighting

up life again

with a glow.