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Heaven (obscurity)

i. If you’d ask me to recount my night I'd proclaim limb-raveging ecstasy, moon worship and indignant blood-letting. The kind of business that has to hide from itself because Lucifer and Dionysus belong to two different realms, and my Naiad cove does not have space for both at once. Oh, but it is the form of Bacchus, Bacchus that has my heart, for he tempts, but The Devil corrupts, while god lacks capitalization! Will I ever sing in Bacchic remembrance the chant that engulfs us all? Will Dionysian Mysteries reveal themselves through divine inspiration and permit my involvement in what lies below hell? Will my girlhood return in the process? If I dig deeper into my ribcage than he ever could (or dared to), if I take back my pain by recounting it in a more acute fashion, will I be pure once more? Will I smile with teeth? Will my spilled guts feel gut-wrenching or gut-gratifying?

ii. Is it not the flail that calms you? Is calm not found in a frenzy of the sun-scorched kind? Are my tears still made of blood if there is no one here to taste them?

‘Darkness helps us to feel holy’

Euripides, The Bacchae

like god

The promise of betterment, a night owl’s talons drawing blood, The haze of tomorrow, milky eyes of a predator that slept too little The haunting in a house of cards, packing vermilion onto dewy cheeks

Dissolute Sanguine

To perceive is to digest, and to digest is to warp beyond repair; Do not perceive that which you do not wish to be warped. i) Cessation of self prompts the veiling of mirrors, And a vampiric urge to l


It is that spectacular night sky that, shameless, spread before the eyes of the Lord, lures me to all the corners of the cosmos that I've yet to touch, bound by a sense of child-like innocence. It is


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