I tremble violently
the spirits dine with me
a feast of illusions break me
because sleep is a memory.

When did I last sleep
grains of sand ne'er grace my eyes
never caked with desert lullabies
So dry, I can barely weep.

I don't remember what nightmares are
and though dreams haunt me
I don't know where they are
they're neither near nor far.

I've been awake so long I'm twice my age
I'm so tired I cannot even call on rage
Lust lies asleep while I watch it slumber
Hunger feeds on itself in a sightless umbra.

There are times when the astral planes call me
I stumble, my eyes droop, I feel heavy
It's like I'm embalming, passing into shadow
But I must continue to work, for I am a slave.

Some day I will sleep and I may never wake.
Such waking would be a second birth, fit for a cake.
How many candles would adorn this pastry?
I don't give a hoot, so long as it's tasty.

Icarus
  plummeting and foolish boy, his fear of flying taken from his fear of falling. His father told him not to go so far, his wings were weak and frail- reeling, retching- ripped to shreds.

Aphrodite
demands your worship on aching knees with a wet mouth- she waits for Ares- the man who claims to show his love with bruises.

Ares
the blue lights of a neon sign reflecting to him as he laughs and starts a fight, his knife shining and dripping scarlet- dripping scarlet, dripping blue neon- the room quickly emptied of souls

Athena  
Her wisdom has run dry, she sits in the back of a smoky bar. The bartender pours her another drink and she feels her tequila soaked mind slip into a coma, she doesn’t give- for once and forever- she is free

Apollo
He sits surrounded by woman, the heavy beat pulsing through his bones and all he hears is heavy breathing and bass, he’s all alone- all alone and sitting- no one will look here for him here.

Hera
She dyes her hair and inks her skin in an alley, she wonders why her husband doesn’t look at her the same and traces her hand against the cold brick, pretending it’s his hand as she plays with- considers and contemplates- the idea of calling a lover,

Hades
He chain smokes and wanders the streets of New York, his pale skin pearlescent and soft, he thinks he loves Persephone - and the way a soul feels warm after death- a little too much.

Dionysus
He gets drunk off gin and tonic, his mind wandering to the way Athena looked with the early morning sun on her skin and how much he wanted to write his words- and love, his soft love- on her early morning skin.

Artemis
He hunts for his prey, as the city of sin calls his name blatantly and boldly- he sips a glass of moonshine and curls his lips at the burning taste, he decides moon shine- is colder and softer when- harvested by the gods

Tonight,
at dusk, under the greed washed stars; with the metallic taste of homesickness on their tongues and the dull ache of gin and tonic in their bones- tonight and only tonight- the gods have lost their divinity

In Joy we are united,
and invited
to untie
the knots between us.

Her Joyful hands
are ours in this world;
and Love is the Will
in which nothing, save thought
separates us from true
being.

His Christed feet
are ours in this world;
and Quiet Peace is the sound
each step makes

His footsteps are
like a drum
our Soul dances to
in Holy Passion

The Child eternal
Raised by the Divine Mother and Father
(Rise child, rise!)
falls into the escasy of Their Love

Shining the Light of the illuminated I

for what else could be, the nature or will
of the One birthed in the Heavens
of the fathers Peace,
and mothers Joy

where thine heart and eye are One