dutchman (ex_astrophi) wrote in season_in_hell,

  • Music:

sleep of the chaste

Should the box be opened, where reeking shadows slobber
for the chance to be thrown at butterflies?


Or…should we forget? Yes,
the determined snares: appearing, vanishing
eyelashes drumming the beat
while the shy monstrosity-colonized!-danced.

Good, but not nimble, not good enough, the intern Monarch graded.

Should we step out to say aloud:
Honesty blinds! Honesty castrates!
Honesty blinds! Honesty annihilates!
and rescue the dismembered torso
tuned stumps singing of those
who would make us ashamed
of our skein of normal earth?

Closer! Let’s listen:

“Who is the true flagellant, the real charred devil? I,
or you who beat me with your sticks
‘til I denounced a way of being
in the style of ancients
as old as extinct beasts
sawed my body from my spirit
made a caste in your own timid image?”

You there! Drawing back!
Innoculating yourself with amnesia!
Remember when you were just a hopeful grub?
From now on you’ll drink water from tedious blossoms
balance on broken stalks
-this, judgment of a tossed shadow.

Having been washed in the body’s heat, the soul’s light
the sky cannot tame or sully it.
But these are old and sad songs.
A need to unearth relics is ruinous
-we choke on delirious delicacies.

Now, we’ll shake the bones!
Roll them, crack them open…

“Feed me flesh, soul, in balanced mystique,” it said.

Who spoke?
I thought I was the only one here.
Was it you, nothingness,
in your dark, unpainted room?
Yes. I believe so.
The open-throated euphoria of your tongue
loosens my hair too early in the day…

Silence! Distance! Take my hand! Hide me!

“Vigil, moving more like a compass than starlight, when?”

Out of the light they come, half-insect, half-priestess
to lap up the jumping blood of nightmares.
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