I sat naked, the shadows dancing around me, a sense of trepidation, such as one feels when contemplating trying on an old jacket, that one fears doesn't fit right.
My ajna formed a pool of shadows, inky and black, and oh so scary.
Here I am though, and really, I am prepared to handle any boogie boo boo (so I tell myself.)
I leap through the pool, my meat sitting chanting some meaningless something or other.
I leap through the pool and...suddenly I am face to face with a man with long red hair, and wearing a severely cut three button suit. He has a pin of a bright jade grasshopper on his lapel.
At the same time, he is this egg, of rainbow coloured slick, and also he is just horrible, but that is my hang up and not his.
He is smiling like he just dosed me with acid, and for some reason, he reminds me of Che Guevarra.
"Would you like some wine?" he asks, then all of a sudden he becomes liquid information, and the room starts to pulse, to a drum beat, then we are at a table playing dominos He nods, and laughs, and I find, I rather like him. He is dangerous, but coming from the ghetto, where EVERYONE had a gun, and was kinda crazy, I could deal with that, it was more a matter of understanding that there were absolutely no rules here, and in the absence of rules, manners take over.
We conversed in a high pitched sing song language, I felt like my brain was melting, and orgasming at the same time, then, all of a sudden, the body reasserted itself, and there I was in a dark dark room, with wine on my lips and a smile in my heart.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Ozone
On some days, it's pretty dangerous in here.
I spin in circles widdershins, nine times in total, with each swoop things blur more and more.
Faces and shapes come out of the aethyr, and as we pierce the lingual-glottal level, we hear a distinct chuckle.
Next comes the cold splash of the pool, Non-water like cold razor blades, its like your spine being stitched up by a mad, LSD-driven child. Cold comfort that it's not real.
Next we pass the interstitial meme-plexes, the dark desire beings, the porn monsters, the repressed reptillian slitch-screamers. It is in moments like these that you have got to have something to hold onto. Thus the aegyptian concept of a KA, or guardian spirit comes in pretty damned handy. Mine is the twin eaten at birth. She is a big spider mama, a dancing dream of blood and pumping rage. She does the job well, keeping off the inconsequential, but very deadly sub-conscious crawlies.
Suddenly I am through. An orange moon hangs in the east, huge, and so close that you can see the rabbit in it, bathing the world with a light that is not light.
Here is Daath, the crossroads.
I see them staring, three women, attached at their backs. one of them making the thread, the other weaving, and the last cutting, so kind, so beautiful and warm, I am fucking terrified by them on one level, and on another they are as mundane as apple pie. They stand on a pedestal, in a moonstruck pool, if you looked into it for too long, you would see all the way through the whole she-bang. The dome of the sky around me crackles with half seen faces, and it is truly like a dome, the darkness is almost crystaline. From the kindly sisters, we see paths, at first three, then eight, nine, a hundred, a billion, refracting on and on. In the center, next to the pool, a bench, and a veiled woman, her dress all reds, blacks and purples, she is pale, but black, and she smokes a cigar. I kiss her lips, and they taste old. I tell her why I am here, and that I am willing to pay the price, which is always in blood. I offer her that time, when I was 19 and cut my arm down to the bone, spilling my essence in a circle around her, Pain I have plenty of, and to her all times are one, she cackles and kisses me, grants my request and then I am here, writing to all you lovely people.
I spin in circles widdershins, nine times in total, with each swoop things blur more and more.
Faces and shapes come out of the aethyr, and as we pierce the lingual-glottal level, we hear a distinct chuckle.
Next comes the cold splash of the pool, Non-water like cold razor blades, its like your spine being stitched up by a mad, LSD-driven child. Cold comfort that it's not real.
Next we pass the interstitial meme-plexes, the dark desire beings, the porn monsters, the repressed reptillian slitch-screamers. It is in moments like these that you have got to have something to hold onto. Thus the aegyptian concept of a KA, or guardian spirit comes in pretty damned handy. Mine is the twin eaten at birth. She is a big spider mama, a dancing dream of blood and pumping rage. She does the job well, keeping off the inconsequential, but very deadly sub-conscious crawlies.
Suddenly I am through. An orange moon hangs in the east, huge, and so close that you can see the rabbit in it, bathing the world with a light that is not light.
Here is Daath, the crossroads.
I see them staring, three women, attached at their backs. one of them making the thread, the other weaving, and the last cutting, so kind, so beautiful and warm, I am fucking terrified by them on one level, and on another they are as mundane as apple pie. They stand on a pedestal, in a moonstruck pool, if you looked into it for too long, you would see all the way through the whole she-bang. The dome of the sky around me crackles with half seen faces, and it is truly like a dome, the darkness is almost crystaline. From the kindly sisters, we see paths, at first three, then eight, nine, a hundred, a billion, refracting on and on. In the center, next to the pool, a bench, and a veiled woman, her dress all reds, blacks and purples, she is pale, but black, and she smokes a cigar. I kiss her lips, and they taste old. I tell her why I am here, and that I am willing to pay the price, which is always in blood. I offer her that time, when I was 19 and cut my arm down to the bone, spilling my essence in a circle around her, Pain I have plenty of, and to her all times are one, she cackles and kisses me, grants my request and then I am here, writing to all you lovely people.
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