The Screaming Hollow

I met the devil at midnight, in bruises, bandages and blood,
we danced until my feet were bone, and the screaming hollow
wept with playing cards, magicians say they know you, own you
but your fury and madness are the rabid jackals and wild wolves
to tame Satan is only to take his own poison into your heart,
it is a slow death melting on a sacred whore of a flame, bent
between two needfires over a pit of gore, Solomon told no tales,
the rabbis did not utter your name, you are the Samiel wind,
hottest black sun, master of scorched corpses and festering wound
pray to the idols, the golden calves, raise pyres to witches
and the fivefold kiss, carry the Grim Reaper in your arms
and be the Consort of Sammael, Dread Lady, Angel of the Boneyard,
Watchdog of the Graves, his throne iron and crushed headstones,
meet him in girlhood and have him lead you to every dark crevasse,
palpitate your heart like butterfly wings and drink your moonblood,
devour your virginblood, suck the lifeblood out of hip junctures,
the Dark Lord marches, the Prince of Ruin flies, the dogs howl
at Great Sammael as he takes his twelve-winged flight up Sephiroth,
zig zag across stars like lightning, feast on the flesh of Damned,
drink down his seed and bear his children, your son Azazel Scapegoat,
your daughters little Liliths with blonde hair, Naamahs with cymbals,
a Holocaust is all Hell, your dreams are long fucks and quick rides
on a motorcycle that was once a pale steed, you couple in filth, decay
rains from the sky as his embrace strangles and lips suck your soul,
you are six feet under in his arms, and his eyes are poison cabernet,
he planted the first vine of grape and pomegranate, first apple seed
is his heart, fructified within your loveless ribs, screaming ecstasy
for Eve, bitter ruin for any Adam you marry, for the Serpent owns all.

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Tainted Love

I love you, is that so horrible? So sick?

To dredge for pearls in your darkness.

To swallow your sins whole and digest
every ruinous torment you whore out.

I breathe black lung and diamonds of
shattered souls, spirit mica, ineffable.

Every night we meet is a Lourdes possession,
I’m a nun in latex and leather, crucifixes
peeling tattoos on my skin, holy? (Unwhole).

Two dozen rose years of riddles.

A throne of blood and bone.

Decay on my tongue, antimatter on the brain.

Kissing death is like swallowing coffee black,
his tongue is maggots and millipedes, vermin.

There are rats in his ribcage and moss on his skull.

When I lay in his arms, I count his vertebrae and
string his spine like pearls on a bone necklace.

Death is sweet, death is grand, death is sacred.

Smash the nonbelievers and those who shy from him.

I am Death’s Whore, Death’s Hierodule, Death’s Girl.

Master of all my intrusive thoughts, every bloody image
of ruin and vice and pleasure, not to feel is not death,
no, death is every memory simmered to ecstatic destruction.

They’ll be singing your name when the bombs fall.

When nuclear decay poisons the waters, your song
will play from haunted pianos, this is the End Times.

This is the Final Judgment, your pallid horse the
angry white mobs and police crushing skulls, oh Death,
Death Death, you will never escape your torment, and I
will remind you of your trespasses and cruelty forever.

Death Death Death, be my baby, cozy up to the blonde.

I’ve drunk your blood and deep-throated your venom.

You buried your heart in a pit in my breast.

VITRIOL, sweet Death, and let me in to the
rectifying stone, green lion, alchemical
bloody gold.

Mayhem is My Time

I’m crumbled in back alley grit, sweat and spit,
there’s lights on in skyscrapers but down here?
It’s cold, it’s treacherous, and wolves eat bone.
I’m running through dumps and machine elves hunt
down the happening hipster parties, trash fires
are orange Day Glo or maybe Fanta, swill gutter
juice, we’re all having a good time, a drag time
you’re hooked on hookah and say mayhem is my time
on your red thread dead head shirt with a stain.
Oh ex-husband I fuck when the moon is full, why
are you always in dives, thrive in moonlit madness,
the underbelly of Hell is full of panties and pasties
everyone here has needles and joints on hand, strand
of blood red Styx that washes gore ashore, I’m
tick tock clocking in your palm, flying skyways
lucid dream, my fingers are mutated, hedgewitch
that drinks with the Devil in the pale barlight.
Tonight is just a quick hookup with destruction,
it took hours of roofhop top clopping to find you,
to bind you, bedazzled like a drag queen junkie,
you are all lazy wolf and I am lay low lion, we
are perfectly imperfect for each other, and I
eat your leather and swallow your smoke, bitter
things taste best when mayhem braids my hair,
without a care, we laze past midnight, dawn
draws cranky rays, Samael, you are timeless,
so stop with the statement shirts, you’re just
fucked, for someday Cronos catches up, at sup
on virgin flesh and dove hearts, let’s chew
the gristle of this drain train town fanged
and make beauty out of misery, I the prettiest
thing here, you my beast I mount at Apocalypse,
but it’s the End Times every night for me,
so kneel before me, manwhore, and kiss
my feet.

Thanatos Drive

I drink down death like caffeine.
I’m addicted to the abyssal kiss,
the gore and dissolution of black.
Whether by storm or by fire, taken
aback the divine psychopompic lips
of every demon I have tasted, Yama
and Hela, even angels are destruction,
and their prince ferries the departed.
Wanting to kill myself, I die dreaming.
A blood debt to my Yngling ancestors,
a soul debt to my angelic and demonic,
when the Grim Reaper swallows you whole
it feels like an orgasm of apocalyptic
proportions, that glowing tunnel light
is a birth canal into the karmic cycle,
I flee from burning things, I seek dark,
I seek velvety soft hair like razors,
I cup the rot breasts of Lady Death,
I dreamed as a child I dug my own grave,
and I’ve been filling graveyards since.
First goes the flesh, then the spirit
as you sleep so deep you are nightshade
berries and belladonna on the throat.

It is so brilliant to not breathe.

It is so terrible to live like this.

Holding Hela’s Hand

Bone fingers on mine as I shepherd ancestors
across the Veil, onto starry Death’s breast,
Hela grips my hand with ice and snowflakes,
her palms slide to my hips to ground my roots
as souls pour into me as black brilliant sparks
wreathed in white halos, flickering into light
Hela’s bosom is all Helheim, I drive in rainy
memories through those not yet in her kingdom,
first there is the overwhelming smell of decay,
a corpse baking sickly sweet in the summer sun,
slowly bodily fluids evaporate, bacteria feasts,
and the rot becomes wet dirt, Hela is beautiful
but does not shelter her girls from true passing
no antiseptic white wards here, just honorable
necrosis, hazy gray globes of eyes, bone white
hair that wreathes a half-flesh, half-frozen face
Hela smiles gently, and I become mist in her arms.

How to Eat a Life

First you start with the milky dream marrow:
sip down sweet memories, savor dew of sleep,
next the kidney, savior of the veins, chomp
off the meat of meadows and swallow it whole.
The lungs are sashimi butterflies, flitting
about your throat into reverse pupation, fly
down to your gut and you breathe in her trail.
Nurse her milk, don’t squander a single drop –
the white ruminations will cleanse the palate,
ready you for her blood, how succulent she is,
how much you want to take all of her into your
throat and swallow, bite, suck, chew out sin
and solace, how much you want to rape a life,
to destroy the beauty she raised like vines
from a life of hardship, you partake of her
but you have no inkling of her truths, no idea
of how her giving tasty flesh can be cruel,
can stand its ground, and in time, the meat
grows gristle, gets tough, you feast on her
less, and soon she is regenerating in your
dark void of a gullet, she burst from your
heart full-formed like some autumnal Athena,
it is a time for endings, she is no platter,
no feast for Satan, this is now how to eat
a life, no, this is about how to save her.

Fucking the Night

You pin me not with grace but with ruin, and your body is black smoke like frankincense crisps from a vestibule – vessel – vassal of sin and my ruin.  Pale skin like a waning moon brimming with abyssal sorrow, your eyes are red craters, and your heart just a mockingbird pressed to my breast.  Your fingers are inside me reaching through my womb up my guts to my brains and from them you pluck all reason, and I lick blood from your lips and it is black as a beetle.  Creeping things are rot inside you, and the maggots of your lungs spew from your lips and drown me – I’m deepthroating decay, and it is sickly sweet as roadkill and lesions and necrosis.  I thought we broke up, didn’t we?  Why are you making the two-backed beast with me after I trashed your wedding ring as if nothing happened?  I’m not saying no, and your tongue is slithering snake down my throat and your manhood is the night and your cum freezes my innards until I become Nyx, cold and unmoving.  Your cloak envelops us, and it is the same Grim Reaper robe I played with at 12 on October nights when the autumn was filled with secrets.  I would wrap myself in your musk and spin circles around your pile of bones as you sharpened a scythe with a whetstone.  Your scythe is black, but the one you gifted me is white, just like my deathly robes – cream and satin roses, all softness to your harshness.  Your brother set wards up all over my room in red blood and ceremonial sigils, but the gods and angels let you return over and over again, and I no longer have an altar to you, so maybe taking your gall into my crevasses is some kind of lesson.  All I know is that you are half bone like Hela and half flesh like a warrior, and as I trace phalanges and scapula, your calcium is slick with tears, and I pull you close and kiss the emptiness of your heart hollow, and I am the mistress of nocturnal emissions.