When I truly dream on Paradise for me, how few faces accompany the vision! None of them recognizable! Here, an unendurable tenderness-- leechlike affections, very like modern art. Empty souls gyrating with a sound of suffusing suction! Wanton in their emptiness, their excessive lack. What sold-out paucity. Inhibitionists sacrificing the spinning wish to live! Mourning doves hop from my head to eat out the eyes of these remorseless sycophants. Trapped by a desire-- they know nothing of how to desire reality for themselves... Ah, my petite soul! How conjugal thy green dance. Come, swirl your cherry scarves around me! We shall play at spitting on these faces!
. . . . .
Shattered lilies on the abstract faces
Poor bastard! I shall wear your skin-- as a victory and a celebration! You have stripped it off as a drunkard strips off moderation. How jealous of God's spotlight ached St John! There is a willing divinity--- as real as any pig sacrifice in Tahiti.
. . . . .
Angels possessing cowardice! You too!-- I have felt it-- wings delicate and oily as a fly's, shivering with the anticipation of some heavenly visit-- the recorded face of a little girl at the instant of death; the very moment when she threw herself on the tracks to save the family dog. These are the fetishes of good spirits.
I myself am hurtling down the same track, my eyes magnetized by my eventual death-- a death totally without salvation: For I have seen the glorious angels and stood among the hive as they communed with their Creator. My hanging heart, hungry with righteous appetite, has been caressed by the Supreme Hand, altering its tick-- but still I refuse to believe in them; I won't stick by that dirty crew! Not I! Not that lot!
Still, heaven is open to me. Its razor azures. Just the thought of falling in love stops my heart.
. . . . .
The watered loves of salvation. Again! Again these symphonies disrupting restless dusts. How long and how lovingly I longed to be a corpse! Let the roses close over my eyes-- how shyly! Simply the moon's light leaks into the tomb, my arms crosswise, awaiting the heart's cool command to cease. My nostrils shudder at the other corpses; morose disfigurement gnarling the stone. Even in death I am a snob! To have given as I gave: this face to this time! Horribly, I held her hand. I mewed, "I love you." And at this, at this her vailing virginity lapsed! No heroic soul melted between us. Monstrous Beauty! Chaste hands held and licked like cold-cream. How tender were the lies we steeped each other in! Disingenuous lust, dispirited genetalia. She, too, was dead. Her eyes died when I licked the tears from her face-- and laughed!
We are so immemorially close! In the velvet afterlight of burning decay, how solemnly her lips beheld mine. Bridegroom to spent darkness. Avidly, vividly, licking. Night, night, my own most especial despair! Unwrap the spirit this cellophane traps! Extend my nauseousness to the masses! Sick, and in infinite hope infinitely despairing, I extend my tongue to your bootsole... I weep if I can touch one discarded object of your hatred!
Mysterious Heart!
My words are nails!
Useless nails!
What a Satan I truly am!
From the collection "Adoring Thorns"
Written by Gregg Glory [Gregg G. Brown]
More information available on gregglory.com.