from an unknown origin, water falls to meet my eye as i am walking.
the source cannot be found but
the message can be heard:
you must weep,
for humanity is at war with itself.
previously
i had been swallowed by the endless hunger and the lightless sleep,
until a monk’s gleaming teeth released my tired heart from
the binding rope of rumination. you are not alone, his teeth said,
not because you are not you but because you are not there.
you are inertia: the neck’s curve backward etched by time and repetition
like sounds trapped in the ridges of a record.
each blood stained name
splattered across your phone screen is a siren
screaming you awake.
you must weep
your tongue is neither drug nor anaesthetic
you cannot conjure freedom from an atrophied imagination
i will not flinch when karma strikes
because i am not here to be at war. i am so well dissolved by sorrows edge that it makes me
melt in the warm mess of oblivion.
death’s worst kept secret is that it is life and i
promised not to tell anyone, but i wasn’t myself when i
promised that. not because something came to kill me, but because
i am death.
become a ritual design wizard with the web of wyrdcraft.
master language to make the imaginal real at the next alchemical writing workshop.
schedule a 1:1 creative insight session with me.
Oh Goddess this is deliciously brilliant