i will wade out
                        till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
                                       Alive
                                                 with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
                                       in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
                                            Will i complete the mystery
                                            of my flesh
I will rise
               After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
             And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

The most powerful thing in the world isn't a thing.
It's the feeling when

You're on top of a man, and

His eyeballs start to roll back into their sockets, and
There is a moment.
There is a moment when his
Soul
Rockets
Spell-bounding lengths away from his ties,
Drifting amidst the stellar pockets glistening blissfully amongst the skies of your
Galaxy.

Listening

A heavy
Fluency of
Fantasy,
A mystical entrancing fascinating wonderful wondrous moment
and you
Capture
The thunderous entirety of his
Control.
You behold
The entirety of his control.
On top of this man,
On top of the world;
I can see
The universe.
The universe is all powerful.
Most powerful.

Powerful:
-the adjective for;
Having great
Power
Or
Strength.

Can't sleep, it's always the same.
I get to my room, exhausted, lie in my bed,
Close my eyes and the Sleepless Fairy
decides to take the reins of the situation.

Maybe if I go to my computer and surf for a while
I could doze off. Maybe I'll go out and have a cigarette
to calm the Fairy. No, this insomnia is different. I can't fix it
with simple solutions.

This wakefulness is not due to the anxiety of an exam,
or the diffidence I have for that one girl I can't get out
of my head. This insomnia is that small sparkle of
uncertainty that has abounded my mind for a long time.
That feeling of vagueness, of yearning. Yearning of what?
I don't know.

It is simply that feeling that I'm missing something,
whatever it is. I go around the whole day in my mind,
what am I missing? What am I forgetting?

During the day I'm acquiescent, lucid, happy.
But come night... time to go to bed.
Time to perform the daily check for recent events.
Catalog the occurrences with different feelings,
accommodated to their respective memories.

But there's something missing.

I curse the Fairy and its 1001 tricks that keep me
awake and conscious about that which is in the
subconscious.

Will the day come when the Fairy shows up no more?

As long as that feeling is housed in me, like a parasite
clogged on its new victim, the Fairy will keep visiting.

Crystal, like my soul.
Crystal, like my flesh.
Hard edged, jagged, quick to draw blood,
That is my fetish.
I harbor the wounds of antiquity,
View Achilles with scorn.
Weak demi-god, foolish god-son.
Don’t play the game by the rules,
Challenge them.
Why allow such blood-travesty?
Take the arrow in your heel.
Take it and tell the gods,
“I deny your divinity!”
“*******!”
“I defy your divinity AND my future!”
Use the pain,
Make it crystal,
Hard edged, quick to cut.
Blood is a purifier—a pacifier,
Let it run and set your mind free.
Let it flow till you fall dead,
Now dry of blood, a husk,
In crystal.