beware the python


a golden hue solicits the eye
into painting the memory with amber shades
backlit silhouettes dance in the horizons between heaven and hell
two-faced angel derelicts fallen back to earth
among some quaint gravitating anomaly that misaligns the equilibrium
thus, heavily sedated (nauseated), the winged cherub-demons crawl upon the earth
searching for the sepulcher that now gives birth only to a grim carcass
moulding and decaying with a stench so putrid it burns the gullet
but is it of that man, that embodiment, that entity, that has-been, never to be again
- existent -

the butcher boy returns in late winter to find etched in stone:
	a vague memory catapulted thru time to the present
	a lost cause of humanity, strung out in thin threads of existence
	a boywonder has-been, ‘dead and gone and damn proud of it’

and the butcher boy falls to his knees
laughs hysterically
feeling with his faint heart
bloodflow minimal
eyes stark white
flesh stained with ash
he turns but nothing can hurt me now
a soul without substance
the girth of inexistence
weighted with a mystical onus
an inherent acumen, crystal and lifelike
shattered in the mirror-image of
inward reflections
a cesspool ebbing and slipping back into place
one last shred of ecstasy
a golden dream
awakened in the purest
pushing forth upon my breast a fearless revenant
arms outstretched in wait of Lethe’s resurgence
Zeus and the queen bee nowhere to be seen
nothing to believe in
i cling to his arm nonetheless
in search of that great holy fire
...the eyes so somber
purely wretched, poor and...
around the permafrost suns rise and set
when time is of the essence
this is my quintessence
a relic of the ancients, a glyph of silhouettes
monolithe and blissful
solitary and wishful
he summons the apparition of her divinity’s
enchantress; the avatari diva doused in silver
ignited with flame and tousled like dirt in a snakepit
a snakecharmer’s worst nightmare...


a great plume of smoke rises from the six-foot trench
summoning the guardians of anamnesis to bear their jaded confidence...
	with a flash of the eye
	a blink of the soul
	the wind erases the amassed dust from my psyche
	their magical scepters raising my ashes from the earth with indescribable speed

the youth and the maiden emerge from a barely noticeable niche of the past
the former seized at the waist by a great serpent
tethered in the midst of wanting
- her -
sobs of fervent heartache, endless need
she winks and slides out of her dress
a menace so naked that she bares her very nature
a disemotional synthetic presence
occupies the core of her breast
throbbing with such agony that it numbs her pain; eases her worry
touches his face but -
shame...
his eyes begin to dry and wither
cannot help but to soak the moisture
of those two sentry eyelids
falling
	falling
		falling
until rock-bottom they hit
cursing the son of time with that momentary blindness
to which all humanity is prone
and with that blink...a streak of teardrops worms its way past his cheek, dropping like
sweat onto the frost beneath
for he knows all too well that she’ll have long-since fled by the time his sight returns

meanwhile, the butcher boy at large
at heart a nymphomaniac, playful and voluptuous
outward the executioner of all things ominous
bright-eyed powerboy with axe in hand
a white butcher’s apron, rather, a red-painted window
dimmed looking glass with which to peer beneath his superficial plane of humanity
a worthless hermit shell of skin and bone
the butcher boy knows
not for what secrets i have told
for as much a mortal he may be, his worldly ways covet a rare breed
an ethereal marrow
that penetrates the skin with an infernal glow

the butcher boy stands
axe perched in hand, fist clenched at his side
blowing kisses to the midnight sun
and i the daughter of the chosen one
at a moment’s arrival, the dawn of a new era in my existence
the end
permanent separation of soul and body (not unlike that of church and state)
such is necessary should he choose to deliver me in this time of great urgency
having aged for so long i can only wish for dreams to mould their mannequin beauty
and expose the truth in the deepest rigors of sin
he looks me in the eye and oh!  i fear
everything
staring through my conscience
spit-white, jet-black, color-blind
it makes up for the indifference

from the blood on his murder garments
to the singed flesh on my heart
he is omniscient

semi-indulgent, i play along with this amorous charade
whispers and humming earlobes
a faded memory of past sentiments
a lover
instantly i shudder at the notion
menace...
naked...
reminiscence never to be faked
floodlights on the wall, fingerlike projections of light shape in the visions in my mind
i watch him mirror
		    my
		         every
			     thought

every few seconds i find myself cringing in fear
for when these eyelids shut instantaneously
involuntarily
there lies the threat of his permanent egress
however slight
thus i fear the limbo
of eternal dissolution
frozen in reality
thus i fear forever

and out of the clouded limelight slips a fervent adolescent along with the aforementioned
- menace -
i am he but to look into her stars, to envision the good in desire
but also to ponder the evil that lurks nearby-and-by
gently avert my eyes, step aside
to speak kind thoughts - ‘perhaps’ - a quiver
in the inane
‘being a god is more fun than being a human’
soundcheck - echoes flaunting
lipflushed...the reply one of teenage whimsy ‘perhaps’
a whisper
in the divine
‘the more humanity depletes natural wonderment from the earth,
	the more we clone - even in ourselves - its beauty,
	the more subtlety we conquer,
the closer to becoming gods we are drawn’
and with that, a laugh, a wink, a smile
oh god, how she stares at me
almost wondering if i know her better than i know myself
open-mouthed - kiss another
tongue to lip and lick to plunder
breathmint liquid
breathe in vivid dense aroma
holidays on soma

‘beware the serpent of youth my sweet, it prowls from the darkest niche of deceit
claws up the spine never to retreat...
desire’s firm grip dared to loosen its hold, frostbitter lips drawn to kiss like the cold
stalwart only years before lovers grow old...’

it’s her my god it’s her again, i thought i’d gasped at the sight of her silver breath
for my lungs had been famished with the airs of her death...
my mouth had been damned by the milk of her breast...
how could i fall in love with a heart so grotesque?

snap into action - shut the mouth that speaks this wrath
stop this noise, the air shall lack
the awful sound of emptiness
god, don’t stare at me like that
you know myself as poorly as i do
the deeper i dive the more i realize
	i’m lost
for the deeper you pry the more i believe
	in your lost cause

shut the mouth - stop the noise
a fire-breathing ghoul
don’t you see how you’ve already exhausted your inner fuel?
fury is weak, worry is ruthless
time kills everything, repentance is useless

as foolish as devotion
zig-zagged, drugged with disemotion
i am the god of wanting everything i can never have
for perfection ails
these dank entrails
with her beauty unsurpassed

the boy has grown into a man
		      into never coming home again

arctic frost come hither; wrap the fingers of indifference around the gullet of thee
- i must no longer be a part of her mercurial wisdom -
take my hand and use it to lock this rigid soul in an impenetrable mass of crystal time
frozen forever beautiful in this very moment
i shall wave goodbye with a mournful but unwavering mien

‘i shall never flinch in her presence so help me long as i do exist on this planet earth, on
this day and hour in my natural cycle of awakening, nor shall i dare dream of this
unrelenting urge to kiss and hold and touch the menace of my self; the mirror-image of
my reflection backlit by the autumn sunset, golden hues imbued with the greyish tint of
apathy, never am i to behold this dreadful countenance again for it hath brought me only
the doleful state of gloom, temporal in retrospect, yet permanent in design; i shall mark
this very soil with fair warning for all to heed, the emblem of the python by which i spurn
thee, this to symbolize my abhorrence and disinheritance of thine own love and warmth,
however forbearing and consoling it may have appeared, being in a time of great personal
need, for its true inner child lies in the fury, despair, and wrath of hell itself...’

i bury thee in the dirt
i bury thee with the worms
dry mine own tears of sorrow
and pertinent lament on this very gravestone
blessed by the gods in my heart
to lay waste this kingdom, this shrine of despondency
this epitome of chaos and torture
the grey i once harbored is now exposed
as the earth turns for yet another change in season
made summer from winter, made spring from autumn, made acumen from reason
i have chosen the path to mending rather than ending
to right all the wrongs my soul has been pining for

and the butcher boy at my side
- i swore i saw a tear fall from the sky -
fading into the light
- though it may well have been a drop of blood from his axe -
i turn and watch the sun rise with great urgency
as the colors in my soul shift from grey to white
i am pure
i am divine
i am a saint
as a golden hue solicits the autumn to fade




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