I never know how to feel on Mother's Day
My mother killed herself
She checked into a hotel room
without telling anyone
and took a bottle of sleeping pills
one at a time
until they were all gone
and then she laid down
and put herself to sleep
She did it to escape the pain
yes
She did it to save herself
certainly
She did it to save us
undeniably
to save us
from her
from her madness
from her long pain
from her forever scream
She loved us so much
that she died
to protect us
from herself
She gave me life
and then she gave it to me again
saving my life
by sacrificing her own

So whose life
am I really celebrating
today?

And should the flowers
be daisies
or lilies?

make your Gift
to The Queen of the May
let the blood run brilliant hot

a boiling Gift
of life-made-death
to bring Light for a New Year to come

sharpen your blade
and polish the stone
for The Queen and Her Kingdom of Sun

let the fires burn bright
three stories high
heat Her throne in the heavens above

drink of Her wine
down to your bones
let the Wild come into you freely

dance naked your Joy
come loud to the stars
Her pleasure move through you completely

drown in the flesh
of lovers all 'round
get lost in Abandon's display

and bathe in the blood
of a Life now re-born
All Hail The Queen of the May

Seeking the Enchanted Wood
beyond the Gate of Dreams
again another night
naked but for my Silver Key
that heavy antique carved
with undecipherable
arabesque
symbols
stolen from the Messenger
of the Faceless One
hung from a chain around my neck
the Key to the Dreaming
a comfortable weight against my chest

I descend those too-familiar
Seventy Steps of Light Slumber
ancient worn stone cold under my bare feet
climbing down through the dusky emptiness of Pre-Dreaming
one-by-one
until they suddenly end
at Nothing at all

Without hesitation
(I've been here so many many times before)
I take the leap
and step off into emptiness
and enter the hidden Cavern of Flame

In the far corner of that inky darkness I can almost see
the shadowed forms
of Nasht
and Kaman-Thah
the Gatekeepers
whose temple this is
those towering black figures
bare-chested with carved, curved beards
and elaborate head-dress
stand stone-still but all-aware
waiting to judge my worthiness
again
I perform for them
a different routine every night
to demonstrate my power
my understanding
my worthiness to traverse The Dreamlands beyond

Tonight
as most nights
I begin by conjuring myself a robe
a simple black thawb with cleric's collar
hemmed just below the knee
black linen gi pants
in the Thai style
and comfortable black tabi boots for my feet

Now dressed appropriately
I begin the ritual proper
so They may see
my mastery of The Dream

I rise myself up to float in the center of the cavern
in lotus-posture
and expand out from my center
a dodecahedral lattice-work of blue plasma
until it fills the space
and I float serenely in its center
From each pentagonal face of this construct
I then project white-hot jets of flame
offensive defense
effective ward against
the many horrors that await a Dreamer
But here in this realm of un-real
this is but simple hedge-magick
unimpressive
amateurish

They require better of me

I reach out
and project myself
to the far end of the cavern
and instantly I am there
And then again
and then again
teleporting myself around the cavern
disappearing and re-appearing at random points
to demonstrate my control of Self
and reality here

They continue to stare down at me
black and stone-faced

I draw my perception down into the center of my form
and push Out
against my flesh
against my skin
until I feel it begin to tear
down my back
and I keep pushing
Out
and Out
screaming
until it all comes free in one blood-soaked blur of agony
and I am left standing as
naked muscle sinew bone and nerve
From the scraps of my skin I fashion
a new robe to wear
to show them
my immunity to the horrors I will face beyond

Finally
they consent

From the center of the cavern erupts
the Pillar of Flame
floor to ceiling
I step into it
and my flesh-robe self-sacrifice burns away to ash in an instant
the price paid for passage
but I am left unsinged
and after a moment I step free from the flame
with a new skin
and again re-robed, as before
black thawb and gi and tabi
but now also something new
something never experienced before
(every night
something never experienced before)
something not of my own crafting
a blue turban
electric royal blue
adorned with an onyx jewel
I do not understand this gift
or who
or what
might be the giver
but I accept
with gratitude

An open door appears in the cavern wall in front of me
and I step through
and begin my descent
of the Seven Hundred Steps of Deeper Slumber
gleaming black stone staircase
descending into darkness
through an empty night
I know that at the bottom of these stairs lies
the Enchanted Wood
and further beyond the rest of The Dreamlands
Ulthar and Dylath-Leen
Oriab and Celephaïs
Leng and unknown Kadath
and as I descend further and further
and closer to the Dream
I can feel my Self coming apart
as if dissolving into mist
and I try to hold my Self together
and focus on those far-away lands
and their cities of Dreaming
and remember how much I long to see them
how every night I long to see them
and I try
and I try harder
and I take another step
and I am gone



And then I am awake

I will try again tonight
as I try every night
and I will make my way to the Cavern of Flame
and I will perform my tricks for the Gatekeepers
and I will begin my descent of the Seven Hundred Steps of Deeper Slumber
and one night
maybe tonight
I will make it all the way
to the bottom
to the Enchanted Wood
and to the Dream beyond
and I won't ever
have to return

why can't i write?

i'm feeling so much and it hurts too much and i can't think of anything to say about it
i can't think of anything to say
not a single ******* thing and i just want it out out OUT GET THE **** OUT OF ME
JUST STOP
just stop just go away and leave me alone
i can't take this it's just too much
i could take it if i could write about it if i could describe it if i could express it but i can't
it's just stuck it's overwhelming it's too big to fit inside my massive body and i feel like i'm going to split open
and i need to get it out but i don't know what it is and i don't know where it is and
i don't know what to say
i don't know how to say it i don't know i don't know i don't know

I hate those words so much.

this is an act of desperation trying to find the pressure-release valve in my mind to find the off button in my chest
each new line like pulling one of my own teeth
just trying to get the words to drain from my fingertips until i'm empty and numb but they won't come
the words won't come
just words about the words but not the words i need just empty useless mute words that laugh in my face
when all i want to do is scream at the top of my lungs GO **** YOURSELF
please just go **** yourself to death and get away from me i hate you so ******* much
still not right still can't write that's not what i need to say just a violent reaction to the words stuck in my throat
oh gods it hurts so ******* much just make it stop just make it stop whatever you want just make it stop
just don't make me say i'm sorry
just don't make me say i'm wrong
just let me keep my pride please just let me keep my pride don't make me humiliate myself just to end the pain

I'm doing this to myself.

you did this to me but i'm doing this to myself because i know how to end it but i won't because

i don't want to
i don't want to pay that price
i'd rather respect myself in agony
than hate myself contentedly
so i'll hate you instead
and torture myself enough
for the both of us

I love seeing the looks
on the faces of the shopkeepers
in the occult store down the block
sudden surprise
or annoyance
immediately morphing into pleasant
plaster
shop-keep smiles
I don't look like I belong there
they think I'm a tourist
come to gawk at them
or that I'm gift shopping for a
hippie-witch friend
or relative
They have no idea
until I decide to
open my mouth
and tell them what I need
why I'm there
and they hear me use the words
suddenly realize I'm serious
I know what I'm talking about
I know what I'm doing
and they take a step back
and look me up and down
as if to say
Really?
You??

I used to look the obvious occultist
when I was younger
and still learning
passing me on the street
one would've not been at all surprised to learn
that I was a black magickian
Hell
one might've even assumed that
to begin with
just by my outfit
But that was a long time ago
Now to all outward appearance
I could be any other computer nerd
But I'm still a cultist
though a different colour now
I learned the value of
not broadcasting myself
my every intimate personality trait
to anyone who happens to pass me on the street
I learned to pass
as a Normal
as a Mundane
(please don't make me say
"Muggle")
and now no one notices me
I can go about my daily business
and my sorcerous shenanigans
without attracting unwanted attention
without arousing any suspicions
of satanic blood pacts
or ****** sacrifices made
to blind idiot gods
which makes everything so much more
pleasant

But sometimes I forget
that the Me people see
isn't really me
until I see the shopkeeper's face
down at The Magick Box
at Bell, Book, and Candle
at Foxcraft's
at The Crystal Cauldron
or whatever it calls itself today
in this particular town
I'm there to buy a component
some specific mineral
or herb
or root
or ritual tool
or color of candle
required for some particular spell
or sigilization
or pathworking
or ceremony
or casting
Magick is now modern
and so when I need the dried petals
of a rare and deadly Black Lotus blossom
to throw a curse on the drug-dealing ****
who moved in across the street
and keeps threatening my neighbors
for the crime of daring to look
in his direction
I don't need to form an expedition to Tibet
to climb the peak of
the only mountain where it grows
no, I'm an American
other people do the hard work
so I can simply pull out a credit card
and laugh silently to myself
at the look on the shopkeeper's face
that says
What on Earth
does he
want with *that??

thirteen days
and I'm feeling unlucky
less than two weeks
until
I break this self-imposed fast
and I don't know
what I'm feeling
anymore
so excited
overly anxious
prematurely proud
afraid
it will all go wrong

I've never wanted
a drink
more than I do right now
and every day
that is true
all over again
how will I feel
with three days to go?
with two?
that first sip of whiskey
might make me cry

what if I can't handle it
what if I get depressed again
what if I lose my creativity
what if I can't write anymore
what if I can write
but I don't want to
what if I can write
and I want to
but I don't feel anything when I do
what if I don't feel anything

I only learned
to express myself
when I stopped
only started to write
when I dried up
so now I'm afraid
dipping my toe back
into that
golden Kentucky spring
could take that all away from me
and I don't know
what I'd do without this
how I'd deal without this
who I'd be without this
joy of
turning inward
feeling around
pulling something out
pouring over it
crafting it
shaping it
until it's just right
and then
casting it out
into the universe
to be its own

if I have to choose
I know what I'll choose
but either way
I'll lose
something
I love
and I won't be
me
anymore

had a minor-league nightmare
last night
thinking I forgot
to pay my taxes
which is so unfair
I did my taxes
almost a month ago
specifically
to avoid
exactly this
Anxiety

waking
this morning
I realized
just how much
I truly
despise
Authority