Philosophy cautions against the impiety of flesh,
And indeed, I have craved bread and water,
Or weary of that, supped on food for thought alone.
A phantom trapped in a living body,
Or a bit too much in the clouds...
Yet, my senses stir
At the suggestiveness of lantern-lit marble,
And the withered Ego,
Faded into free-floating needlessness
(But not Freedom),
Rouses at the carnival parading 'round the hall:
Sizzling, shimmering in oil,
Simmering fragrant with juniper and herbs.
A menagerie of nakedness laid glistening before the eyes,
The Fruit of the Earth in flesh:
Creatures of flight, strength, and speed,
The hot-blooded pride of wild things subdued by Fire...
But young and raw, our hearts grow still wilder, O Love!
Breathe, breathe, coming to my senses...
Your eyes shine brightly —
Could we, could we
Shed our skins
Limb from limb?
As like two calves, we lay down
Upon the sacrificial altar
Laid in lily-soft linen, where
Warmed with the lashes of wounds and wine,
We meet in a lovely slaughter:
Bare hands entwined,
Eyes flickering, jaws twitching
Garden serpents coiling, recoiling
A grotesque flurry of scales and feathers,
Of dead skin and mortal sins.
Who hunts, who is hunted?
For we fall together, crimson sparrows:
Une petite mort pour deux petits oiseaux...
Wings bitten, matted with blood and olive oil:
Give me your hand: I will stitch you together
With thread from my tendons.
A lip hangs mangled from your jaws,
And my teeth leave purple crescents around your neck.
"Can you feel my strings vibrate
Through your thrumming caverns?"
"Do you bleed
Where I have poured myself into you?"
"Do sunflowers grow here
Where I bury my Heart
Beneath your bones?
For if death be an act of Love,
I wish for your blood to flow through It."
The imprint of Lust,
In the color of a moan,
And rakes its claws across the canvas...
Writing music: https://youtu.be/mz17Ip28uiE