mahakali

three days now in the midst of kali/throes, spasms,
unearthing the divine, the demonic, all the holy
drudgery in my heart, and seen them all blossoming,
the bloodsoaked petals of my heart, dangling,
time lapsed and still superimposed as i glare into the
mirror, into these teachers' eyes.  nothing can
be smooth these days out, i can only hope to consume
myself before she finds me, and picks my bones
clean. at the end, i am dry crackling white
porcelainesqueness, clattering up the hall,
through the creaking door, shambles rattling across the
living room and clattering down the stairs to rend
myself again, to ready myself again, is it possible that
i am instore for another night?  she couldn't have in
mind more luscious, lascivious, courageous descent,
lower and lower, all of the stairs and ropes in the
world couldn't possibly go this low, so i must ask her
if it is on the bows of her bloodcurdling shriek that i
am to be alofted once again to the land of living
souls, to the real of salvation and sainthood, battered and
bruised though i may be, it is there that i must
be, and will it so.  are you my lover tonight? are
you my reflection? my mirror, my vessel,  i empty all of
these fears and hopes, every drop of lusting and
debauchery into the comfort of your bottomless
pit heart, your infinite echoes, your perpetual
grafting wallows, my time to see the starry eyed
reflection of what we have left at the end of this road, the
mirror of the bottom of the glass and the eyes staring back,
i can hear the glistening ring of the song
already and again, the deepening follows the tracks of the
circles around my eyes, and the bending of the halo
around my head.  everyone on the train shows thier shiny,
shiny chompers, thier demons glare, the filter is
changed and the heaven i had is woven again with the
silent thread of langour, and exhaustion.  i know if i
could will myself to sleep. if i could kill myself to
sleep, i could sell myself to sleep, fall myself to
sleep,tell myself, and fix it all up in a short couple
of hours time i could let go of this shuddring,
stuttering gate, lift my feet off of the bones,
and tickle the slight sun with my listening ears, my
welcoming smile, my open heart.

i must be really fucking tired.