magneticecho

grasp the infernal madness of the universe with your right eye and tell it you love it with your left; everything undone in the cosmos can be strung into song in your mouth or swallowed as treasure by a thief -- do you show it to the sun or keep it from the moon? nothing can stop you from ruining the glimpses of god you're given except the impossible wall of guilt you hit when you meet his gaze. your obstruction is handlessness, your opera is objectivity. sigh, artist. every obscurity is a piece of you that you couldn't catch. even your shadows are shapes we understand. pity. it was a better idea when you didn't know what it was.

a wolf approaches from beneath me, eight teeth bared, one hidden -- long tongue trailing up legs - spine - stomach - neck static breaking on the shore of my skin and he tells me something i don't want to know again and again and again until the ninth tooth appears in my mouth and i rise up to feed it to someone else

wide-eyed and unblinking in your holiness oh, you realize god is an iris aflame you can't look away from the light pouring in for the eternal instant of sensing how small you are against a single flare of a star sweet incendiary son with a spark so loud to you but silent in any space greater than your solipsism you pray to be held in a familiar glow but the fire of your father only expels

insane with awfulness -- feral with vile feeling and overtaken like a carcass by rot, each maggot a crisis

a strange little demon rattling my ribcage he wretches, he writhes -- DON'T TELL THEM ABOUT ME DON'T TELL THEM DON'T embarrassed, afraid that everyone can see him right through my body they see you, tiny tormenter; ghosts don't make good hiding places and now you're stuck here like i'm stuck everywhere. i learned when i lived: for those who weren't meant to walk the earth, possession is self-prison

I arrive at a feeling: GUILT! GUILT! GUILT! nausea so thick, my head could roll right off my neck; from my stomach comes a scream, "THERE'S SOMETHING WRONG IN THE DEPTHS OF ME AND I NEED TO PUKE IT FREE" I stumble in the blur like a three-legged beetle and wait to cough up a black, writhing evil but all that comes out of my big black hole mouth is a terrified mouse

hundreds of eyes instead of a human body: i see, i see, this is all i'll ever be blinking rapidly, crying, crying, staring directly into the sun, blinding them one by one

engulfed in flames eternally so you'll never know what the skin i was born with looks like -- only how it melts away in the glory of the death i chose

i can no longer be uncertain: there is a serpent in the garden as surely as i've begged for pardon but god doesn't plead, he scorches the weeds -- he smiles upon the lambs that bleed for him and his Elysian creed -- he bruises children's hands & knees tangled in mother's blessed beads -- he orders fathers to cut down trees born from their own seed. here i am - a vile & hideous thing: an animal born with a missing limb taunting holy fire in my mortal sin. there you are - a free, unjudged thing: a bird without its brother wing, a prophet with no song to sing. no shame nor pride for us now: just the light of long-dead stars -- come with me &

every thought i have is sharp enough to spill your guts is it any wonder why i cry blood?