*In case anyone is interested in what it feels like to be a recovering drug addict:
***
Apocalypse. Jaguar melting.
Graveyard of skin. Whistling bone.
Quenching flame. Cleansing renewal.
Uncompounded. Circle of light.
***
Pluck the sand from my eye, the tar from my lung, the heat from my blood, the dullness from your conquering blade. The glances thrown to the ground, the fumbling tongue that darts in the mud (filthy river) hurdles and traps, anxious exclamations, disorganization. Splintered heels buried stars in the crowd. The hands knocks on an open door…
Black on black, broken wings, murderous crows panting in circles, shedding tears. Trap-door spider, Gothic fur, eight heels, spindles and webs, out the door again. Secret flowering, bloody paper, tracing fangs, down the walls again. Real gore, on a loop; five minutes played the rest of my life. Splayed open, upside down, bump in the night, what a fright to behold. Young and old, marrow never tasted sweeter. Crushed again, down and deeper, where nightmares powder faces and cut the corners of your eyes. Sunk in the ocean, where is the path? Which way do I follow?
Actors like tigers. Paws scratch at the air. Meowing, purring, playful. The manager follows. Mr. Possett is knocked unconscious. I have miscalculated. I am holding a series of shelves, struggling to keep them even. They crash to the ground. San the Seer approaches: “This is a terrible tragedy. We’ll get past it somehow.” Black Woman offered: LSD, DMT, MDMA, and psilocybin. Unacceptable. The perfect pizza party!!! More actors. Auditions. Crowds and lines. My father and I running though sun-drenched forests, breaking limbs and branches, Navy Seals, jumping, ducking, crawling, flying at great speeds to get past “all this penis crap.” Leaping out of trees, my foot falls, like a hammer and a feather, on the back of a beetle (enjoying some shit) and like a rainbow without the sun, scuttles into the void.
I need to get something off my chest. Or is it all this damn cold medicine… No reward or reprimand. The flavor of electrons, virginal, color and form. The unobserved flower. I am the killer. A pacifist on the ground, killing. We all have to go through the lights. Upset at my presence. A fungus growing above the ground, bulbs and light: “I’ve heard when you eat them it’s even stranger.” Not that I would know. He strolls away. A handless mother loses her child. Roses wilting. Another pizza party. Breaking balls. Roses wilting in the sun. Groping hands. Shuffling papers. Searching for nothing. For something.
The temperature is rising. Dad awoke in flames. A red X on her door. “FUCK YOU.” The thermostat’s insatiable. The dishes unwashable. Homework and sloth-painted targets. High School and Gas Station party like there’s no tomorrow. Collected on the floor, a torso of a woman. No arms or legs, face down on the rug. She’s wearing a headband. No attention is paid to her rocking body. Sleepwalkers, talkers, trapped in a haze, blindfolded in a maze, a blank, autonomous gaze...
Adonis and Aphrodite. Foreshadows in the foyer. Everybody’s coming. Everybody’s going. Narcotics Anonymous. Only God Forgives, rolls out of bed. I prayed the magic pops, the French onion dips. Blue grinds my teeth. Bitter thistle, louder whistle. Cream of water. Sad girls pout. Smelling salts. Pretty faults… goodnight! Twenty-nine points and counting. Genuinely half-handed waves, vacant echolocation. Release mechanisms, valve-control. Sole, ballrooms, balloons in the attic, a pneumatic melodrama. You’re not hungry? Well eat some more.
Smells like smoke… the American Spirit isn’t sold in boxes. Lucky you. The spinning light of hexagons burning into vision. The energy of flames in your palm. We huddled around the seed. Excellent viewers. Roaring like forest-fires. Wonder gang; wonder why… Hatchling liberation. A crack in the shell. Buttery sweet. Lobster flesh. Eggs of the sky. Hands on the ground. Prayer is answered. The banana slugs traced patterns in the sand. Forcefully natural. Looks even better in person.
One: a lime-green suit. Expensive. Classic. Called me on the phone. I talked and watched afar. Pan tic, tic, tics like a nervous breakdown. “I am so sorry. Have a great vacation.” Two: walking. Waving in the air like I just don’t care. “Why do you rush to nowhere?! I can’t seem to ask you anything! Have you even trained?! Of course not!!!” Three: we’re together. She holds my hand, guides me through houses, doors and doors, she basked on the table, a beauty like perfection. I am contented. At rest. At ease. For once. I belong where I am at.
Wrestling infants (reclaimer) under bridges (silken strings) under oaths that broke a thousand times. This isn’t the end. Mother noticed the cap wasn’t closed. Confession rolls off the tongue. “It’s okay. I wish all my employees were like you.” I choke. I cry. Mother placed a towel on my bed. I lay down to sleep. A soiled rag. Cat vomit. Covered in insect bites. Suddenly at work. “You need a doctor immediately.” Chemical imbalance. Genuine concern. Timeless fortune locked away. Deep, deep, deep in the darkness.
Containers and shipping yards. Take the wheel, we may get pulled over. Flashing lights, red and blue splashed in the blackness. I palpitate. Officer down, spinning out. Rubber pealing on walls, echoes in a maze. We arrive. One true box. Our final resting place. Lost and Found sat smiling on a table. To my surprise, the container was unlocked. Open Sesame Street. The box swings open… the happiest thing ever put to film.
One of these days, clear and blue, these lies will tell themselves: the Sculpted Knot, the Isolationist, the Cartoonist, the Contortionist, the Melting Eye, the Cave Walls, the Fingered Ceiling. You look like someone who knows what they want. You look like somebody famous. The curtains come crashing to the Earth. Popcorn on a string. A giant foam thumb shoots into the sky. Trunks explode into leaves…
***
We’re rolling now. Tumbling, tumbling.
Tender leaves, whispered things, angel wings.
O beautiful daughter, astonished, bereaved!
The fawn has peaked. Kali praying at her feet.
What does evenness suggest?
I am a prism, aware of the light.
Three times a failure, four times a winner.
What does the elderly couple talk about at dinner?
The limits of quiescence. The end of the flesh.
-The fly was as much God’s child as they were-