The Jungle Cat and his mate,
Captain Hectic, tell me
I am no longer a player in this game,
I have stepped back and I am now...
An overseer? A witness?! A referee even? Or just above or beyond it all?

Yet still he sits at The Vipers House,
Being eaten alive by invisible sharks
Of one who has been in the game Far longer than he
One who bats her lashes
And incites guilt from housewife
hospitality.
   And all these many, merry men,
How They do
flock and flutter
Like moths to a flame, that is just more darkness
****** in by neon lights and fake bluster.
  

Roundabout,
So here we go again,
Sweeping up any evidence of this deal
Baggies, pins and needles,
a twisted array of steel,
Tiny shards of Zero
Left out for The Key
To clean

She will hold her heart
So Tight inside now,
  She does
Lock it till the chains ****** her skin
This screaming pain,
The vicious words
   just too much
For one dissociative to bear.

Can't feel the brutality
Of the words,
Like knives, one upon another
Straight into her heart,
   No she can't feel it, won't feel it,
Just turns her head away,
   Switches her heart to off...

She won't be hurt anymore....

They tried for years,
Perhaps to fill the boredom of a life-unfulfilled,
Perhaps to try to hold together their universal but tenuous bond-
Like leaves from the same branch of the same centurion tree,
They swayed to all the same winds,
Almost broke through the storm that was
her,
And then ultimately
His
torment.

And where did it come from?
Well nobody knows- not to this day
Can anybody say
Just where the fruit of her madness sow.

But it was as though one day,something just changed.




And at times there
was
even
Some  quiet lulls in the Symphony
Of her self-destruction
where,
Perhaps,
pray tell
  She (and so he)
Felt
Happy.


And so they tried,
For years,
Maybe out of stupid habit


Her name was Violet and she had always
Loved
The Element
That is Water.
The Ocean,
  Like a purification from birth,
Draws her back again,
still
A ritual
That some say cleanse the sins
Of the flesh.


And she has flesh,
Raging, burning
Insatiable flesh
That screams for the touch of another.
  But that scares her.
So she must create
Barriers around her heart


Perhaps to quell the fire
Of her absolute and inconsolable
Rage.
She had Irish in her blood,
Right from day dot.
It came from her
Daddy'
And those twisted genes
came
from that place of darkness
That neither her Mother nor Grandma can see.


Once upon a time...
There was a Prince
With a tussle of hair so long,
It dragged her up from the darkness.
He was the Dragon Side of her Rapunzel.


Violent Violet
  was her name...
And She
Was

A super-hero from Birth

It was a dark Byron night when
You and i looked at the stars,
Explained to the Indigo child,
From America,
His name was Tyler
That there a
Saucepan beside a
Southern Cross
...
And then we
Went
On a journey of discovery...

Thirteen years later we
Are still here.

With the same dreams,
Right beside the same fears.


Do You Have A vision?

If so, proclaim it to me now.

Dear Husband,
I Miss You.

Scream at yourself Rebecca
Rebecca
May
All Twelve of you
And
All your beautiful dreams.
Once upon a Time,
Sve was a gorgeous princess...
Trapped in a tower
Below
The ma and pa of Creation...

So happy and carefree she was,
She travelled near and far with Nanny and Grandpa.
Then one
Day I
Could
No longer trust


And it eats me up
L.....

Please Call Me Mam.



For the Man I adore...


Well His Name...
It is that which can never be spoken.


And They
Are fantasizing about each other
Again,
   Could that beautiful Crazy, beautiful thing called
L
O
V
E...
Could it
Really come back to
Give us Happiness


As They had always planned...

She got split into
O

Because in the end, all we all ended up wanting
was It.
Not the fun, the productivity, the connection,
Not anything we found at the beginning.
Now all we wanted (and still want,
Whether we are sober, dealing or somewhere in between)
Is to find ourselves the tiny shards of zero-
We will stop at nothing to
chase the white dragon.

And where is she now?
What is she doing?
Well she is here,
In most ways,
for him.
Funny that Irony.

So lonely and alone was she,
our Key,
that the thought of her self being good enough
for him to need
was more than anything she could ever need.


And now,
her brain slows a lot,
loving herself,
just as difficult a lot
and she misses being herself again.
Not part of the THE LOCK AND THE KEY,
but just
herself again
   An enigma,
Misty mystery.

The Preacher
Is struggling,
   Faith deserted him,
Again...
And They meet In the Middle.
Both lost in that
Witch.




Is she just
Desirous of women,
Or is she just sensitive?
One of of those pretty little things that need attention
'Like Glass your
key could shatter
She's not unbreakable
Like a steel Lock in a
Wooden Door
Surrounded by mud brick
Stubbornness ...

So, so...
Miss Beccy May,
How does life
Now
Look

About
You....
Because I wanted you to watch me,
The way you
Did
Every single time
....

No way she saw that coming,
Saturn come-a-smashing
Into that little already fragile
Piece
Of ...
HER.
AND sweetly she etched
His story
While he slowly
Let happiness
Slip
  Through
His fingers.
His excuse could easily be hers.