The equality of this creation
is maddening to a criminal of affection
as desperate as me.
We are conceived,
we are here,
we live and we can love,
and we are about to die,
all of us the same.

It is a conflagration so fair,
it makes me want to rip out
one of my short ribs, and use it
to poke the god's in their eyes.
It is a design so ripe
for cruelty, but so equally
inclined to the passion
of our tender love
that it must burn brighter than hope
in the universe's beyond.

XV. The Devil: Blind impulse, irresistibly strong and unscrupulous person. Temptation, obsession, secret plan about to be executed. Endurance, aching discontent, materialism, fate.
XI. Lust: Courage, strength, energy, use of magical power, control of life force, great love affair. Resort to magic.
XVIII. The Moon: Illusion, deception, bewilderment, hysteria, madness, dreaminess, falsehood, voluntary change. This card is very sensitive to dignity.

It has been very dangerous for us
ever since lust met the moon.

A kind and wild voice
speaks from the hole in my hand.
"I was born to destroy  the destroyers
and I became your friend
out of love for the world...
I am crossing a great era
of darkness with you".

It is a haunting.
The self talks to the self
and then forgets the self,
wanders in a dark wood
releasing a low howl
because it can not remember
how to remember.

Three tears makes four,
and everybody dies.
My heart is dark
as it is flourishing
during these dark days.
I am not innocent
and neither are you.
Perhaps that is why we cherish our vices
because they will hasten our death.

XVI. The Tower: Quarrel, combat, danger, ruin. Destruction of plans. Ambition, courage, sudden death. Escape from prison and all that it implies

I can afford to worship death
because conception is always generous to me.
I pilgrimage to my own primitive landscape
seeking a boon- a long slurp
of the moon's warm breast milk.

The moon never suffers
as the savior did suffer.
However, the moon is so swollen with love,
we are assured of our survival.

Go ahead, sleep many hours
and have lucid dreams.
If you want to know who you are,
indulge a whole season of character flaws,
and wander aimlessly mimicking prayer.

I heal.
I say it the same
to all- "No!”

No one knows what I am talking about,
but everyone knows I am right.

Though the sun saves the will
to survive by being brighter
than both nostalgia and despair,
there is still no voice
for our lost bodies.

If we flip to the back of the book
because we hunger for a conclusion,
we will be surprised to find
that the word is not yet written.

We cover our bodies
in secret signs, because
we do not want to be righteous,
but we do want to be redeemed

One thousand dogs laugh
while the innocent and the condemned
share simultaneous dance.
They worship the rattle of the snake
beyond the frontier of human decency,
which poses the question,
"is god's love above the navel
or somewhere below"?

Though still a saint, I am the enemy of the common public
implicated during this sordid scandal.
I arrive promptly at the hour of the counter clock,
because same as you, I am in the midst
of the struggle for love, and I am suffering.

I can not see you anymore
now you've flown into the sun,
but that is how life ends,
lovely, and without words.