A kiss centers the soul, it
moves you slowly to that hush
place that knows no boundaries,
deep in the soul of the world.

Mother, father,
Sister, brother,
lover, just kiss me
for we are one and the same
biological matter
the earth amassed full of nerves
and cells and atoms and quarks.

The Mother of the Cosmos
has a mournful countenance...
she does not know what love is.

I'm giving birth to Chaos.

There is darkness
upon the face of the deep:
I feel the void,
I hear the waters,
the darkness, I see.

The light enters:
I am delivered
unto God that I become.

Softly the soul sings
from her lips into a smile,
her soft countenance:
tears for the child of mercy,
reflecting the face of God.

I am in the trees,
in the soil when it rains,
and my essence pours out:
water.

I don't go with the flow,
I am the waves,
the wind-pushed tide
in a deep, calm lake.

I am in the ocean,
in the morning air,
the breeze blows on my back
and I flux and flatten,
eased. A constant state of ease.

Your presence passes me
like a slow-moving satellite
revolving around
my head, slurred
into mesh—so gravitated.

Love is a shade which
covers me close
to your body, in sync
like the movements of the planets,
pivoting harmonious in the
deep, dark mystery
of your sheltered embrace,
and the universe seems
to settle around me
calm and constellated.
  
Your eyes, a deep depiction
in the mind, so starry, I
see nothing more
but stars.

Bright as the brilliance
of the fire of my affection
at the core of my soul, lit
with passion, intense
as a thousand suns, a
million moonlit galaxies,
is my love which seems
to have no end.

Your presence passes me,
a slow-moving satellite
revolving around
like a moon to Jupiter,
boy, I feel that pull.

Give me a unisex name,
my soul’s a fickle, fortified thing,
my spirit’s blue with happy pink eyes.
I get so ******* in the ugliest knots
so I just shut down and become
gender neutral.
Tell it in a letter:
I hate myself.
And that’s the thing,
I can’t straight myself!
I’m a crooked parasol
that was to shade my eyes
from the blinding sun
and that’s the thing,
I can’t see a **** thing!
past the run-of-the-mill
air-conditioned trap-house
set up for the megalomaniacs
to **** the **** out of my soul,
so I yell! and do some self-harm,
maybe a little suicide
next time. Who knows?
To get me through, dear,
only necessity permits.
I dream of living in isolation
in the woods with trees for company
because whenever I get
the urge to wail,
not a **** soul will care
but the birds.

I’m a witch when in the fire:
the taste, just like acid
dropping down the hole.

I’m a witch when I get out of here,
so devastated was the
dilapidated Ferris wheel.

I’m a witch when my mother comes
and succors me along,
but she don’t like
what I’ve been doing
at the witching hour--
only time I got to raise my flag.

I’m a witch when they come in
to make a martyr out of
flesh and bone. I live for the day
the people gather round’
and weep for the child of
ignorance and recreational hate.

I’m a witch when the riot
raise their fire. I’m unholy
so the temple must go down.

One, three, five, six,
give me, give me all of it.
I can take a lot, you see,
my will is unrelenting.