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.