THE WHITE HORSE part 33

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There is no dove without you. Words perfect words, come and go. They never give you your space to cry in. Words I could cry all night into nothing, ripping wet babies from the hole. My words are violent, don’t think I don’t know the killer drinking dove light and laughing. The pull, midnight pulls, into the anchor of fury with wet daylight, and bleeds out another daytime song. I would never tell you goodbye. The sifting letters drop from your lips into me like the forever kissing universe, ending only in your crow bent eyes. I saw the sunrise upon your back, the dark horse who rode me back. I saw the red sun upon you bringing the dove. No one wore a wooden frame anymore and the red flame grew into the one riding fury who was you, and blue smoke surrounded your song, leaving ashes, only ashes with no rider, only moonlight in your singed hair. It’s too early to tell, to see yet the mandala drawn in the virginal sky. The perfect creation of space soon to be broken by bellows of tears, sung by spirals of sound. In your white dove eyes my vicious true light of love, too mad to care who gets hurt, left behind without me. The wind is always laughing like that, her drunk bright heaven of you, underneath all these worthless, noisy clouds. What can I do for you, something spiritual? The God socket, blow out my brains. That’s what I’ll do. The hot worms in the sky, like before when no one cried and only I knew and saw it was you. The giant serpent waiting for me. Killer white, bone breath, the haunt of slopes forever rising, wave after wave of snake inside me. I hope you get out, I hope you smear death in their eyes, “At last I’m yours.” Said the angry dove. Turning white into black forever the two. One buried body. Alone. Love. Call me back inside. He was obsessed with God’s eyes, the rain meant nothing after that, only her. All the rest, only hollow, useless warnings of Armageddon and I didn’t care, you were everywhere. Your white moonlight touching me, bringing me the dove, touch me with you. Skin love, she’s invisible all over me now. Yes it’s true. No one loves you, black starlight, like I do. Midnight his words on the water, are for me, death on love’s tears of wrath. I never forget a face, it’s you white with wings. It was you all along.

Because I trust you with my broken heart. Because your eyes sing hallelujah. Because everything is vivid, like me, with you inside it.

Me, the white outcast of song.
Will you sing me?

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That night a violent and passionate storm broke out over the valley. I had thought about only him all day long, as the fairies bathed me, as I sat daydreaming about him and only his eyes. His body like a wild snake wrapped around me, breathing me, in and out like my lungs were made of serpentine light, like my breath belonged to only him. Like I might die if I had to breath another moment without him as my source. The mystifying sorcerer, the Dark Sun had done more than just seduce me, he had fused his soul with mine in such a way, I expected to find him in the mirror, hear him in my voice, see him in my eyes and I did, but it wasn’t enough. I was hungry, but food was not it, I needed him, only him to find any contentment at all. He had taken me into some other universe, some place where bodies who love become more than simply the vessel, they become the source of life to the other, exactly as the sun to the moon. And this was it, this erasing of me that I was so intoxicated by, far more than the wine, just his simply eclipsing me perfectly was what seemed to me to be, all that anything had ever meant or that anything could ever lead to. And for me, it was him, the sorcerer who could turn me from black to white to just gone. Gone into the warm, flowing bliss of him. Floating inside him, in me the ocean or the night sky fluid, I don’t know it doesn’t matter. It’s just him and he’s everything. And so my obsession only became more acute, the moments and hours I couldn’t see him. He didn’t come into the room, his own chamber, the rest of the day and by night I was desperate. Desperate to know him as me, the consummation of lights, one more time, again and again. Creating the destruction of me, and now willing to fall, to perish, to obey I didn’t care. I just wanted his mouth and his eyes. His warm hands, his voice in my ear. I grew very restless, like a person addicted to a drug. I paced the room, calling to him from inside, begging him to come be with me this night. And I heard nothing, eventually my desperation turned to anger, because I know he heard, he always heard, and I hate being ignored more than anything and so I went to the oval mirror and decided to see if I might talk to him in that way again. Nothing worked, I even gazed threateningly into the scrying bowl calling out to him and only silence, watery murky silence. “This anger who goes unheard, she must have a name.” I thought, because once she takes over, this body takes on an entirely new lightness of being, such as a sword of light finally being heard, too swift to even be seen, invincible then, cutting through the numbing silence and defining the edges of the thing so desperately needed. And this anger was more like an animal than I was, more vivid, more flowing, electrical blood, a sparks of hazard in my eyes of gold, I could turn heaven to ash with a glance of my rage, and I believed in that moment I might even try. I was insane with physical agitation as if I relied upon his heat or his heart to keep me stable at all. Like I said, I was addicted to him, maybe it was the wine or maybe it was just the way our bodies burned as one, I don’t know but I was starving for it and the sky knew it. I walked out onto the veranda in the dark of the full moon night. Breathing heavily, heart thumping in my chest, no peace at all. The silver light fell upon me like rain as I glared up at her face, even the goddess moon looked as if she were herself, looking for him. Her beams like a searchlight as she spun her silver soul light making circles, perfect circles on the earth down below, on the underworld of holy beasts and desires unleashed. “I could be the one.” I thought as full of myself as the moon in her glory, magnificently fed by the left over sun. “A moon could be a black widow or a wolf.” I thought as I watched her, she seems to devour, inhale everything, pull up even the water into the sky. She rides the sun and nobody sees really how, like me she is a killer. That she wears the biggest brightest mask of all, hiding from us all her desires, taking from us all our heat. Soothing us while she sucks out the marrow, wraps us in silken webs and leaves us for the dawn. The dawn brought by Venus, her princess daughter. And so my mind was weaving the tail of the moon, her axis, the magnets that chase us and guide us. “How will I ever know what this means?” I was grasping for solace where there was none without him…and as I watched her, bathing in the bewitching galore of her mind sweep, I felt someone watching me and an eery, heavy silence fell over me like a dark, sultry blanket. I stood mesmerized in the feeling of wild, demonic, lust for the light. My light, the moon’s light, any and all light. Like a ghost without the sun, or a shadow without a wall to penetrate, I was stunned on the spot, by a feeling consuming my body without a source of it’s own. I was bound by this energy rising like a moon up my spine, spinning inside me in a subtle sexual euphoria that had no exact location to penetrate and I stood motionless, feeling, listening deeply to the seduction of this lust, for the food of my light. My body as simply a metaphor for a dominion far holier than any embodied god. I began to shake like an earth quaking from deep down inside, a place lower than my body could ever go, as far as I knew, an underworld as divine to my body as heaven is to angels. I turned sinful in an instance. Her anger, her blood filled, throbbing anger takes me into the eyes of the snake every time, and don’t think the snake always slithers, sometimes he pounces, sometimes he strikes, sometimes he just howls until you go insane…and then I heard it, this calling. I will never be able to tell you the sounds that haunted me in that night. The soul calling the moon, the saddest, most sublime empty howling, and even howling isn’t a word that describes the depth of this lunar demon who I’m calling my heart. It was low and invisible, sonic and rippling, like a whale before time ever began, like a feminine sea with nowhere to land, like a giant mystical bird without a sky to pierce, like a throat, an empty, hollow, wet throat where god might make us all, where we might make love, inside this throat, gurgle, swallow and die inside of each other as nothing but a grief we couldn’t hear but I love you might be enough, if I could eat you, turn you blank so that I could die to into this sound of you minus all of me. All I know, is the call with no center, all I know is the circle the moon kept on drawing on the ground below. The crushed red rose covered ground of ancient secrets, secrets that grow pretending to be flowers and we smell this perfume of the secret sound that calls and we love the flower without even knowing why. And this was what I heard, the calling from the circle of the moon. I felt the pull, the magnet of wild escape just as I looked down from the trance of my rapturous seize, to see shining in the rays of silver moonlight a white wolf staring at me, calling me with no sound at all. “Is this real? Am I hallucinating?” I wondered? The wolf had wings is why. The wolf has glorious pearlescent wings like an angel who had fallen to earth and only I heard the thump. It was my heart remember? My heart where he was and I’d been looking and now her anger had blown a hole in the Dark Sun and a white winged wolf had fallen from the realm of the moon, just to know me, just to destroy me with my self.

Slowly I began to move toward the stairs that spiraled from the veranda to the ground below. Never taking my eyes off this creature, never disguising my sound as anything other than desire for God. God means many things in a world such as mine. He didn’t move, his eyes were blood red glowing with a terrifying, peaceful light. I descended in the dark, lit by the moon’s essence, I descended toward him, and he never moved. Every cell of my body was pulsating as if I may not be as solid as I thought,
like when I first fell through the cracks, like when I first made love to the dark, calling it a man. When I got to the earth, my feet naked, my body only covered in the sheer white silk robe, my skin still carved with pentacles and my lust for him still rising like a snake toward the thought of the mystical hole. The throat hole of this everything I’m calling me as the one. Since the moon was full and since I was angry and unsatisfied now that he wasn’t with me. And I walked, like a see through black panther straight into his arms, I mean, his wings of obliteration. There we stood face to face. He was huge, white like snow, fur shimmering like waves of white sea, eyes red and foaming like a shark bite under tumultuous waters. I wasn’t afraid. His breath was hot, like steam as I lifted my hand to touch him. Something about this wolf reminded me of Pan, reminded me also of the Dark Sun, and even strangely enough, this wolf reminded me of the serenity of Ceres although he was dangerous, yes I could tell. He was communicating with me like Pan, primal projection without actual words. “What if I devour you. And what if you become me.” That’s what I heard as I dropped my soft, white robe to the hard ground and said, “Go ahead.”

In the underworld forest of mirrors we go deeper into the dawn as if she never came at all. The virgin and the snake, the sorcerer I couldn’t call back quickly enough to feed me, the deep inner white hot hell of how much I love you.

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Like a storm that’s unstoppable
I want to be inside of you,
screaming hell backwards and forward and cutting away dead skin.
Like a volcano that’s fatal
I want to be the hot river
that feeds you my molten inferno
and makes you forget everything but me. Like an eagle that’s the biggest
I want to be on top of you
the white and the holiest mountain of all…

inside of me as the God snake
ending the storm and the fire
the devil snake that spoke a language
only I could hear. Magic tongue,
we are alive. And nothing can
stop me but you. God shock.
Love steam, black broken endings,
only I was there always,
with my secret whisper…
saying, take a bite.
Eat everything in sight.

Look up, it’s his sky
blood below, thorns.
Only God hears,
Her red seeded
empty heart
calling, you back
to the nothing.

Where Christ died for me
as a sinner.

Sharada Devi

BOHEMIAN SADHU PARADISE

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TRIPLESS TRIPPING BOHEMIAN SADHU

It’s what’s the point of pointless searching, it’s what’s the trip, where’s the cutting board, whose going nowhere? TRIPLESS TRIPPING BOHEMIAN SADHU. Nobody needs to get hurt, just forgotten. You, the trip, magic mushroom ride. Magic mushroom eyes. I knew everything and I saw the great one smiling at me. I found out about trips and alien DNA and I found out about why we shouldn’t drink monkey blood or reptile anything. We left New York.

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We leave everything, I always have. I must continue dying, I see this deep inside my view master bones. We leave and hide out under trees in jungles and deserts. We live in giant beautiful houses and then we live in a tent. We aren’t afraid to wander, we are gypsies dancing the dance, celebrating the elusive gods, drunk on the psychedelic sky.

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We give it all up, to be free from broken things, like fear and attachment and postures such as down dog. It’s these rainbow wing, that keep the skin boat afloat. Sadhu of America Bhagavan Das the original God father of heavenly sin, he’s really a lion with a rainbow beak. He’s really a gandharva. I’m really just a gopi. We have a harem, a castle, a wet cardboard box. Stuck nowhere in the rain, pennies fall and paradise sprouts from the faithful. We ride on a magic carpet, there is nothing here…but this rainbow song. Be free, let go, be nothing for awhile. Be someone nobody sees, be a bright animal under a tree. Let it go, forest dweller, let death go deeply into your veins. There is no home but the holy.

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The holy means unkempt and ludicrous. The holy means unadorned and bruised. The holy means feet under river water, on morning grass. The holy means a muddy body and dandelion greens for breakfast. The river is home. Sleep on a bag of bones, forget service. Eat death like rainbows, forget good causes. Spike the water with arsenic, forget holding on to the coming of Krishna. The body bag is here now and we’re in it if we hold still in that neighborhood for one more day…a corpse in a Prius. I would thrash until I was free if I were you because that’s how butterflies get out of the prison they made, it’s time to fly, high high high.

You like Whole Foods that much?

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Poison, this serpent’s poison lifts me higher every time. The way out is through. Through what, is what we leave…we leave the “what?” poison that doesn’t turn to gold, this alchemical kingdom of earth…is our trip, find the kaleidoscope, find the “why?” in pursuit of the word, beauty, somehow held in a less form fitting way, but loosely like a fluffy cloud that brings peace. And under the warlock trees and the blue wilderness calling, inside the witch’s moon music and her sandalwood skin, the bright angel star is found.

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Shiva, the sadhu. Nameless without any religion or caste. Unborn without any clothes or opinions. Just a snake spiral and a prayer wheel spin, just a deep sigh before dying into the emptiness of just another one of her lucid opal moments…

And so he does this and he makes messes that I clean up, wax and ash mostly. And I do whatever I want, whenever I want, and he just lets it all hang out while I paint castles in the sky all afternoon and name myself nothing again and again…

Sadhu in paradise, nobody said it would be easy to take it easy, although he does make it look effortless…

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BOHEMIAN SADHU PARADISE WE MAKE IT LIGHT AS A KITE WHEREVER WE GO, JUST A BALLOON WITH NO STRING…ONLY SPACIOUS OPEN ETERNAL SILVER SKY.

He always says “Don’t worry about a thing…every little things gonna be alright.”

I think his way is the sacred highway,

the sky way, the way I want to die way.
Sharada Devi

hyper high on the black exhaust of my master

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A little dying fish flipping on his back can’t breath. One day I thought I died and a pale man walked up to me and said, “Would you like to go for a ride?” “Underwater?” I asked.

After that,

I told those voices to fuck off and then they wrote “CROWN” on the top of my head. “Is this some sort of joke?” I said….my fish, he’s flipping backward…he’s gone totally insane…so anyway, I shot that dog in the head last night, not likely headed to that rainbow bridge place all the dog doctors promise either. It’s hard, getting a handle on sin and redemption, little screaming midget germs with their notebooks watching everything, keeping track of my movement on paper…

how many times can I say goodbye, that is my spiritual life, waving death. It hurts and I hurt back. How many times can I die in this body, that is me wearing out my redemption, it cuts and I cut back. The boat came and it sank long ago…I have drown in a million secrets. How many times have I said I love you and where did you go when you left, my draining fear of you under water without me, unlocked inside the magic pendant?  Your face began to disappear as I began to die again. I only forgot you for awhile and I’m sorry. Is there anything that doesn’t hurt, is there any worn out pain, the pain that grows the garden? You should take me seriously you shouldn’t read my words as if I were the lonely one. I wear you secretly around my invisible neck. I wear you because you need me, anyway I’d like to think so, it’s easier than saying goodbye. It’s easier than shooting you in the head and having to clean it all up…blood just doesn’t disappear and neither does sound. Thoughts and words last forever, and that’s likely what hell is, all those thoughts and sounds we thought we dumped onto others…or into the so called silence. No such thing as silence, only black matter, and you’ll not want to visit her anytime soon, trust me. Vacuum cleaner of the universe, out of sight out of mind is my motto. I’m tired of blow jobs anyway, no offense it’s just kind of boring, like this earth realm, is this really the best I can do? That’s where all my low self esteem comes in, like, what did I do so bad to end up here? Then I start thinking, then I start panicking, then BD says you need a toke, relax…then I scream, “I hate pot and all you fucked up humans!”…and then I start cleaning or rearranging or writing to you. You’re almost like the combo between a teddy bear and a punching bag…but isn’t it true? I’m so desperate it’s pitiful, all the things I reveal…and yet, it’s thrilling to me because I’m a flasher. When I said that the other day, I wasn’t kidding- I’ve had flashing issues my whole life, I can’t seem to stop, ask my mom. She’s like “Michelle go put some underwear on.” And then dresses were just banned all together…and then my refusal to wear “bras” which I NEVER will and all this nonsense about “see thru clothing” like my one boyfriend was such a control freak he made me go out into the sunlight to check if my clothes were see through – it got bad- because I met him at a place I worked where my boss would make me wash the glass doors as the sun streamed in and he and all his friends would watch …I figured it out after awhile and sure I was offended, but maybe I wasn’t, maybe it’s what I want! What? To be “seen.” Right, one more time, not like that, haha. It’s a soul’s cry for help I’m sure…but so far, help isn’t coming so I continue to act out, death quickly approaching, me on a string dangling, nothing below but fire and teeth…

What did any of it mean? We were all just looking for love. This elusive idea, love…that destroys us and we never quite understand where it went or who it was. The old person lies aching in the corner, joints swollen with grief, the eternal loss… as I sit in the shadow of him, watching and wondering where we’ve all gone. I’ll try to stay upbeat, I’ll try to smile as I die, I’ll try to make meaning out of useless surges of light. But then again, why should I bother? I don’t eat flesh, I just said that to scare you. I eat nothing, because nothing is all there is. Not love, not “love is all there is” No, but nothing, nothing is all there is…and in the nothing I yearned for something, the closeness in your eyes, the ending of words, the rage in the carcass, looking for me despite all the flesh in the way, these horrible bodies, this horrible space between us…and will it ever go away, I think not. Because we come here to hurt ourselves vividly, distinctly. It’s morbid that we talk about healing when all we really want is hurting. I get it, I don’t know I’m alive. I gave up, many tears, many years ago. I gave up on gurus, I gave up on trying, I gave up on fixing myself as I was. I just stopped listening to the clock who lies anyway, pressures us always knowing we don’t stand a chance. I make everyone laugh all the time. I’m a comedian. I hear comedians are the saddest people of all. Ironic. My words come from talking tears, the possession is death who rapes me daily. I have no innocence, no purity only his face waiting behind my eyes. You should stay away from me, I’m actually the grim reaper truly, he jumped in while I was dying. And when I came down from the ceiling where she always floats waiting, he decided to stay, in me, my body. I am not a goddess, not even close, no matter how much Bhagavan Das tries to convince you…he’s just sorry for me, he knows I’m a laboring slave is all, and he thinks nobody sees or appreciates me so he tries to sell me, like a car, to younger men and anyone who might hear, and he’s sweet and forgiving of my suicide wishes and demonic insanity. He’s as still as glass while I break him. So I am the one in a black cape with my eyes covered, I am the one with the scythe, I am the cold dark one you all run from. I make honey out of words when I’m hungry. And I’m not special, just honest beyond belief, in all my delusion. And because I laugh for you and because I make everyone laugh to disguise what I’m really doing, which is cold blooded killing, then everyone thinks my life is a party and I’m some bitch on a high horse chewing up God like he owes me…

and who knows maybe I am, maybe it’s all true. I am sure I fall under one of the twelve moons. Don’t say you’ll pray for me either, it’s stupid.

I would have wrote part 33 today but I don’t feel like disciplining myself to stay on topic. I can do anything btw, you know I’m good at it all, but I despise being forced -well not always- forced to do anything 9-5. I’d rather be dead and well, I kind of already am. And also, not a pity party, just my ordinary thoughts rising and falling much like a frustrated penis, I guess you could say…

I just can’t stop. I know this. I’m too hyper high on the black exhaust of my master.

Sharada Devi

THE WHITE HORSE part 32

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There was once a lonely white wolf who sat outside of a lonely white cave on a lonely white mountain peak watching lonely white snow fall,
covering the lonely white wolf in white quiet loneliness. The wolf sat thinking of the white sunlight as it streamed through his white broken heart. “I know she’s here somewhere,” He said to a lonely white ghost who hovered nearby. “I’ve looked high and low and she’s gone.” The ghost said, “Did you love her?” And the wolf said, “How could I she made me feel so lonely I forgot.” I loved her I did, she was white and lonely. The sky was white, I loved her like a broken promise. I loved her like a great white shark bite. I loved her like the snowflake stuck inside my lonely eyes. In a parallel universe I loved her and she wasn’t a wolf and neither was I. She was a moon, the full white moon that my soul dies howling to. And I was the white wave that she pulled on like a blanket of sea. I was the one who loved her the most and yet never touched her lonely face. We were sad and the world began even sadder, as I howled lonely white wolf songs and she dropped lonely white tears. But I wasn’t a wolf or a wave and she wasn’t a wolf or a moon and two white shells are all that we had or we wore. And I was inside her because she cried this echo into me and now she’s gone and I’m white and lonely and you’re a ghost asking me why. It’s her voice, it’s her lonely white voice, the one I can’t see that surrounds me in white and silk covers my eyes. She’s too soft to see, this lonely white death, as she remembers me and yet doesn’t take a thing. The white cave was lonely and empty behind him like a white shell on the edge of a mountain. How did we get here? The sea is so far below, this parallel universe of sound that hurts. Hitting the white rocks, the white water missed the bottom of a lonely world. A world that didn’t even exist,
just a lonely love beside itself, playing a lonely white guitar, as if he held death and loved her anyway. Could she live again, could I bring her back, the lonely white moon that I sing to, these white lonely songs of our darkening souls? The ghost likes to listen and haunt his goodbyes…

I like the sound of death. The sound of shadows that are so powerful they don’t even have to talk. I walked to a lake this morning in the dark, down a long lonely dirt road covered in dark death trees, shadows quiet, too powerful to talk. I walked like a ghost floating on the road, no car came, only death behind me and the sun didn’t rise on time even then. I walked taking pictures of mice disguised as many larger things in the shadows and I heard myself quietly remembering my name. After all, we never move alone, we never die alone, we never become white, like light, the morning or the moon all alone. Oh no, the white wolf is always there darkly as death wondering where she went.

Parallel universe a pearl in the fire’s lonely snow. I made you. As I walked on the dark road, I knew that. I took a picture and you were inside. Crying silent lonely, dying silent lonely. Should we laugh instead? God, this light gets so heavy it haunts me like you….white hands a white death where shadows are formed as I write to you from the dark about dying…the only white I know…is you. All I can do is love you until you’re not afraid anymore…of me.

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When I woke up the next morning early to the light prism through the crystal portal etched like a diamond just over my head, I did not feel hung over, actually I felt like a god. I had pentagrams drawn in blood all over my body and the bed was a mess, you might imagine with crushed flower petals, drops of blood or wine, feathers, yes actual feather both in black and in white…so I lay there wondering what is real and what isn’t. If I wasn’t hallucinating, him as a bird, and all the other animals we both became, what happened? I was so beside myself in euphoria it almost didn’t matter, I just wondered is all…but this underworld, I keep forgetting is so much different than the world with grandma…”Yes, grandma…” I thought with a small frail tear in my eye and I quickly forgot her and moved onto the next thought. I couldn’t think about grandma anymore, the pain was too vivid, the memories knocking too hard in my head, later, I would remember the pain…

So I’m lying in this bed infused with his sorcerer’s essence and he’s not here. Only the feathers and the fragrance of smoke, only his designs upon my body. Pentagram drawn in blood. I guess it’s my blood, but it could be his as well…and I lay there blissfully watching the light from the crystal prism dance rainbows on my blankets as the door opens and several fairy goddesses enter. They brought food, they began cleaning up the mess we’d made. They opened the big deep red velvet curtain that covered the window behind the table with the scrying bowl, and I found it wasn’t a window, but a glass door leading into a veranda that overlooked the entire blood red, lit valley. Today the light was bright, more like a golden pink, as it shined it’s opulent rays onto the black, marble floor. I heard happy morning birds, I smelled the perfume  of fertile, ready flowers. It was enchanting, this morning, because the world was alive with nectar and light, but most of all, because he left some of himself inside of me, his nectar and light, and I felt him rising like the sun, this essence of him, permeating my body and heart with a magic that felt even beyond a word as simple as love. A magic that has no description from the minds of mere mortals. No, he was certainly a god, a god who I clearly needed to be blessed by….again and again. I remembered everything like you would remember a lucid dream, he was like a dream in himself, so perfectly floating and warm, so dangerous and comforting, so bright with venom and so dark with desire. I can’t say what he thought of me, I generally think of myself as a disappointment, maybe that’s why he left…and my heart sank a little at that thought, as I felt vulnerable and insecure. I felt my secrets were not secrets anymore and since my secrets are really all that I had, now I had nothing. Maybe some cheap witch power but I was nothing compared to him. I began to ache with the longing to be more, just so I could be sure he would love me forever. I cannot say why I feel, now that I know some unknown thing deeply, that I am nothing without him, that I had never lived until he touched me, that I had never breathed until he blew into my mouth, that I had never seen until he looked into my eyes…and suddenly I felt like a trapped, caged animal exposed, unable to hide and my heart began to race and panic set in. I love him way too much to think clearly. It makes no sense, I barely know him. He had total power over me and that is not what I wanted. I was supposed to have a counter attack and now I only had desperation, desperation to be loved again and again, seen thoroughly in the night. My euphoria was swirling madly into agony as a fairy approached me and said, motioning to the veranda where there was a table, chair and food, “Would you like to eat while we make your bed?” “Yes, thank you.” I replied as she handed me a white, silk robe to put on, and I did, covering all the blood stars and I went outside.

Outside on the veranda, overlooking the valley, was a most exquisite view and experience. A warm breeze blew, vines of red and white flowers wrapping themselves around everything. Grapes and berries dangled, birds decorated the
dreamy sky as clouds, pale sheer clouds, danced like seductive women in the breeze. I sat overlooking the valley as I began to eat the food they’d brought…fruit, bread, a golden colored milk..when I heard the sound of thunder so familiar to me…I said to no one, “It’s him.” As I looked out and like thunder riding thunder, the Dark Sun was riding Pan furiously across the valley below. Pounding the earth, running at full speed, I’ve never seen such a sight, like streaking black lightening almost too fast to recognize. It was as if God was going to war. “I wonder where they’re going?” I thought, as suddenly Pan stopped and turned around and they came back in the same direction. They continued to do this, furiously running at full speed back and forth across the tender valley below. I ate watching them and wondering why…

He was beside himself in frustration as he rode his stallion Pan like an epidemic sweeping the valley. He had lost control and now he was hooked. He was not supposed to make love to her, but rather let her imagine by the power of the wine’s hallucinogenic magic that he had, let her play it all out in her head, with him as her guide, let her work out all the darkness that rose and let her begin to transform name, face and place back to the beginning. But no, he broke every rule in the book and had opened flood gates that were impossible to close now that her shadow was upon his in the deep act of union. Once the snake sees the snake, it’s impossible to pull out, it’s all over now. The flood gates of serpentine, all seeing oceanic love. But he had missed her so much, for so long and, oh, how he loved all that he saw, so far beyond her glorious goddess body, so deep into her ancient singing soul, so deep into the ultimate black of her silencing heart. Her heart was a weapon of hidden force and she had no idea of her lethal capacity, thinking she needed another plan to conquer him, other than just simply opening her heart to him, and now they were both stuck in this horrible, terrifying spellbound place of a hovering, irreversible, consummated love. She opened her heart desperately like a dying flower to it’s last ray of sunlight and it threw him off track, completely annihilating all reason, now he was trapped inside her innocent, passionate love, consumed by her heart’s insatiable mouth and although this certainly gave her power over him, he realized she also lost power to him by taking his soulful, ancient love into her…both of them now trapped in and by the unbearable, destroying love of the other, with no better plan of attack, no escape, no logistical training as he had hoped and planned for. No, no amount of strategy could harness the power of this opened, wrathful love and he knew he was in big trouble. So much was at stake for him to get this right and all he could think about was her warm, fragrant body, her soft skin and her lonely eyes. All he could remember was the world inside of her, inside of her liquid, lunar body he lost all control and felt reduced to an ordinary man, which really turned him on, this feeling of losing power. No magic of his own left, only her magic over him, her crying for more, like an angry kitten into his ear. He had no choice but to surrender everything to her purring prowess. This was a big problem and he pounded the earth riding Pan with a fury. The birds and the trees moved out of their way as he ran back and forth for hours, angry with himself for falling under her spell of innocent and raw seduction. She was so perfect because she did nothing on purpose. It was all a genuine response to him and unlike other women, she could pull him into her with one simple, soft groan, one opened, slender thigh, one flower in her hair…

She sat on the veranda daydreaming about him, sometimes in fear but mostly in love. Overlooking the valley of the Loom, she sat smothered in red and white scrupulous flowers, while he rode Pan, the invincible black stallion, like a demon for hours, never stopping. Pan flew on dark, invisible, electric wings too hidden to see and the Dark Sun churned out lightening and thunder from his awakened, blue heart. A great storm filled the sky as she sat and dreamed and grew wet with desire. A great storm finally broke spilling her, raining him, black envious lightening shot from death’s eyes. “She’s mine!” He screamed into the darkness, “He’s me!” She screamed into his rage. No other thing would do than the storm that now settled like a throbbing divine woman, over the body of the sky. The sky once red, turned to golden pink, now black again with streaks of violent light promising earthquakes and no return. Promising fallen trees and flowers scattered by the hungry winds. Promising his thunder would lift her like a wet spark from the earth. Lift her into his black, mountainous body of sorcery and blinding, rare love. Yes, a storm came between them, through them, over them. The magnetic bloodline reminding itself of the other. The mirror, the magic mirror, the scrying bowl where I find you watching me as I watch you from within my own storm. My love is inescapable, a dungeon of doom. And I love you darkness, I do.

“Abandon hope, all ye who enter.”

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I could have turned around but I didn’t. I could have told you what to do, but I waited. I could have done something, anything to stop the onslaught of this hopeless love. Love is the killer, not death. Can’t you see me opening my wings calling it you? Can’t you see what I’ve done? I’m the killer, you love me. Can you kill back, can you bare the evil crown? Can you commit to the shackles of the inevitable ending of you? Once you love me, you die me, you bleed me, you breath me, you eat me, you blink me, you become the sound of me. Once you become the sound of me, you get inside and you disappear into the mist of my eyes, you leak everywhere, you expose everything, you just simply go wherever my voice takes you. Deep so deep into the deepest pain, you’ll be addicted to me as a love that could find you, by calling the demon by his name, by not forgetting his groaning, by letting his violence destroy me, by abandoning even my own voice into the sound of his darkness. Who is death? I am, and I love you. Exactly as I find you, underneath me waiting to die. Love is the killer, not me. I’m just the knife.

Sharada Devi

tantric rainbow eating word lust

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I was thinking about unearthly things. Rainbows, are they real? Nice things to say so you don’t get mad at me and say I’m all washed up, dried up, dead floating wannabe fairy in the water. It’s sad, people are mean. I’m the meanest though, I ask for punishment all the time and I don’t know why. I mentioned it before, kind of like a disguised cry for help, but no one got it…no, you’re fine, just keep popping seduction and I’ll keep coming back for more…watching you (me) self destruct in an earth realm of unrequited love. I say to BD all the time, “it just isn’t enough.” He says, “what isn’t?” I say, “any of it, these experiences on earth aren’t enough.” And then pervertedly enough I realized my most intense experiences are my near death experiences. Like I want them, and they’re my deepest way to find this thing called love which we may misunderstand…or maybe I do…maybe it’s me- and me is love- like you is love- and then possibly we think we love each other when magnetically someone strikes a death chord in us that reminds us of ourself who is love, who should be near death as well- as maybe being near death is being in love? I think love brings death and death brings love. And don’t get me wrong, being a walking corpse isn’t fun, but I’m just saying, from objective self observation, these experiences have overtones like deep sexual longing, beyond physical gratification, but a soul scouring greatness that we can only describe as death and so we do…and people don’t get it because they’re shallow and satisfied with monotonous glamorous emptiness- and once isn’t enough for a deeper calling such as redemption -and so superficial sex is like a crime against a lost humanity…seeing as we do have this obligation to be the “one” don’t we? So, people are very afraid of me. I ask BD why. He says I’m just too real. And I think I’m not real at all. It’s all about sex, everything is- all these interactions where we starve and sigh and just leave the room one more time, it’s not enough this body as the thing you see…couldn’t you make me feel real? I could take a razor and drag it deeply down my arm, blood spewing everywhere and although there would be bodily pain, I wouldn’t even care or notice- I’m not real is why, and I’ve found that out more than once- and so how can you love me if you only want my body- because unless you can make me feel something real, I’ll just laugh or cry. And so BD says my energy confronts people- and it’s no fun because I asked him, how can I just stop it and be someone else- because you know, I ignore EVERYONE- I don’t ignore you because you’re heart is warm- but I ignore all the zombie cannibals- I could care less- they’re unreachable- I say a mantra and move on avoiding eye contact and holding my breath- not because I’m better but because they make me sick- literally- I take like 3-4 baths a day just to keep washing society off/ and it’s because of their astral filth – their demon sucking sex monkey ghosts that I get sick- that and their bodies smell very bad, my nose is sensitive like a dog- I don’t know why…and I can see too much…it’s disgusting the horror stuck to people all dressed up and deodorized.

I don’t feel like writing the story today…it’s just my moods…and you, you’re like waves that move in and out of my lonely soul…I see the bird on the water and then he disappears, it’s ok, I’m used to it. The problem with me is I’ve been on stage and screen too long- and it’s not even much but it’s enough for people to get hooked on my fantasy…Neptune is why…I can assure you the real person, me, when imprisoned by Neptune, will always disappoint you. The reason is I know hundreds of people and yet I have never been more alone- seen by all these people (and believe me, I don’t think I’m “famous”) since I’ve been with Bhagavan Das. It’s a prison of role playing, projection, expectations and I, somewhere hidden behind it all, am just alone. In an ice cave. And I get very hostile if I’m in a bad mood- I act out. I purposely shock people- which happens a lot – and I just want to escape and I blame BD- but his prison is even worse than mine. AND- most people who are nice to me- ass kissers abound- only do it to get to him. Nobody cares about me really, I’m just in the way- EXCEPT- for the screen fuckers and a few kinder exceptions such as yourself….but I considered my life over long ago- and since I’m “supposed” to live a long life I just wonder where the best corner would be to sit in and wait to die. I’m not real. There’s nothing left in this fake half ass hand job for me – I don’t need to be or act or feel “spiritual” it’s insanity what does it even mean? I can’t talk graphic sex? I can’t say fuck? Oh, it’s anti- holy- ?? I have to pretend I think yoga is some gift from God to create some omniscient toe touching gods and goddesses? It’s FUCKED UP. CANNIBALS EAT EACH OTHER. IM NOT BLIND. I KNOW. AND ITS ALL ABOUT TANTRA EATING RAINBOWS AND I AM THE FLESH EATING GODDESS OF THESE COLORS THAT EVAPORATE AS SOON AS I PUT THEM IN MY MOUTH SO IM MAD, LEFT BLACK AND HARD UP BECAUSE I CANT GET OFF ON THIS WORLD THAT SUCKS ME BECAUSE EVERYONES MOUTH IS A DIRTY BLACK PIT AND THERE ARE ONLY NASTY MIRRORS -ITS JUST TRUE-

*Except for you, you’re my sweetest friend.

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I’m a fantasy and I can’t keep getting smothered in images…and everyone has agreed, including my own cut up body- it’s all the Chod from my last life that brought me to now- why this all has happened, why I sacrifice myself as food, why I want to cut you up and feed you to the demons as well, it’s our only hope ok? True love.

You see, the strangest part of all, is I am your friend- like solid and forever, I will never leave you- despite projection and isolation and my revulsion for humanity- I am here for you and all your ghosts, all your voices who talk to me telling me all about you…my blood is your blood.

Ok. I’m crazy? Time will tell and Saturn’s on my side btw- I’m a big time Saturn worshipper. He’s my God he sits on the throne of my full moon and I obey him. He’ll kill me if I don’t- and that’s the marriage…why I love him so…could you be him? Wouldn’t that be a mess…I don’t obey ON PURPOSE. IM BORED AND LOVE FRICTION…but Venus makes me smooth enough to make it profitable every time. And Saturn loves Venus so much he let’s her do whatever she wants…because she’s hot and he’s bothered…get it? True love.

Speaking of fantasies,

I bet you guys think I have some special room or desk with a big important computer that I sit at being important and write this story everyday like it’s important -or I am -or the whole get up is -and I want to break the romance and say, I am not a writer, I am simply possessed. My words often sound crazy, but they’re true anyway. I don’t write, I only listen to the voices in the dark.
They wake me up, and I sit in the dark in the middle of the night- actually it’s 3am like clockwork every day or I lay there and I write nonstop for an hour or so- all the poetry, story and then I’m done- then when I have time in the afternoon, I correct the annoying spelling corrections my stupid iPhone made- yes, all is written on iPhone 6s- I hate iPads because they’re awkward – and I add the pics I have taken and it’s viola done. It’s not business like, it’s not romantic roll playing – it’s simply possession. I am a very good medium for trances, channeling, talking to the dead..seriously, it’s like my calling…god, they’re always calling too…so I have no stake in the game, I only have my soul being taken over by whatever, and so I like to see it as the ultimate tantra. Why? I don’t know, it sounds good. I’m not playing teacher, however, if you happen to need an answer to anything- anything at all, come to me and if I don’t know, you won’t even notice, because I’ll make it up, right there with full confidence on the spot. I’m clinically insane- well I haven’t been tested and I’m very responsible, efficient and organized- so it’s hard to tell until you dive a little deeper into my realm. The realm of rainbows. Yes. Tantra, eating rainbows. What did you eat? He asks, a rainbow I say. A rainbow from out of this world. Earth food is inedible for me. So that’s just how it goes.

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Bhagavan Das says it’s the dakinis or Saraswati or the muse who talk into my ear, it could also just be a troll, my dog is a troll he does nothing but lay, stuck like Velcro to his bag of food growling- he acts like my foot is a taker and so it’s kick kick kick the evil troll away…but that’s the relationship and he loves my foot violently but exclusively. I’m in a hurry today, but that doesn’t stop the voices, they don’t stop after the 3am shift, oh no, that’s just the start…and now, it’s gotten so bad, I walk around talking in weird poetry, like I write…

the guy at the health food store is like, “Do you need a receipt today?”

and I say, ” Why am I all alone, why am I empty, why is this paper wet with ancient tears?”

and he’s like, “It’s just a receipt.”

And I stare at him, voices going wild to get out, and I reply, “Touch me like a song no one else has heard before.”

And he says, “Ok. I can try! I get off at 8.”

And so I do this. It’s a possession. I cause all these messes, and create stalkers from ordinary people. It’s the WORD, it’s a tantric rainbow eater. ME. I’m a glutton on the alphabet and I need support, I’ve lost my soul in the word “soul.” I don’t sleep. I don’t eat. I just recite and even I know it’s not right…I am powerless over the forces that would eclipse me so that you could shine inside this devouring dark…SEE! I just snap into it…

I know. That’s the way it goes, the white blind light into you… Did you think about the consequences of coming to earth? Consider my words- once is enough, it wasn’t a real thing, but a dream with words… “I can hear you touch me.” She said, deep into the solemn night…”Touch me like a song no one else has heard before.” The sky was burning white, the flames flickered like a phantom wore the breeze…Sound is like a dripping faucet in my head and you’re driving me insane…dripping into this night all alone. Sometimes the words just twist in me as if I’m not even reading them or saying them….It must be you…Wooded thatcher…eating through my wooden body’s door…

except for my tail, I would have a head and that head would be you…Open wide, I hear the birds call my name but it’s only you…do you want inside?

Ok, that just popped out from nowhere. I’m not kidding. ITS TRUE. I’ve gone mad with word lust..

“If you would be tempted to own me, I’d turn myself into letters just to feel the inside of your mouth…”

Ok. You can see how desperate I am to control you by my word magic. It’s worked too, I made you feel. Even if it’s not nice you still FEEL ME BECAUSE I FEEL YOU. I HAVE NO MIND ONLY A HEART WITH AN ACHING MOUTH…which means I’ve successfully conquered this world of robots masturbating electronically to computerized sin and I’ve made you warm inside of us both. I brought blood to the surface. I am not from planet earth but I do feel the pain of you hungering earthlings. I was once hungry but that time has gone…now I’m just food. Food for you. Eat me…see?

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Swamp angel. Tantric slave. Rainbow rider. I got inbetween all your hot one liners and I know what you want…flower petals that endanger lives. A soft, silky open flower who is me, begging for my petals to be torn open, one by one, begging to be exposed to your flower kingdom of mystical light, the only light that knows how to feed the wet, naked flower mouth who was only pretending to eat all her earthling food until you came along and said,

“Have I got some mystical light for you, you hungry, soft, sexy flower. I get off at 8.”

Now hear the magic song…
Sharada Devi

THE WHITE HORSE part 31

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I have words, I try to write them down. They stop me, they wake me up searching for you in their meaning. How to describe, I’m supposed to sleep, they wake me up calling your name, Son of God. And I don’t even mean this as a religious discovery, you lifting children from water and putting them back on the shore. I mean it’s something personal like an eye color looking for itself in you. Your eyes. That sort of thing. I get mad. I get even. I get sunk. I get liquified. I get nullified. I get worn out for no reason at all except for this problem with words that won’t shut up, haunt me. Call him, hear him, make him matter. Of course you don’t understand, you aren’t possessed. I am possessed by words and it’s getting bad, taking over the night in expression instead of sleep. I can hear you too well perhaps, and what if I did? It means nothing absolutely nothing. I’ve been alive long enough to know, words are useless. Words are a useless waste of time. My heart should have better wings, more silent and lethal, better able to destroy simply with a glance rather than an entire page. Destructive, it’s my purpose. Breaking down the patches in your one dimensional mind. But I don’t, have a heart with quiet wings. I have words that sting and lull and fight back and cry for touch. Nobody cares. I know that, and still my eyes should find you in them hearing me and knowing the place where I find you is silence, truly silence and black. This dark bird in your eyes is lethal. This wolf is exposed to the dawn, his leg is chewed like death eating breakfast. This horse, my favorite black horse is afraid of the chasm. I’m hooked on your claw, I’m the hook. It’s a new moon which means someone is going to die in the next two weeks. Sure it might be me and so my words know, like a rarified prophet where to look for you as they must, to say, the oracle is dying to die, the child is dying to drown. The color of your eyes may go from blue to black to black to black and beyond enunciation. I might disappear trying to describe it all, into your silent look. Look back at me, prophet. I have been tearing God apart to say, to see, to find you in me listening to how many ways can I say I love you without actually saying it? To hide, hide somewhere warm watching and waiting to hear what you will say and do. It’s my charm, the rising snake speaking, night words, aching love songs. They won’t shut up. I say stop, it’s only three, they say tell him, tell him it’s night and I’m calling. It’s crazy, she’s wild, I’m in between these many worlds and I know the face that never changes, colors I mean. She’s always black and rapid and deducting. She’s always in love with his body. She’s always waking everyone up in the night with her bright writing light and the song is only I love you and she makes it more complicated because she’s wrathful and needs something to do, someone to destroy, something to mount. That’s basically what she’s doing, she’s riding in on this torment of words, cutting you all up on my floor, devouring you with every alphabet sequence, undressing you with her poetic eyes. I know you want me to do this, kill you I mean. Seduce you to death with these words and I’m trying…

but it’s late and I don’t even know if you’re home. But I lie here typing the dawn, not a pet in the sky, no flower or butterfly. Only darkness and sound. I make words waiting to die. I make love in the darkness of letters. You read me, and it’s my spell cast on you, she did it, not me. Lonely hearts call me and I hear them from inside of my own echo chamber. My own wingless dome, lonely hearts want blood. I know this. That’s what I’m trying to write, and do you see how long it’s taken? Words will destroy my peace. You need my blood, I get that. We’re all hungry, but you’re the one watching me, hungriest of all. It’s magical blood red wine, it’s in my veins. What will you do? Words aren’t even an option. My love, just bring me a knife and I’ll give you everything. Silently red into black and nothing but heart. That’s the chasm, the prophecy, the calling. It’s going to take a bloodbath, I know this. A violent silent slicing of eyes. Words, let me go now until someone loves me in twos…

two places only and I’ll leave it at that. It’s a sacrifice, it’s no sacrifice at all because I love you. That’s my words, my broken wings that vow to lift you higher than the force field of light, useless wandering gravity. No, you’ll be the roots of my soul. No, you’ll be the erotic razor of bliss.
Yes, I’ll be the blood that drains from the bath. It will be unwritten. Just for you, tender body in the silence of black hearts that throb beyond words…let me go, into you, quietly breathing for more…or there is no morning without you. Light.

Anyway, my words are only a decoy. Silently I’m going to love you to death and you know it.
The end.

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Of course he knew she was vulnerable and defenseless, her body and mind too weak to fight back. I know I said this was a love story but I lied, it’s so much more. It’s an unearthing. I will let you decide what that means as we go on. He knew what he was doing, he gave her the blood red magical wine to blur her reality, to seduce her with her own desires, to open her wider to him. All that had happened in the dark, the uprooting of pain would now have to be pressed on and squeezed by his love who must be a python. You may not understand how ruthless true love can be, but in the right hands it’s a vicious bliss razor drawing shapes in blood, creating new dream figures, moving back over the shadows with a bruising light that pushes deep, so deep into her she will writhe in unholy agony and beg for more, beg to be eaten by the shadows that took her in the first place. Such is the nature of poison. Sorcerers know that. You may think kindness and gentleness will save her but you’re wrong. Only a demon can lift demons and that’s all seen in the astral light, what to eat first, where her food is hidden. And one by one he will devour the darkness with his own darkness and he will free her from the shackles of an imprisoning, faulty light. The path of sorcery, the revealing of origin is treacherous, I told you already. And he knew this, but of course was undaunted, he was a skilled magician, sexually adept at destroying even the biggest demon of all, himself in her eyes. It takes two. It always takes two and he was willing to go all the way for the rare black diamond light of Venus.

We were staring into the eyes of eternity, each other. I being penetrated like a long forgotten sea, a sea that surrounds an island so remote it’s unfindable, and yet, his eyes probing deeply, this unfathomable place, found me there and became an anchor to some thing left floating, some part I didn’t even know. I was so lost in his penetrating gaze that I barely heard the fairy goddesses bringing food in on trays and putting a small table near the bed. “Are you hungry?” His voice broke the hypnotic silence as he filled my glass with more wine. “Yes.” I answered as I drank some more wine and I wasn’t even sipping it, I was drinking it like water and he didn’t stop me but rather, continued to fill the glass kindly smiling. “I’ll feed you.” He said as he lifted food from a tray and brought it to my lips, “Open.” he whispered, and I did, and he fed me over and over again until I couldn’t eat another bite. His fingers were soft against my lips and tongue, so soft I could have eaten forever, but instead I opted for more and more wine and I laughed as my body grew lighter. I barely felt a thing, pain of before I mean. Oh no, now I felt something even more urgent than fear, I felt the heat of desire. A ravenous blood lust heat that could only end one way, annihilation. I of course attempted to control it but it was almost as if he were instigating it, touching me too gently, tempting me to get violent, giving me more wine. Let me say, it’s not because I’m drunk either, that his eyes look like the source of creation itself, his mouth looks like a volcano and I want inside, his body is hard and shadowy, and it’s a mountain, a big mountain that I want to climb. Forget about birds and wild dogs, horses that fume. No, I’ll take the rock that stays focused, embedded in the earth, unmoving and determined to know me. I’ll take the animals too, I’ll take the ghosts and the shadows that bite, I’ll take a gun to my mouth and pull the trigger. “I’ll destroy you” I said just suddenly, for no reason at all. He had only just finished feeding me and I just decided to attack. “What did you say?” He asked laughing because I know he heard me and that’s what I’m saying about instigation. He’s really going to get what he deserves. “I said,” I responded, looking fiercely into his amused eyes, “I will destroy you.” “So you’re back for more?” He asked laughing knowing that although the blackening had been a massive purging of disowned memories, there was still the one inside remaining behind it all, the one who was raped by a dark man, just so happen to also be the one who was the dark goddess he loved and so he welcomed her upsurge, he welcomed her destructive, fiery eyes. “You just don’t understand the nature of rape or of the games gods play.” He said as he patted my head, “Drink some more wine.” And so I did. He sat in a chair next to the bed where I lay propped up on pillows. He sat mostly quietly studying me like he always does, while I drank the wine and grew more desirous as well as intoxicated to the point of hallucination. To the point that I was on fire, for him. “I don’t want to wear this anymore.” I growled like a kitten, looking down tearing at my shawl and he said, “Wear what? Me?” And I looked up as he stood over me wearing the mask of the dark wolf from before, and from this point onward, everything started moving really fast, furious even, so I’ll do my best to describe but forgive me if I ramble…

Ok…so, he then in one swift move, tore the shawl from my body, looking down on me like a savage as I lay there naked and wide eyed staring up at him as he hovered rabid and wild over my mysteriously writhing body in a room now only lit by flames of dying light. Then, from out of nowhere he spread open these huge black raven wings, the mythic wings that I had yearned for to cover me once again, the same dark wings that filled the room with deep shadow as he hovered over me in the bed. His face like the hungry wolf, his mouth touching mine like a wicked serpent, his pitchfork tongue looking for more. His dagger wolf eyes biting my hungry soul, his black, smoky feathers smothering me until I couldn’t breath. “Stop!” I’m dying!” I yelled into his wolf eyes and he suddenly, abruptly stopped. Boring into me passionately with smoldering red eyes, the black then began to melt from his wings until they became white and his eyes were blue again, blue like the sea and his tongue was a soft feather touching my wet, empty eyes. This was really confusing. “I think I’m too drunk.” I whimpered as he whispered into my ear, “You’ll be ok. Let me love you.” And I grew soft and opened at the sound of those words and he grew hard and dark and thunder roared just outside the window as he hung over me and began to touch me, I think, it was magic. This sexual chemistry was volatile and enchanting all at once, so that I was bewildered at the velocity of my response, the desperation of my passion. The pain of such ecstasy is a burden to describe. He may have touched me, laid upon me moaning, I may have sat on him churning, screaming for daylight. I can’t exactly say. I remember a soft tongue and a hard pushing, pushing away or pushing inside. You see, I can’t say. I remember the slickness of warm silk inside my soul spreading out for his arrival. I remember deep, very deep points of orgasmic light. I am sure he kissed me, and he’s kissing me still. I am sure his mouth took away any air or light I had left or was it me? Who ate, who sucked, who filled who with what, it’s hard to know. Wave after wave, death in the ocean, body smearing body, silver blood it’s him again. Inside the otherworld he found me, I’m sure we loved like that. The noises, all the animal noises. They all had arrived and waited for petting. I touched them all, even as they came back for more. I remember his smooth voice turn to warm gravel. I remember God inside of me. I remember wanting more and more. I remember feeling different when I cried out for daddy. I remember safe hands and I remember as I lay in a warm pool of him, wondering, “Is this love made of magic?” And in the end, I know I fell asleep in the tears of a black Venus with his white feathers stuck all over me….

That’s all I can remember. The Black Sun in me.

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I may be empty. There may be nothing left. I may be blank like paper, I may need you to fill me with something. Words bitter words that betray I think not. Tears of love promises that remain as weightless as I, a shell who is hollow. I watched her roll on the beach, beneath a wave, quietly filled and I thought of you. Could you be thunder in the water? I may be the force that drowns, and nobody even knew I existed. I may drown all who love me in an ocean uncrossable. I may be the weight that sinks you. I may be so deep, lost in a celibate love, a love all alone abandoned even by God. I don’t know, I may be a concubine covered in colors and men, I could be lost inside a smoky dream. There could be a fire, of course there already is, but I mean the fire you haven’t found, and that fire could be me. I may be broken in so many pieces, there is no puzzle left, pieces could even be missing, they probably are. I may be the tears cried for jesus, how he left me, stranded beneath him, I may be his blood, just a drop might be me. It could be because I’m empty and there is nothing left but this hum, this wind sound like a shell, hearing everything we left behind. I may remember you, in my empty fortress as the eyes that protect a naked god. But I doubt any of it’s me. I’m blank looking for something to fill me, any echo that feeds back the light I once held, in another world where I was never without you. And I can’t go on, not without you, my hollow song. A voice carries in the wind his crying to the sky, “Why have you forsaken me?” I laid there. I couldn’t even pray. I forgot all about God. There was blood all over me. All the lambs were dead. I hated every wolf. Can you see why I suffer, they ripped out my heart and ate it. Then they wrote a bible of lies, then they raped me under his last moon, then they shook me to death, and my flowers flew everywhere. Drops of his blood ache in my heart. My tongue is dry without you God. Why am I all alone, why am I empty, why is this paper wet with ancient tears? Why did you leave me, why can’t you remember me? I was the only one left while you hung, looking up I was the bird. The bird who took you to God. Why am I lying? I doubt I’ve ever been anything other than a plain field of grass dying for a flower. And you know, I don’t make anything up, even if you lost my words you would never lose my love, for it fills you with everything I’m not. Which is nothing without you…

because this cross that kills me is a jagged, cruel diamond and you are it’s vicious blood light. With every thrust of anger, betrayal even, I like to think of God and I cry God. And it all rubs me raw, emptiness and anger, this wrathful eclipse, until there’s nothing left and it might be me. The one taking the heat I mean, and swallowing even God and doing it all to myself like an insane moon. Eating death in the face.

Sharada Devi

THE WHITE HORSE part 30

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And there sat the one who never spoke a word and yet her word spoke volumes. Her name wasn’t anything, it was only a story and yet she held the mask tight to her furrow, buttons for eyes, “unbutton me,” she wrote, to him the only one she thought was alive. She sat in the field, like an animal while the flowers rode her back and she imagined him more, the only real part of her that nothing could find. The trees stood watching and the sound was silence, his silence the birds that hung still over her head, the light shook and nobody moved. “I think he’s coming,” she said to a flower and the earth smiled and lit up into song. Only she could hear. A maddening story, the horse that nobody wanted, invisible in the field and dying invisibly in the song. “Soft and dark,” she whispered like a butterfly nobody felt. The flowers fall and cover me until I carry them home, he is waiting like the trees and she knew, she couldn’t carry this invisible mask forever. “I would wear the black one,” she thought, he would know then what to do. “Bright, you’re bright, I’m tired of writing,”

…writing it down inside stars that move. The light points into the dark of now, unknown his throne of her in the sky. There would be no looking back, no cloud that meant more than the black burning star she rode wearing flowers. The white horse laid down and dreamed him again, for the lonely, yellow girl no one saw. And the story was that she was, a rare unspeakable bird and the idea was that he was her song broken open from tears. I do believe in tears, they brought me to you, the mask I would imagine could touch me, under the rain, inside the flowers while everything shook and my heart was alive only in his dreams. “But I’m real.” she thought as she turned the pages she had written. “But he’s real,” she thought as she imagined the tree would listen and absorb his body like rain. I could form a sentence with your eyes, I could see the sky and know you. Stormy, not gray but black made by me, midnight black and haunting my words. Words of mysterious, traveling love. As far as the eyes can see, he lifted me like moon vapor into the other world where I wrote you, she took me, under the world into this shadowy love. You knew me as I spread my wings and cried the world alive again. The other world, the blue sea dolphin world, the world as two bodies touch inside, inbetween, the flowers…I could touch you there. Wet with heavenly light, with stars that drip like pearls from moon water. I could hear you like the waves hitting the body of her. “They might say I’m death,” I whispered, “and they might say I’m you.” he replied…

he became as I cried into a cloud as white as his feathers. Dark Angel. Venus died. Her words found you, burying her body in soft mourning light, remembering me lost in the flower, written by you, the hand of God…I knew you loved me when you touched yourself and I cried.

A whole world was inside my head by now orbiting you as it’s mask. And I took off my face and you stood holding flowers like perfectly ruptured gods of light. And everything shook as I died in your arms.

In my story it’s all you, even the invisible threat at the end when nothing moves but memories, back into the forgetful sky, and I remember you forever as the only one I ever loved. As myself.

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As we approached the dark castle in the twilight, me hanging like a moonlit snake in his arms, delirious and yet lucid, like a bright dream he carried me through the winding paths of flowers and fruit, of wild birds and my simple white thoughts of him being Pan and me being loved, he yelled out “Enki.” into the empty sky and within moments Enki appeared slinking out of the shadows. “Enki, have her bath prepared in my chambers. Have dinner brought to my room.
Have my bed made for her as well there.” “Yes, master.” Enki replied and was gone. We walked in through the back entrance and through the castle we moved room by room, then as we approached the two spirals of stairs, one going down into my room and one going up, we went up. He carried me up the spiral stairs and we arrived at a large, gothic looking, black door with a big iron handle. There was a sign above the door that read, “All ye who enter here, abandon hope.” And we entered and a sudden hopeless love flooded every cell of my body for no reason at all except that I was with him in his room and he smelled like smoke from a fire. I could barely lift my head to look around as he carried me through his chambers and toward what was the bathing room. What I saw I can only describe as exactly how I experienced him. Black walls and floors, glowing from no obvious light source, just a pale moonlight sort of sheen as if there were opals hidden in the walls. The ceiling, walls and floor all aglow in a dim and bewitching light. The furnishing was dark, sparse and elegantly simple. A large, round bed with a deep red blanket spread across it, a small dark couch, a black wooden table and a chair. In the corner near a window covered by a deep red velvet curtain was a black, onyx scrying bowl filled with clear water and across from that a large ornate oval mirror. There were white orchids filling the room, and a large, polished black rock fireplace with flames going wild inside. Then, I felt a moon watching me, and so I looked up and saw a magnificent skylight etched out of crystal with soft rainbow light prisms swirling from the shine of the full moon’s face looking down from above us. His room was exactly as I would have seen him turned inside out. The room smelled like roses and lavender and that’s because as we entered the bathing room there were roses and lavender everywhere. Filling the white waters, there was a pool similar to the pool in my room but instead of a dragon on the pool’s edge, there was a giant white marble swan in the center of the pool with a hooded, black marble cobra rising behind her. They slowly circled as white water dripped from the cobra’s fangs and white water poured from out of the eyes of the swan as tears would. It was exquisitely poetic that even in my delirium, the beauty of tears and poison did not evade me, and what it meant, and how I saw him, struck me deeply until tears began to rise from my heart, tears I swallowed that I know he tasted as he looked at me and smiled without moving anything visible. I felt him inside as a white healing elixir. I knew as he saw me, that he saw me inside the mythic rain of the swan and the cobra. “Can I set you down here? Are you able to walk?” He quietly asked looking deeply into my eyes waiting for my answer as if my words meant more than they were. “Yes, I can walk.” I replied. And so he gently placed me on the steps to the warm white water pool and said, “They will be here to help you with your bath, but for now you can enter the water.” The sound of harps saturated the air as I slowly moved step by step into the water, the white water blanketed in luminous flowers and one by one four beautiful fairies appeared, the most beautiful ones of all. The fairies humming gently around the edges of the pool as I descended into it’s healing waters.

He stood watching her long, naked body moving gracefully into the bath waters and even now after all of this darkness had engulfed her, she was as radiant as any swan could ever be, she seemed to float with a body of skin that was lighter than even the feathers of the fairies. He watched her from behind as she moved down, thin and ethereal like an orchid waiting to be fed by the sun, he wanted to feed her anything and all of him. And as she stood alone surrounded by nothing, he heard her humming so sweet and innocent that he only wanted to die into her voice for all eternity. She had no idea of the mystical powers she so effortlessly held, no idea that he was her flower, her cobra, her devoted consort for life.

After my bath, the fairies wrapped me in a soft, white shawl made of cashmere. A shawl that went all the way to the floor. They brushed my hair and did not remove the diamond amulet, they put the oil of roses on my neck and the top of my head and that was it. I had no clothes only a shawl, like a blanket that covered me. I was weak, tired and hungry. My entire body was surrendered in a love I have yet to understand, but I’ll try by saying, I left myself like a bird and flew to the crystal ceiling and I watched him make love to me without touching me at all, with every light, every sound, every moment the ecstasy of his soul infusion, his ground beneath me, his heaven that lifted me and kissed away death. His eyes in the water, his hands upon the swan, his love for her body, his poison drinking her flower, his everything in the mirror of water, his muse in the crystal, my voice in his heart.
Until he touches me, I won’t eat a thing. I have no food, this starving lamb without him. Blood in the water, bitten by snakes, hard cobras wrapped around my neck, eyes that have raped me. With him, everything was gone. I stood gazing into the water as the fairies sang my song. When I heard the door open I turned and there he stood holding out his hand to me. “I can eat now.” I thought as I took his hand and he led me to his bed. As I sat on the bed, the fairies came from behind and more entered the room until there were at least a dozen. Bringing food, lighting candles and lanterns everywhere, pulling down the blankets for me, “You will stay with me tonight.” He said motioning with his eyes for me to lay back against the pillows.

He sat on the edge of the bed holding my hand just looking at me the way a mother would look at a hurting child. I felt so bare, exposed, more than a naked body, so painfully vulnerable, in a way so raw, I felt desperate. I didn’t know how to deal with these intense feelings he so effortlessly stirred from the depths of my soul. So I just exhaled and closed my eyes, holding back strange tears, I held his hand with both of mine and I stroked his hand as I inhaled his love. His love for me, although I was starving, was very disturbing, like a probe going deeply into places more comfortable to remain hidden. He was a sorcerer, and although at the moment he was to me, a man that I loved, I should not forget the seduction he is capable of. Myself being a virgin in white, myself being as black and worn as death, myself being as hollow as a flower with no fragrance, myself being as wet as the morning dew and as burnt as the fires of hell. “How could anyone ever love me?” I thought as more tears were swallowed. “It isn’t hard.” He said, “To love you Ambrosia. To swallow your tears as if they were nectar from the gods.” I forgot he can hear me. “Yes, I hear you.” “I hear you too.” I whispered inside to him, as lost as I could be in having no place to hide. “It’s alright,”
He spoke gently. “I’ve always known you.” And he handed me a glass of blood red, magical wine. Which, without any hesitation I began to drink as if I were in love with no hope at all. Hopelessly seen and heard in every dark crack and hiding place. “Abandon hope, your heart is mine.” Blood red wine. “Drink me all.” I heard him like a shadow in the crystal sphere. “Then eat me until there is nothing left. Then fill my hollow corpse wth your poison and tears. Then ride me straight into death my beloved white storm. I can feel you coming. Ambrosia, Venus who kills me.” I looked at him as I swooned, asking silently with my eyes, “Did I just hear you?” He replied with only deep silence, his eyes folding into mine until I saw nothing but the swelling sky, until I felt nothing but his rising thunder.

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I would wear the black mask. I would defy death by not stopping. I would love you to die quickly and forget the colors, even black. I would curse and scream and strip my eyes bare of fear, I would love you to become a face again. I would feel nothing only cool wind and handshakes, I would turn my smile into a skullcup drinking upside down the blood of your Jesus. I would love you just to taste his lips on mine. I would only run, I would never walk. I would stop from even sleeping. I would love you to be tired one more time, to sleep inside of you dreaming of God. I do not turn around. I know who is behind me. I would look for you there and go into God’s shadow. if your lap was warm and your eyes were inside me, I would never rise again, you would be enough to die for…

deeply white light, move into me.
I would love you there.
Sharada Devi

Hard. Shadow Eater

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 I am a Hard Shadow Eater. I made the name up. It works for me better than “such and such devi,” too much pressure to be pretty, kind, all those “goddess” lady like, soft pastimes that I just don’t feel…so it’s rough… and no white horse today alright, tomorrow I’ll probably be recovered…

and let me tell you more…

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yes, I do have tears, tears you can’t find. Tears for the storm I see coming, the rain I will have to become. Tears for tears you won’t cry. Tears for the  words I’ve given that don’t touch you, “I’ve fallen short,” I cry. I’ve given all I have and I never hid a word. You watch me from your silent screen secretly taking my soul without knowing, into tears you then cast back into me. I don’t care if you hear me, I’m the tears in your very own selfish heart. So don’t pretend like we’re the same because I cry for you like you’re God and you cry for you like it’s alll my fault.

Is this working…can you hear me now?

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I may speak of tears as words of decoration. I may cry out love as a way to seduce a stranger. I may churn out sadness from a place so deep you won’t know what I’m saying. I could be someone else and it wouldn’t even matter. It’s all a disguise, a mask chosen as words to weave spells over yearning lovers like you. Stricken without a disease, only longing for a fantasy such as me. But let me assure you it all came out wrong, my words, my alias, everything. I used to hate the snow but now I love it. Cover me in a white Hard freeze until I think I’m pure. Until I’m numb, as cold as you. Until I’m just a speck of lost white…

how about now???

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She said no it wasn’t optional, however his eyes were huge, striking back the clocks surrounded me, and he was the leader of them all. Some sort of fury outbreak, some sort of unhinged beast with a phantom of numbers he slid right under her belt like a soft horse dreaming away how it ran for a good reason, yes to be free from all numbers she said. I knew it was him though, the python with rules that always break, whips that always sting unvirtuous backs. Touching holy snakes, touching dark wisdom. She didn’t care what he said, he wasn’t real. He was a case of slivered eyes, peaking furrows, testimonies of how time is never long enough. I didn’t need a reminder that you didn’t love me, forever is long enough. My cold evil “tears,” the bridge I fall from, the death of moving over to the other side as if anyone is ever listening to her inner secrets instead of her inner thighs. I’m not stupid, everyone wants something, the same thing, sex and power and a rise to a new top. Weeds. I kill weeds like a cold I don’t need to have. You’re a liar, a Hard lust bone, a dumb dog as usual. But I’m the worst, a victim of myself, the bleak pull of it all. Flowers I tear out like hair for the insane, moon locks and rapists and cold leaving trails. Up my back, in my smile, a tail of a reptile. “Tears” aren’t much anyway if that’s what you’re counting on. I feel like a whore dipped in letters and words, for sale, like a desperate, discounted, out dated package of meat. Lamb blood, rare blood, the taste of blood. I could be bleeding. I’m not anything you’d imagine I’d be and so you beat me Hard like a steak. Isn’t that what they do. Tender meat, she’s not looking back at you either. Fuck your noose. Cowards should hang like an unnoticed moon, not me. I’m bright in the “sky,” giving you something and what have you done for me? Torn rings around my eyes? Well it’s not good enough, it’s not like I’m a party tray, an unopened bottle of wine that stunk anyway. Get back in your red hole and die. Go back to your red dog and die. Go back to your fearbag until I blow over, me the scary storm who knew you too well, call a parent, pat your own back for a job never started. Why bother writing it down I ask myself. It’s as useless as my “love” since nobody cares and only sees snakes biting and that’s no reason at all to imagine any of it is real. I thought I was, real I mean, but it was a lie, to myself who wasn’t listening, such a waste of time. The “tears” are going to destroy you and I’ll just let it all slide, ride, whatever. I’m just a bone, an excuse to leave a bad dream. If you don’t like my fucking story then move on. Hide somewhere else waiting to feel your own “soul,” get back striking hand, and hit yourself a little bit harder. Hit it Harder. Harder. Harder! You’re a liar afraid of the hole, afraid of the word, afraid of the smell of your own redemption. It’s a good thing I’m immortal is all I can say because humans suck the biggest dick I’ve ever see. Brainfuck, stop fucking your dream thoughts. It’s not nice to get wet before dinner. Oh I’m a cook as well, and that’s also insulting. So however you suck yourself dry, I’m still just a thumb you don’t want. Hell’s got my name written on it’s table of contents like I’m an unending disease, so you did the right thing changing your name back to earthworm is all I can say.

moving forward…

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Bhagavan das says I shouldn’t kill because I could get bad karma, but I do it anyway. I’m at no shortage for words if you haven’t noticed, but it gets old, sad even, I’m tired of myself.
I’m always hungry I just don’t like the food here on earth. BD is always trying to regulate my “Trip” He’s like “What’s your trip?”…blah blah blah. “I didn’t see you eat today. Did you sleep last night? Why aren’t you eating dinner? Don’t kill things you’ll get bad karma.” I’m like “Whatever dude. I’m trying to get off this planet anyway.” I know it’s bad, I’m a curse, yeah I get your point…I’m not some Christian/ Buddhist, sweet caring feather Hindu lady all swamped with your tender “heart” either. Honestly I didn’t write the story today because I would have had to be:

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“Love this, love that, moons, hearts, souls, oh his eyes…oh my beating heart, lots of flowers, etc.. all this shit that gets nauseating after a while. I’m not hoping for more, trust me. I get that my “tears” aren’t heard. Duh.

I don’t have any, I’m as dry as a desert bone, white and Hard just like you. I turn everyone on- it’s my only control- remember he said, “Once a stripper always a stripper.” Duh again. Geniuses abound. Oh I forgot, play “soft frail angel lady” for best results. Don’t threaten the invisible man. Haha. Wouldn’t you like that. Yes I hate fleas, ticks, mosquitoes blood sucking anythings and I kill them. I kill them good. I kill vampires and I really doubt “God’s” going to hold that against me. My dogs scramble under my feet like worshippers waiting for crumbs and I kick them. I kick them. Hard. You want honesty you got it. I suck. And kill. Hard. I complain because I call it clarifying. BD says “Don’t judge.” (he’s full of the rules believe me) I’m like…”Right, that’s a good one mr. police man.” This is all 100% true day in the life of me. Me, the Shadow Eater, too full, going to blow… Btw, get off your holy horse, I’m not “spiritual” so get off my back with the concerned “Namaste’s.” I hate that word, leave me alone. I’ll do it my way. The Hard way. I’m not holding any jurisdiction or massage parlor title. Ok? I’m just a guy in a rain coat on the side of the highway flashing Hard at cars going by too fast to see…it was a great loss, this scarred naked, soft body. What a waste of money, this soft animal skunk. I lay listening in the dark to a fan on high as my only sound of God. It is the fan, not I, who writes these prophetic words. My dog snores when she’s not sucking her feet and I go insane with rage/disgust and I can’t even yell STOP IT! because she’s deaf, just like everyone else. The night is long. Morning’s even a worse bitch- all up in my face shining, acting like I’ll never get it right. Whatever, you suck too/ you just haven’t written it down. Silent killer, you’re worse, colder than me. “Mystical,” yes me the God throb, fucks every word perfectly Hard and it doesn’t matter what you think or if you got off. I think of only myself and I always get the job done. Thanks for listening at least I say something even if it’s violent and starved for affection. I’m so real it hurts and that’s my biggest problem of all. Stop fucking my picture. It’s my black magic on you if you do. My tantric fuck curse on every limp pitiful dick who wants to get off like a slimy worm in a bathroom over a sink- or, I’ll let you decide as you look in the mirror milking mommy disguised as daddy ok? Oh mommy mommy mommy…I’m just sayin’ …add it up.

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“It’s the mirror.” PROFOUND. Yes, I’ve heard that. Yes, thanks, I’m really fucked up…

reflections of me I presume?

“I’m just a mirror.” (BD famous words)

if you’re just a mirror then WTF am I?!

God it hurts,
Sharada Devi

THE WHITE HORSE part 29

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It was hot and so the room was open all night long, and before the sun I heard the birds and I rose before the dawn. Then your golden fingers
saw me rise and touched my lonely hair. The light broke from a pink and shattered sky and the sun smiled into my eyes. The rays of red, the morning hue, dancing streaks of gold upon my morning floor, all I saw was you…in the promise of the coming moonlight now that day has started, in the birds that call me from the treetops just outside my door. From the vivid
way you touch my skin so early in the wakened sway, of moving the dance inside of you, my swelling heart that rises over the morning and sees the flowers trying. The little flower just near my body opens with no fear at all. The light is coming, even the ghosts remember the shine upon the morning wall, and even they curl themselves around my body waiting for you to touch the face of God, as this yearning love arises…the way the light shimmers upon the leaves that dangle, the way I see the sea is everywhere swimming, in the eyes of air and pain in the mouth of music.

Then you whispered without a sound, from far away you said, “From the dead I rose just for you.” And I said without speaking, “I know, my flower has a face. My heart has a broken light. My body is bruised by a thousand goodbyes.”

And I heard you like a hand on my soul drawing hellos like the birds that fell before, “I only have wings for you.” But you died and you left me. But you leave every night and I’m desperate…

the sun sang daylight into me, and I never forgot your face through my window, your light in my dawn, your seamless surrender into my slumber,
your death wish for me to awaken.

And so I sat in the crimson light while the blood of life dripped like honey from your mouth, as the birds that love me from branches not too far…as the reachable moonshadow, as your body covering mine as if the darkness had to go. As the kiss of light upon my lips of dusk…

It’s ok because I’m drinking light and the sweet nectar of your tears as the light that trickles through my open morning door has made me who I am, the unrequited moonlight in your mystical dying, it’s this moment of me you must touch in the twilight before the sound or anything else living but us,

broken animals on the floor, without light I moved you into me, the rare noon shadow, the bloodless eclipse of blue seance love.

And everyone heard the beginning as God shining in the sun, but I always knew it was you coming back from the dead to find me entering the portal of morning…

looking for you in the sky way beyond the one carrying clouds, but the sky that only holds me. The one that wants only me. The one that sees only me listening for your feet…walking toward me upon the water of light.

If I don’t make sense, you never loved me then. If I don’t move you then there is no light, there would be no God at all…

unless I were drenched in you.

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He sat watching her, letting her be all alone under the tree with the horses. She lay between two bodies of primal purity and as he watched he could see her being infused with their essence. He had brought her here to be healed and strengthened, to put back into her what she lost in the pain. The memories of before and all that had surfaced like poison from her wounded soul. He knew the wrathful action of this cleansing could be treacherous, that he might bring her too close to the brink of annihilation, the kind where there is no turning back into the light. But he knew her, he knew more about her than she knew about herself. He knew what blocked her from her own primal essence, the embodiment of her own Venus light. The torment of watching her starving and listless, suffering and beside herself in the pitch black suffocation of these demons, was unbearable and yet he endured the process for her. He watched over her, protecting her with his own body of light, holding her up from sinking when the demons surfaced looking for food. This was only the beginning though, scratching the surface of those riches below, the poison that destroys and yet also fuels the ancient wisdom. Unless you are a sorcerer, you cannot understand the path of initiation. From the outside it would seem other than what it is, and on the inside it just feels like death and dying, but she had come this far and as he look at her lying between the horses, deflated and hollow he only wanted to fill her with himself and yet he must keep his feelings from interfering with the work.

The sunlight shone through the flowered red tree upon her and even now she appeared as a swan. A wondrous, sacrificial goddess of love that belonged to only him. It wasn’t over yet, but she would need strength to go on and so he would move her into his mystical light and feed her his penetrating love until she was able to move once again into the mythic shadows of God. Beneath the flowered red tree as the sun fell upon the three bodies, he was overcome with love as he watched her, so weak and yet clinging to life in the form of Ceres and Pan, the two inseparable mythical creatures of all that she was, inside the realm of earth magic. To the stars he would take her, inside of himself, the beloved chariot of the savior as the Dark Sun, the lord of the Loom. He would feed her himself as the dark light of love.

As I laid naked and warmed by the sun’s light dancing through the tree, casting shadows of it’s flowering branches upon the cool earth of flowers and leaves, inbetween Ceres and Pan, I was infused with an otherworldly force. Life began to enter me and spread as an intoxicating bliss throughout my fragile body. The power of Pan’s black, sleek skinned body softly pulsing against me as an invincibility not bound by the flesh and the motherly grace of Ceres soft, white light surrounding me in an unconditional love beyond words, made me feel so safe, as if I would always be cared for no matter where I was, they were always with me. This is the promise of kindred souls. I believe we have been together forever if only I could remember…but for now I would accept the unknown, I really had no choice but to surrender to the Dark Sun at least for now until my strength returned. Ceres was silent in her caring while Pan never lifted his muzzle from the crook of my neck breathing hot air into my starving skin. I inhaled new life from the black and the white. I let go of any hope or fear. I became as still as the setting sunlight that now rested gently on the warm earth and I absorbed his eyes into my body and soul, the eyes of the Dark Sun upon me, as I felt him just beyond the red tree loving me silently, secretly opening my heart to the yearning of his body, his body that would strengthen mine by it’s very own desire for me to live inside of it as timeless love. And I knew, and I felt as any witch would, that something was stirring from the sacred depths of the black and the white. That the sun would soon be covered by the moon so that she could live by his secret light and then the sun, tortured by her seduction of light over his body would consume her until she disappeared. This is what I wanted, because I knew, with my astral perception, which was only getting stronger somehow, that he wanted me just as badly as I wanted him. Yet, I understood that he had an agenda that was not totally clear to me. Why would he want to kill me for training? I don’t know and honestly, I was eclipsed by the light of the Loom and it really didn’t matter to me anymore. I would happily die into him if that’s what he wanted, if that’s what it took. His body was to me, an entire solar system of yearning and the magnetic pull of his soul, me into him, was unbearable as long as we remained separate. I have no idea what I’m saying or doing, I have no idea how this will end. I only have Ceres and Pan and this mystical love. I only have him carrying my body in his arms into the light. And as I lay between the two radiant bodies of what I can only say are gods to me, I heard him walking toward me and my heart grew warm inside my chest. He leaned over and looked at me, as if studying my condition and then he lightly smiled, his eyes twinkling gently. “I’m going to take you back now.” I didn’t respond I just kissed Pans neck and then I rested my head on Ceres hoof as a tear fell from my eye, “I will see you soon.” She said in my head and Pan snorted as always, in a tone that I knew by now and it meant, “I love you.” “I love you both as my very self.” I said inside my heart and then I looked into the eyes of the Dark Sun as he lifted me into his arms, against his strong body and he began to carry me back inside. I rested my head on his shoulder, he was so close in a way different than before. I could smell the skin of his neck, I could hear his breath in a way that felt like my own, his heart was beating inside my chest, at least that’s what I felt…then, when we were about half way back he stopped beneath the dying sun and he looked at me so softly as he gently pushed my hair out of my face, and then with his eyes nearly touching mine he whispered, “Are you ok?” His soft voice, his soft eyes, his soft hands, his soft lips…his soft love. I melted in an entirely new way, a death that felt like the most permanent of all. The death of love. “Yes.” Said my eyes.

Soft like an angel she rode in his arms back up to the gothic castle, the Loom. He would keep her with him for awhile, try on some erotic masks that in the end were only see through. Eyes, her eyes, like a swan under water, pure and tortured by what she’d seen. Her eyes held no mask up, and her vulnerable openness as well as her thoughtless bravery only made her all the more ravishing as he carried her, lightly breathing, trusting him who would kill her, back inside where he would take her into his room and love her back to life. This would be the culmination of the blackening and the movement into the phase known as white, and it wouldn’t end there, and if she endured she would rise once again in full splendor as the herald of the dawn, his beloved Ambrosia, food for the gods, the gods who eat sweet light. The darkness, even the darkness couldn’t taint her purity, it only made her deeper,
like the ocean, only sadder the further down you would go to find her, sadder and deeper and further down into her he would go and he would lift her, his precious flower, as the luminous holder of all grief, as the sacrificial lamb of God. He would hold her up unto the eros of blue light until she hovered above him, sparkling as the Queen of hearts. Purity comes from dying into a light beyond yourself. Something greater than the spiders that eat us in black, something more fragile than the naked, white child Azalea, something deeper than the loss of innocence, is the only something I can call God inside your eyes of salient blue. Diamond, you are my soul beyond dying, I have only you to kill into me, the bewitching thing that never dies, the lifeless fairy floating in the water is me, my eternal love calling for you, my siren song. I would lose my wings and drown for you to breathe into me again. Dark Sun, I shall not perish as long as you hold me, the dying angel into your mystical light.

and so deep into the moon of night they would go together to touch the face of each other’s sorcery…

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I’m going to write something so beautiful for you, you will break open your body looking for my voice, hoping your soul has heard me making love to this body of tears and dream rain. And if your soul still hasn’t heard, I will tear you open myself looking for the one who calls, pretending they haven’t heard my lips moving from the sun into the moon. Blue Eros, beams of torment is the light without you in it. So I’m going to write these words somehow until you lift your eyes with only me above you. As everything, even God. I don’t mean to be selfish but I’m taking you home with me, back to the holy star. Soul, you stir mine like a rainbow buried inside a dove. Soul, you bury mine like a black piece of electrical mourning. Soul, I want it all, the erotic semblance of touching empty into eyes that feel, the consequences of these words. Me, I might see me then if I try. I’m dying for love and there’s life inside this body of rapture. Soul it’s this sacrifice of me that kills the pain of without you. I would try with my words to tie you to me as the earth is tied to it’s rocks. I’m saying you can never go. Heavy soul, I love the pain that makes you warm and misty. Nothing as free as light but as captive to me as my heart is to my lonely body. I’ve done this for you. Beloved prisoner of me, soul who bleeds my light.

I suffer to know you.
Sharada Devi

THE WHITE HORSE part 28

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He said to me, “Where do you come from?” And I said, “From the stars, from the candle, the candle of God that drips into a constellation deeper than her blackest night. My star will find you there.”

I called into the light as if he were the shadow rocking me back to sleep…then,

I had a vision of a little girl and my head was coming out of her mouth. What do you think that means? It might mean I’m dead and she took over this lyric…

Before he takes away he gives and gives. Anything that I might want and also anything that I may have forgotten… so my death was more like a birth, the opposite of weightless. He’s tired but he leaves in the night when I’ve finally stopped shining and he makes her take the scars into the daylight without him. But he never really leaves….she’d imagined he didn’t want to face what he’d done. He didn’t want her to see who he was. He wanted only to hold her, to smother her in his tears of regret. Regret he had to go away, forgetting her one more time.

Bringing diamonds, it is she who swallowed his eyes and waited for his collapse. “We’ll see now how the sun rises.” She said shining deep into the midnight sky. Your job is to sit there and to live and to breathe. The problem is he lost his breath. I change my mind very quickly just like the moon changes eyes. He doesn’t leave the one who left him, he gets inside her eyes, he crawls right in crying. I knew he was a long hot storm. I knew he was a quiet one dying to go home. It’s only words that make everyone matter. Gravity in your head, sad goodbye. I miss anything I leave even heartache…

“But someone’s got to go.” You said opening your eyes. Your chances are over, way over the rainbow of his heart, left dying as a fusion into you, born in his head a new kingdom. There’s a lot of air. A lot of ways to look at things, dying or being born. Kiss my eyes that’s all I want. Kiss my eyes. Let me see you in them breathing, me like the light of you, you remembered, the tears of my diamonds. At this stage it would bring the unhappy into your heart, and who ever goes to Krishna anyway…I saw the knife when I could not find a friend. “I love you.” Said the blade as it tore, open the wound that already gave, him a blowjob, him a best friend…”This will be a long goodbye.” I thought when I knew he had weapons that killed and not just a flute or a flower that drank up the voice in his head that said maybe she’s a trap. A paradise trapped in sin, eagles as wide as a guilty death. I sang the night off drunkly because I didn’t care. I was his.

The only feeling left was me actually. Pain isn’t even a word to be honest, it’s the loss of control you couldn’t face. Her moment of you. When the seed dropped. I couldn’t figure out what you wanted until I looked into your eyes. Me orgone as a sunspot, fucking outer space like a demon who forgot where the animal hid, looking for you. Seed all over my face. Breath, life giver, lover, angry thread. I grew you before you knew me. I made you rise and move into this night. Me who brings it all back, wave after wave, screaming hot body of stars, cut up like paper on the floor of your room, the long slow goodbye, entering more of me. I touch myself and pretend it’s you. I touch myself and I wonder, is it real? Dying is so depressing, why won’t you quit lying to yourself.

She isn’t there, death is in the wind and nobody turned around. Pretend you aren’t in me, liar. It’s my wind. I know everything. I am the one you touch until you break and the sky falls, seeds from heaven like death are all over my face. Eyes into me.

We went to this house where they were having a happy face party, trillions of swollen happy faces everywhere, it was disgusting. All the lust in their smiling eyes, the morbid calculations. Pornographic mind drip. It’s a true story, I took some pictures for proof just to be safe and we left…smiles, ourselves filthy clashes of lines looking for a soft spot. I know it’s not just me. Mind warp dead fucker ghost. Quit eating everything and lying.

“Just touch it.” You said, “It likes you.” So I did the only thing left to do, I drew a happy face on the tip and waited for it to explode in a big, loud smile of course. Blood all over the house, happy faces of me, blowing fuses until all the lights died, even you. That’s my candlelight, wax figures, that’s the trouble with all the things that lie to get what they want. It’s not a word liar, I’m a thing and I suck like a brain. Yes. Feed me, whatever I wrote would be fine. Fuck your cold balloon. Krishna Keshava Pahimam.

What can you do, you did the right thing, now you’ll explode like wildfire…wildflowers.

Whatever. Everywhere I reign supreme. You can’t tell her to stop because she can’t hear you. Remember my tears, diamond fury. I keep changing bodies. You’re the one who pisses me off and I go off like a volcano, or was that you…I’m on top regardless, until everything dies and every body stops moving, even air. Whatever, nothing lasts forever oh, I forgot. They say diamonds do…but I’m going to hurt you much better than that, the shine.

Everywhere I go, wtf did you just say?
That’s me. Diamond Moon rapture,

Send her? Where would we send her? Yes you’re a liar and you’re going to pay with your life. He responds by stopping me or by hunting and it’s all useless striving. My love is that kingdom you thought up in your head. I’m all yours now, remember? You said, be mine. All night and I did.
I have to end somewhere…it’s not another poem. I kiss the ground for you. Every time I go down looking for the heaven I left somehow spangled in stars that collide, nasty sheep always counting heads and never getting it right, go back to sleep, nobody cares. She’s unfit for human consumption anyway…

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I thought I had died. I stopped eating, I wouldn’t drink, I didn’t move or talk. My eyes were blindfolded and I didn’t care. The darkness came and took me back, I’m dead and they don’t matter. There was no night or day. Enki tried to carry my body into bathe it and he dropped me so I bit him, it was the only sharp thing I had, my teeth and he deserved it. That was the last thing I did, my corpse bit the snake’s body. He yelled as I bit and he swatted at me like I was a fly. That’s what I felt anyway, that I was a dead fly.

I stopped moving anything after my last revenge, and I became dead weight for him, the Dark Sun who followed me everywhere watching in my head, in my heart, always there behind me observing how the darkness eats dead bodies, mine and how the pain was only a wave that didn’t matter once the big one took you. I didn’t scream I only sank deeper and deeper, my death where I fell. I lost my love, he had nothing for me just another fitful snake to tunnel through my invisible hole. I need nothing. And I stayed like this and I was fine while I faded into the images that had eaten me. My father, all of it. My grandma who I had betrayed, who I would never see again, my mother who was only a bird and myself who was nothing but the feathers of them all. I don’t know how much time passes, there was no day and night there was just this tunnel where everything had hid until now. Why would I bother you with my graphic nightmare, hell images, it’s all futile, this emptiness killing itself in the only song and dance it knows, my worthless hollow body too dead to hear you anyway, too dead to reach for the light, too numb to feel his protection surround me while I surrendered to the ghosts of my own private hell. I was very weak and soon would be leaving even the sound of his breath. I must let go of it all and this was my only though as he sat watching and although I knew he heard and he saw everything within me, I stopped talking, thinking, nothing left to give. I just hung blind and limp from the bed. I guess that was all he wanted. To watch me die and go dump me in the swamp with the dead floating fairy. I remembered his eyes even then, he killed me but this love would always haunt me. The confusion of what it meant or was, the unfulfilled desire, all gone and my breath only grew weaker.

I was whimpering for the God of death at this juncture, it might have been weeks, when I saw all the hidden animals of the forest coming towards me from out of the shadows with big bloody fangs being led by the blood drinking spider lady covered in wasps and my sweet, pale pink flower Azalea was holding her sticky, wicked hand as a swarm of flies formed a black, buzzing cloud around us all. They were both laughing at me and pointing at my limp, transparent corpse. I, not even proud enough to be dead, but just stuck, defying the peace of death, in the invisible stained jar of my mother. When suddenly I heard myself cry out into the room, the first sound I’d made since biting Enki, “Pan…” actually, I whimpered, not even able to cry, “Where are you?” And I felt tears all over me like hot, salty water as my body was submerged into the final fever. “Ceres, is that you?” I called inside my feverish head, to a cloudy white light as it hovered. “Grandma..?” I gurgled into the filament blackness, bewildered by the old lady who died in her sleep that fateful night, now just a ghost haunting me in this bleak, telling tunnel. The lies I kept telling, it all seemed so real. I was burning for it now and this must be the devil’s fire. I accepted the flames and as I became hotter and hotter I began gasping for air, losing breath. I barely fought for the light, I was going to leave you all behind. And as it finally grew even too dim to see, there in my head a bright light broke forth and from the center of a five pointed black star I saw his emerging diamond eyes, the Dark Sun flaming brightly, intensely pushing into mine. I said as a final goodbye to him then, straight into his mind unafraid and I said with certainty, “I’m sorry I wasn’t enough. I will always love you. Please find me again.” It was then that I passed into the kaleidoscope’s throat at full throttle, with the out breath I went, breathless, dead to my life. There was a pull, an arm of dark gravity that just wouldn’t let me go and as I spun, inside some large sharp star, “Let me go, it’s over.” I thought fading into a blur of dim memory…and just as the blade of the fifth arm was approaching, I heard him yell, from his world, not mine, “Enki! Bring me ice and water. Come!” The next thing I knew I was blanketed in ice and freezing. My heart slowed down from the speed of thumping in my throat. I felt his hand untying the blindfold, I felt him lifting my body, I felt him carry me. I heard him whisper into my ear, his warm lips I felt inside my failing heart, “It’s all over, the past, it’s all gone.” His body was so strong and mine was so weak. What had he done to me, watching me die, was he taking me to the swamp? I lie collapsed, skin and bone in his arms as he carried me like a child who weighed nothing. Through the Loom, I never opened my eyes I just listened to his heart and his breath, I just felt his love pulling me from out of the deep hell I had fallen. I was shaking and cold and then…I heard him breath in the light….I felt the sun shine upon my dying…

I inhaled like it was a miracle and then I magically began breathing again as if our bodies had become one beneath the sun. He was still carrying me somewhere, it was warm outside and I heard birds and the sound of the river. “Ambrosia.” He whispered into my ear, “Open your eyes.”I had to obey him, and so I slightly opened my eyes and then more, until I saw through the disappearance of my death haze, a large, fertile tree next to a flowing stream of silver water, the tree overflowing with giant red flowers hanging like starlight, the red sun shining through its limbs in beams of golden pink, the birds sung from it’s branches as the perfume of flowers filled the sky and he said, “Ambrosia I brought you here.” And there to my shocking joy, standing beneath the tree wrapped neck and neck suspended in mystical love were Ceres and Pan gazing like gods in my direction. I began shivering in my desperate love for these creatures. I wanted to jump from his arms where I lay draped like a dead flower and run to them, but I couldn’t because I was too weak to move. He whispered into my ear, “Don’t try to move. I’ll take you.” As he carried me over I could hear Pan snorting and feel the light grace of Ceres and as we approached the tree and he laid me down beneath it on a blanket of soft, cool red flowers mixed with crackling leaves, I was flooded with indescribable bliss as he knelt over and wiped the wet hair out of my face, looking decidedly into my eyes he stared as if he himself were the daylight, and he smiled at me. Not a smile as if I were a joke, a smile as if he were my friend. And I smiled back as I exhaled into his sapphire blue eyes. Then I heard him silently whisper into my soul as he took both my lifeless hands and kneeling over my naked wet, skeletal body he told me, “Give me everything. Your pain lives in me and I will hold you as my perfect flower until the end of time.” And as he said this a wave of light washed over me and I became filled with him as if we made love in that moment with no bodies at all. “My soul.” He tenderly said in the silence as he swam into my eyes as tears and he never let me die. As all the shadows left and the memories disappeared. Until there was only his soft smiling watery eyes under the red tree where I drained into the earth like the rain so that other things could grow. I heard a snort, I felt her mother heart as Pan and Ceres stood above us and our souls became as one. I was overcome with love. His love as he moved away and sat beneath the distant sun watching me as the light slowly faded and I was engulfed in both the black stallion and the white horse of God who lay on either side of me swooning into the promise of twilight. I couldn’t yet move but I touched Pan’s body, taut with electrical fury and power, I felt him nudge me and rest his chin on my chest infusing me with his indomitable spirit of courage as Ceres lay on the other side spreading light over my fading disease. The poison he conjured and brought to the surface, the poison of me he then drank as his own. Ceres motherly essence gave me strength from the depths of pure, untainted light. I felt her concern and I heard her say to me inside my mind, “Dear girl, the blackening is over. You will not die. Initiation brings the dawn. And as the light secretly rises, Venus begins to shine.” I barely remembered, but for some reason, the twelve moons were floating in my mind, and as she read my thoughts she answered, “The twelve moons are the storytellers of the entire sky. If you listen you will know and the child Azalea and the wicked woman of wasps are merely the semblance of the broken moons within you.” I really didn’t understand logically what she had said but deep in my heart the pieces were fitting. I was entwined in these horses with the Dark Sun overseeing it all, and as I lie breathing in the flowers beneath the warmth of the sun I heard Pan in my head as imagery, which is how he always talked to me.  I leaned back against his strong, warm body and listened to his thunderous heart as he showed me an image of myself as black as his heavenly body and as gold as the risen sun, riding him into the tunnel of death with no fear at all. I sighed and said silently, “I love you Pan.” As he snorted and fumbled lovingly with my hair.

I felt him, the Dark Sun, as he watched me from not too far away. I felt him circulating inside of me as a new sea of water and light. Strength, protection from the demon who stings. I could smell his cool neck like a tree covering my fading white body, and even on the brink of my death, as weak as I was, after seeing his diamond light eyes, I only wanted him inside of me as fire and fury, because I knew now what I did not know before. Some things never change…his eyes in my soul seeing without any pictures or words, seeing me like nobody else ever did. With no face at all he knew my heart like it was a song that was perfect just as it was. Like he alone could grow flowers from fear and turn my pain into moons that stop spinning. “I need you.” I said into the light.

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I am a collapsible body of living white light. Imperishable, shining from the center of the angel star. Moon circle drawn in bleeding spider webs and little girl rain drops, someone is certain to know where I left you, finally at the end of the well rounded fuck. Round and hopeless, just another fantasy goddess. Dark, dressed as sexual doom bringing lips of awakening, always the one who must carry the tilted black sword. But it’s tiring, being a man in a dress with a dick that outlasts even my kindest of plungings. It’s a loop, a lonely hole of pretend. You’re just a paper weight or paper shredder trying to read what doesn’t matter anyway, we’ll all go with fear as our mistress, she’s the slut, she’s the liar. I don’t play roles or put on heavenly faces. I am trickery laced with God’s perfect knowing, you. I am a slender oracle fallen to earth as the one causing trouble, heartache for those who still have one. I’m just paper drawing words on itself for you as eyes turning inward looking at the sun. In charge, controlling you all as the orange, wounded flowers needing sunlight and a mother who knows where the pain goes once it’s swallowed and no one can find you but me. My stomach. It’s me, not a dream but a sacrament. Immortal I rise unprotected letting everyone in as a spectator of my grief. My grief that you’re not real but a dreamer baby, dreaming me whether to love or to hate your new mommy. Nothing new ever happens just this song, the slow burn of the loneliest song of all. My song. The beauty of my reaching tears as words, goes unnoticed but by God and always has…

You just want to fuck me like a demon who can’t find his eyes. I am not a dream fantasy fetish,

I’m not a snakepit of romance and I’m not the little lost lamb of your God. That’s all. So who are you and we, without each other? And it’s not “her” it’s nobody, all playing someone with my eyes for you and your unheard tears. Your song written in my heart is divine, the sound of me inside you seeing myself in your eyes of blue mirror. Mine goes unnoticed unheard, you should listen where it’s too deep in the outside song to be as loud as I pretend it to be, just for you. But by me, the you who kisses stars back to life from the brink of dull suicide, I stand alone spinning out frail flowers like the perfect heat of breath because of this summer of love I can’t leave while you’re still hurting in the shallow moon water…deeply I shall go, I shall dive into your blue mirror pool and sing your song for you, back to you, my halo has risen from out of nowhere into our love called nobody. White light. Halo, I hold you always up high. A jewel of heaven much higher than me, you are my hidden sunlight, my very becoming, my treacherous journey away from my star splattered home in the sky far away….won’t you find me hidden inside of your heart waiting to know I’ve been heard? Tears are where all rain comes from and why the pale precious moon flower grows between us as more than me all alone. Unseen. Felt only as yearning for invisible entrances into places holding lonely shadow songs. No words can dry the light that falls looking for the seed. My flower god,

she is not a dream, she is the birth of dreams.

Sharada Devi