
The Art of Becoming Sacred Matter


∆ Neural Alchemist | Self-mythologist ∆


I made a wish for you
my brown man
ferocious
beastly
Sunset and savory
Made me his baby
Nuzzled in circles under his wing
Where I’d devour his scent
He’d startle
with big ole eyes
Consuming me till full
I would never lie to them
I feel safe
under his wrath
We made love
he made me laugh
I omitted my heart
Slow burn
late bloomer
He’s impatiently patient
An active volcano
We paired together well
You’ve inflicted a wound
down the length of her spine.
Sabotaging the currents
to maintain her movements
give way to the wind.
With the immense distance it provides,
she will carry on.
Her skin sticks and glows a little,
glistens in the sunlight.
She’ll return
and destroy all that you are,
leaving behind
trails of ash and stains
Tongue-tied,
he called me callous
said it was his favorite thing about me
I flinched anyway
I do that when people walk beside me
I’m shying away
I’m begging.
I’m a bit twisted
He bit my back
and called it lovemaking.
It was a short walk
every time
You couldn’t stay
even if you wanted to
Now I carry
hands full of old songs
Our bodies became mounted callous
two heads, three hearts,
drunk and lethal
I’ll bury the paths to my heart in brick
Spear her into the earth
Play pretend with your skin
Bleed raindrops
and lotus flowers
We marinated in muddled portals
A black hole became what we are
What a perspective.


you see
i know how to be
courteous,
a beggar;
believer
a star in the night
holding me
by the door of the music room
what does one do
when sound hums like prophecy
to the rhythm of one’s soul
spoiling all the way home
anointed with myrrh
a finger on the temple
what does one do
by the door of the music room
Gasping for your air
I turn void
I cave in
Absorbed by your flesh
Seeking words of salvation
a cure to the spell
Fatal devotion
I’ll rage without it
Won’t care about anything else