i think you liked the way
my coronet of flowers was
tilted when i reached the
bottom of your black stone stairs
i think you liked the way i
placed the pomegranate seeds
one
by
one
onto my tongue and whispered
"don't tell my mother"
and i think you liked the way
i walked right up to you
as though you weren't a demon
but a fallen angels wanting to be loved
i smiled
and when you said my name...
that was the beginning and end
of everything

When we think of what hell is, we usually think about the firey place depicted in cartoons
But wouldn't this be quite accurate?
Cartoons are places with no true rules or order
anything is possible
Wouldn't hell be a place of things that make no sense?
A place that follows no laws?
A place nearly fictional but made real by the millions who believe

Sink beneath stars, into icy tacent lands
The world is a reflection, shattered ceaselessly
and mended only ever by her hands

Enter the yawning maw of the dim and thirsty deep
swim the frigid waters till the water is a mist
the potion of the seas upon the shore will creep
and the curtain will be parted by her stoney, frozen fist

The house does rise above, to house the world below
a roof of pinprick candles
through the door we all must go.

With a body of curves, like no other, a true image of the magnificent, celestial mother.

And flowing as a spring with infinite roar, yet one small detail one could not ignore.

Her hair was a torrent, a weathering storm, scattering birds, attracting lightning; a whirlpool in form.

This visage, this appearance, so strange, so bizarre; face of spinning waters, as brilliant as stars.

Falling in love with her, into her flows, where everyone knows where the torrid passion goes.

In drowning descent, never returning from the throes, Land of Sleep, a beast awaits; the awful Kro-nos.

I sit in my chair studying the mirror-
starring at the figures outside the square.

Day by day the world changes outside your gates.
May, June, and July dancing while they pass by.

The birds singing to the morning bells-
ringing a spell in the ears of farewells.

The houses are filled with life-
telling stories of family glories.

The world is different through your eyes.
I feel hidden from creation-
not touched by fiction.

Is this an illusion
or is it just me being human?

To many times,
I have confessed my sins by your side.

Too often,
they are forgotten.

Do you even notice the hand print stains upon your face?
Or the blackened space were my tears have fallen?

For even a priest will send me with lie,
or release me with a goodbye.

Your two sided eyes
reflect your two sided mind.

You show me a reality
without the apple tree.

You blind me with jewels
and take me for a fool.

No longer will I sit and stare at the underworld.
For the flames may be there, but I rather taste it in the air.