Perfect Skin.

January 10th, 2009

The following was written last night and very early this morning between the hours of 11 pm and 7 am, roughly.

I believe these words to be the closest thing to truth this evil hand is capable of penning. I believe my mind to be free of all pretense. Existence is stripped bare, and in its nudity, its silly nudity, I see folly. I see laughable folly.

Within myself I see an ineluctable darkness; an unharnessed desire for destruction, chaos, misery, blood, fire, pain, grief, endless torment.

I want to die.

They are celebrating life - I was cast out. I am exiled from the cast outs; not even fit to be around the misfits.

For me there is no letting go, for my letting go would release an unspeakable horror.

I am now being made witness to truths I can
no longer ignore
Truth seeping out like divine luminescence
around my bedroom door
The Serpent's Tongue embedded eternally
within my mouth
I can almost . . .
I can almost see the top now

Daemons speak through me,
Clumsy in this mortal tongue
Daemons scream within me:
Laughing, mocking, controlling, devouring
Everyone

There is no life where no light is let in

They will watch me from the heavenly realm
(knocks at the door)
Call for me to join them beneath their artificial helm
(a voice from beyond)
'Pull the cozy, warm wool of love back over
your eyes.
All is well. All is love. All is kind.'

The Nausea begins to whisper
There is no satisfying this
Desire to suffer

The vomit begins to stir
I reject all promises of a brighter,
Better, happier future

This darkness . . .
This darkness is what's pure.

In its carnal howls, I hear intimations
of a human voice
In its acidic claws, I feel tightly clenched,
enthralled by the void
Sever all limbs, every root to the real
Spread my skin across the surface
Of the nearest star
Leave me to burn, dissolve,
Return to the blackest tar

Destroy this awful frame/Destroy this awful frame/Destroy this awful frame/Destroy
Destroy this awful frame/Destroy this awful frame/Destroy this awful frame/Destroy

I know the Daemon's name!
I know the Devil's taste.
I have seen deepest hate
And I have only this to pray,
Should the memory not remain:

I must never forget I was offered Salvation
Forgiven, tolerated, accepted, embraced
And I rejected the light
In favor of this abysmal conflagration

I saw through the forest,
Grim and unaware
To find the singular truth:

We are but a flimsy membranous
Existence
Able to mold, permeate, and destroy

But this . . .
But this is not our right.

The hedonist denies this because
This love is not lavish and beautiful

True, selfless love is to stand -
Stand back, and not intervene.
For some, the dawn leaves nothing
But garbage to glean.

These words mean something . . .

Remember them . . .

Remember what is writing through you . . .

This body is losing its faculties, shedding its purpose. I am transcending.

(momentarily)

But how lucky I am to feel this jagged caress, this ancient pain. This infernal clamor buried deep within is a blessing, so long as I remember to keep it hidden beneath this pretty skin.

I am loath to admit such a thing, but my cowardly brain needs this putrid reality
For good, or for evil
I prefer the imprisonment of existence to what's beyond: unfathomable banality

Untitled

Everything is annoying me right now. I know there is some kind of wave that is crashing into something that is trying to be stable and structured. When on snowpathed sidewalk, no one could know what had just happened and why the thoughts of things better than running at night caught up. You're not as present as you used to be. I might as well take a small lamp into a closet and sit against the wall and look at things and tape things and write things and burn things. You would be able to see the light from the outside. Wonder if you should open the door or just walk past, or even worse: sit in that room and do something else other than look at that small line of light and keep questioning. I liked what you were trying to say, I always do. But please, don't bring that rough set of rocks in a bag or disgust. Don't hand it to me. I do not want it.

Someone shoulda told 'em to slow down...