Friday, February 24, 2017

let magick be a potential, a keepsake
let magick be tiny. let me find power in smallness, in non-giving, in a sense.
let me shrink to naivety so this will not come back to me.

let this be the part of me that feels good to let out
as it all gets muddied and confounded in secrecy-
sacred fire that gets sick of me denying its rights, so
spontaneously possessing me
until i release it
and wildfire is the world.

forgiving again
once it's banished, my bared feet understanding the earth
let me believe all fire justified
just for now; this being
the aspect with pistols and perfect tits, who i salute
when i wear all black- one could say

i'm a trick that's been turned.

that girl is the only friend that counts
and she lives in caves
and is in love with nihilism, if that makes sense,
resists persuasion, does not read, does not
get shy, admits fucking makes people look stupid, only eats dirt

has never spoken a word
has never looked at the stars.
is she crow? well, she looks human, to me. perhaps

humans will morph in the future
as humans have been morphed before.
i am under her wing
when i'm with her, you are intimidated by us both
raping your dreams

the ones you wake up blocking out, or interpreting
to exhaustive, or declaring
you've just experienced nightmare.

this is the girl
born of that boy
that boy who was the boy who taught her
though, missed out on me
and i was kind enough
to let him get away with his crimes, his forgetting me
and all,

raping my dreams, which we must have
to acknowledge fire.

stay vehicular, shielded