this is another conversation with one of my apocalypse monsters in the mirror ...

Help you with what ... I ask ...

Your sliding between some boundless 
ancient unnameable/unknowable being 
you have in your mind 
and some post apocalyptic abused child 
who has grown fangs 
in the guise of butterfly wings, 
walls and a sturdy disregard 
for the noise of modern society ... 

I may look and play the fool 
to gain sight and footing ... 
but rest assured I do so voluntarily ... 
you can be dangerously flippant and mean 
and while I think you know 
that I don't give my allegiance lightly 
you are still testing the bounds 
and limits of that as we speak ... 

your psychic forays and little incursions ... 
please don't push yourself on everything 
because you can, 
push yourself because the universe demands 
that of you in the moment ... Period! ... 

And that we can help anyone with ... 
with the exception of you or I ... 
this is the price of our soul ... 
which we must accept despite the pains 
and barbs that sometimes grow 
along side that equation 
predicating life through 
these currents of bones 
their calendars and time ...

monster says I have a small suggestion in the mean time

build something
something you might 
like to admire 
in its sum 
a sculpture perhaps
fashion it 
out of found 
in your life materials 
then assign meaning 
to each material 
collected ...

especially the things 
that anger and frighten you 
paint the memory 
you have associated 
with each thing 
onto this piece 
then destroy this embodied piece  
in ritualized sharp assertions 
stab hiving burning 
may you have a glowed upon face 
womb Winter cackling warm skin 
and watch the ashes climb
stop asking questions 
of how 
evil got in ...

 ( hint it was inside you 
from the beginning and Eve 
wasn't weak and Lilith 
was more right than God ) 

let your oldest pieces of you die 

(hint they'll come back soon and younger/refreshed)

breathe

 just fucking breathe 

and for the sadistic 
literal-ist you've become 
think of burning man 
and why we do the things we do 
to confound those that dare try 
and take to place 
where we 
might feel 
at home 
with ourselves 
rousing rendition 
tender to old 
turtle pray to prey 
and what can 
hold us 
under shell 
or not so 
feeling raw 
and exposed 


EJR ©