What is this shit that makes us twist and miss the chances
of change to derange our fantastical little brains into unholy alliances with goblin-like demons? Why do I look out at this sorry place of disgrace and see
nothing but sad-faced hate and unrelenting fate? Why does the fearsome force of
Poseidon suddenly descend upon us and mirror the internal flagrant ruckus that
bucks us in the mutt? May I one day fray and come buckling down the eons with
glasses for the ray? Shall I undergo this horrific life-process and emerge
ancient and unrepentant? Will I redeem the horrors of this soul-crushing day by
releasing the sorrows of this wicked play to play in the dandelion-studded
cerulean glades? Heaven, will you take my plea and please clean this residue of
selfish genes? Hell, underneath, have I requested an audience with your thief
to sign by blood usurped from its garlands and spend eternities writhing
unknowingly? Have we any more nail-biting facades to charm our child with? Have
you any more inner sources from whence to draw water out of wine for us? Are we
here to endlessly spin this wheel or shatter it? Can you feel this fiery freeze
inside my darkest chest unpinning the solitary from its quest? Can you not see
how miserably I am squirming within my own naked breast? Will I whither under
this willow and receive her curative spirit or wallow for another two decades
of pain?

I am brought to the basest base in my heart, fraught with
the darkening veils of peril, undergoing hideous demonstrations and alchemy,
window-panes variously shuttering and unfettering me, a bulletproof gazing
space taunting yet never leaving me, the chisel imploring yet crumbling to
ashes at mere touch, my head hammering the harder for its scattering, my staff
shivering like rattle-tails, my tale growing darker with every intensifying
ray. This scarce resource I pull out of the ether threatens depletion. The
force of my heart’s yearning wavers and teeters. The hidden hands tremble and disassemble.
The dark time undulates back across the horizon. The mellow days are here to
disavow us. The yellow tides are dear yet have abandoned us. This horror I fear
is just for my consumption, and I shall be spit out of God’s gut dismantled.

Earth, digest me! Sun, divest me! God, direct me!