Kissed by the wendigo
Driven insane
Stalking death
For release from the pain
Waiting in darkness
For killers of the night
Yet even the moon
Hides from my sight
Scratching at tombstones
Of those long gone
Begging passage
To where I belong
Skin gone grey
Heart, lacking a beat
The wendigo's kiss
Left me in defeat
How I still love it
That wendigo, its pain
Kissed by the wendigo
Driven insane

The work words have to do, I do as well
leaving being as having been begun
ghabh-
also *ghebh-, Proto-Indo-European root meaning
"to give or receive."
The basic sense of the root probably is "to hold,"

Able comes from this, thus
ability  

8 billions, say
- the ob-servant says,
half are breathing in, as half
were breathing out,

certainly a few were out of sync,
so some of us sneezed, one would think
to effect the fectuality, unawares,

stutter steps, bridge march, aware
smell the honey suckle smell, no,
discern a subtle dif-fer tle,lit-tle
bit
literal not sames, similar sense, smell
seeming
how more aware have we all become,
we who lost taste and smell, while
experiencing a pandemic in our time.
Eventually endemic.
How rare are we in history? First wave.
Mindful, some how, now
my taste and smell
systems are back,
on.

Off, again, try to remember the smell,
of linden trees in Helena,
and wonder, set a mind on wish to know
will wonder, the worth of which we know

but fail to consider until… un til, tilling soil,
un
I think, et I'm y conjoined, to reconsider you.

At my bitterest root,
my jealousy and rage,
- alleluia, you know the drill
my will to act like some ancient god.
Cursing all I ever was.
-disconfabulating my own legend… uses
time, in points made.

May I guess we know each word,
writ and read, in this medium sprouted from
science with held from those
limited access faith confirmations, holy secret
ways out of paying for all the idle words,
never taken for the sense intended,
foremost
sense
posited, as a point in time,
we agree, I can, we did

--plea, please explain, make it seem
as real as any dream, we can't handle the truth.
-pointless-
- why carry the weight of knowing
think of nothing
in a word,
yet
not in time/
-- a spirit from the mortals fearing death
lives in this lie, cultural *******, fear of measure,
spit an image, imagine a nation, from dragon's teeth
spat, shat, splat, all the same, fat rain sound.
-- crack of the gavel, give us rapt attention---
order, order in the court, when, in fact,
judgement begins where Jesus says God is,
in his forever state, in me, of we, who
took him at his word, be true, live.
the way
courtesy commands, as judgment begins
in the spirit
of the man,

The right hand ignores the left hand clapping
-present the feeble fable

Discord sown among brothers-
hate the owning fact of life, only one breath,

- listen to the retold old word tale
- endemic demes enforced knowledge
- from **** to last told tale… we are this
- this is epic in each occurrence… we realize
smoked ribbon winds around in
form,
the long winter mind, all hearing ears, feel
from our gut, we obey. We join image-e- nations.

We dare ante-cipitate the motion in the dance.
All public opinion re
arrives at one point. We have no reasons for war,
we are not the users of others, we give, and
have been given unto, in some inexplicable way,

peace in time to rest in it, dabbling in old lies, left
binding cultural ties, as all reason for stiffness wilts

We listen to the Wendigo,
who wound the ******* greedy winding wake,
when the forest was aflame, and the wind had no cloud
that did not poison rain.
- meandering progress, not steam ship progress
sense posed reason aitia, to the t/
spirit and image in the idiom/
sublime

Now, the teller, looks to me, reminds me
of light perceived as punctual, flashing,
aha, waves in passing
understood.
Effectually.
- we stand as one.
- In the ready written mind.

All but he who takes a knee, ala George Washington,
under the leafless tree, in the olden vale.

The point of any thing, is made for, f-word for or fore
before, forsaking, one must make for some sake,
no relationship to four, for some reason, get
as a service, do what you do. Right.
Why would one enabled to do good,
do otherwise?

Ignor the answers you ask for.
Pretend poetry never makes
sense in terms of poetic good, exhaled, relieved,

passing coolness in the air.
- as gentle spirits some say do
Orderly arrangement, left mind, right or most versatile hand,
point at any thing,
bend that finger,
as on a trigger,
we can, we
know not how, we know, we have, we hold certain
positioning words as one mind may, I know,

I just got my smell back.
Like that, but after using your James Webb visualizing augments.
The wheel galaxy, just as imagined… we see

In effect, this is science, this is history,
this is art and language, holding sway,
we all know earth produces on a cycle, right,
greed breeds and brings forth famine,
famine finds us eating our corporations…
Jubilee, reset
-ship, shape, worth-shape, sense make,
peace where war was, one point
at a time.

Hold that thought, this is intended for

an audience, as the Terminal List,
was made to entertain military minds,
mental peace enforcer traits, keepers
of the secret, duty to the concept,..
live free, or die- for no reason,
save the Platonic essential lie.

Peacemakers were not intended,
we want valient warriors, at the core,
not the passive resistors increasing
capacity
to have the whole world sneeze.
And blink,
To sell words redeemed, mercurial recovery,

as from first people stories, branching away,

chaparral, between the salty sea,
and high reaching pine

fishing in a sea of social forgotten schemes/

Self govern, but in these days, not the future,
self govern now, participate in the present,

NPC over sight, non intervention-invention,
installed when you agreed, you watch,
do not rewrite the ending/

So, story being told.
Story being made up to conserve,

serve a certain truth we know, winter comes
some times for too long,

so we consider the ant, and remember Wendigo.

greedy gut, cheater, long time ago, we know,
we all can be the hungered beast.

Wait, and see, some day, we see the peace pass
for understanding, and we wonder into a we,
state of awe, as a we aware, we think

whole worlds and only words, at once.
Making peace from confused principle things.

We can, others have, agree; we are the best/

--------
Welfare, fare thee well, we said

we are as rich as ever was,
but we live a quiet life.

Pressure from some outside source,
begins be gins beginning to squeeze,

and pull and stretch, who needs the show
shown every where,
there, those other people, who own
no means to make a living form we are
reality personality types, all observants
become familiar with,
predicting winners, if it happens

I coulda been a contender, the audience
always know,
just how it feels, to be on your own,
a compleated unknown enfolding old Dylan licks,

Wendigo, there he go,
lickin' his chops, BG words are all I have
to take his breath away,

soft, and gentle/ sub-tility, wait, as sufficient

seed becomes something, never just a seed again,
and then just a seed a million times, in the wind.

-------------
3:55
I've driven myself to reflection
point,
observation con services ob
scene, objects mis directed, rect-
ify, io I mean, finger mover, on demander
I, free, willing, hunting wendigo from fantacy
conforming to hate manifested, abhor evil,
-never rests, never
rest in stranger's peace of mind,
find plain old apples in the tree, free, no fines,
no charge, non sense, an-tic

click onoma-tope -- under all of history, we know,

scribes, alone, found time to write, after reasoning
in the agora all day… ancient minds, WWSD?

--- listen, I am ashamed to beg, so, what does
your tab say, listen, I'm thinking

that's too much, here, take your ledger, wipe the debt.

Clean, no remnant from which revenant wrongs make claim,

first story told was told as lies, intended to deceive.

Knowledge is truth's gift, we live and learn
and pass it on. One point, inevitably crossing now.
And leaving a ripple, no marks

Yet, behind all that, this peace in mind, as a state, mindstate
timespace space time

taken, for granted bequilement does not disconnect,
knowing from known, and proof from pudding,
true rest,
reason for peace taken, in knowing, some body
had to believe, if it feels good, suddenly,
you know, every thing we eat
turns to ****, unless we learn…

that is good. Deal with it.

The Stag trots across a bleached horizon
Howling into the wind with echoes that curdle blood
Its form is liquid nightmare, drenching snow in ebony flood

Wispy vapor flares around antlers of pure, lucid black
Moonbeams shimmer off plumage fraught with drear
Violet feathers assure that bizarreness the Ravenstag does not lack
Dark fangs ravage human flesh, infecting tissue with fear

The Wendigo glides past fallen pine and split oak
Its viscous hooves leave tracks of unearthly essence
Through white deserts flecked with red and bodies left to soak

Your beastly desires were always hidden beneath
A calm and cool exterior, hiding truth
You waited and hunted me, tracked me
And watched me as your intentions stayed aloof,
Preparing to at last spring your vicious trap
Cleverly laid in the deep woods of passion
You are a beast, who stalks this once lush forest
And I am your prey, lying dead in trees now ashen

Description seems inadequate
To capture Nature’s essence
When life is solely permanent
In momentary prescience

Yet still her eminence unveils
A grim facade exterior
When setting suns, besetting sails
Reveal the realm’s ulterior

Unmotivated inspiration
Morphing into beauty’s beast
A hideous abomination
Come to wage its war of peace

And watch the world dehumanize
Itself in feasts of banquet flesh
Before starvation’s slow demise
Can feast its eyes on Bangladesh

And sink into the Indian
Where karma is the salt in wounds
Samsara born to die again
In Shiva’s doom-impending tombs

Like a monster
wearing my own skin,
I question yet again
whether the cries I upend
are signs of intelligence or
the incoherent utterances
of an imposter begging
to be let in.

dearest from above you've been sent. for i share memories of thy heavens with you. i've been casted back to the hells i came from many times only for my title of the devils son. Yet to question why i keep going, is only for you. yes, for your beautiful amber eyes and golden infused locks of hair. beautiful wings that glow in the darkest of nights. in next life I watch as wendigo, bound to the earth, for you're still an angel yet i've no words for you my dear valentine, I stay on this earth as wendigo for you my love, and you've no memory; for my state being wendigo differ from the elegant prince we fell in love as..
Or so I thought.
for when you fell into my depth of the forest I only look at thou and with heart ache you slowly stand and embrace the disgusting deer like demon i've become and with the softest tone you had muttered the most heart wrenching words to me
"I've missed you"
I embraced you and could no longer hold myself together, for your sake I did not break down, no. Instead I held you as I once did and did not let go. for even today we are together.
To my love, Valentine.  
With every inch of my being I wish to stay with you and build a healthy future may we last into our next reincarnation. hopefully we will return to the divine entities we once were, together

Lament our random tuesday
– I can't see today the sunny day
of our last spring leaves again
in a treeless pathless meadow
that spring day of silver tounges tarnished.

Dessicated earth is seeping in the blue glass,
the dry cracked plain rising above the sun,
the suns clarity as it is in reality,
and where we have been – I will always remember.

There are no oasis' on my equator.
The Wendigo subdued with pale skill.....
Whose corpse can fail to compare with my soul,
if despair and courage aren't in my heart! -

And if your scent, a mundane beast,
tears at my knees everyday,
and the suns dull golden light,
chilled by a slow approaching wave
for all of our words?

Frigid wind howls through tall standing pines
A sudden break in pressure and silence
The lone keening of a wolf echos through the trees
Full moon blazing silver ghost light down
Glittered forests full of snow reflect
I can hear the whispered siren song among the gusts
Wendigo
Insatiable and wild bidding me to run
Unable to resist I charge into the wilderness
Frozen acres pass beneath numb feet
Faster. Run. Faster.
Suddenly lifted by great hulking shadow
Faster. Faster. Too fast.
O my feet. My burning feet of fire!
Then footprints vanished
Moaning can be heard way up above the tree line
No one would find my bones or flesh
Consumed.
Nothing left but ash

Making an *** of myself while asking myself, does cash moo when these cows Plow over poor fools?
In Cotten fields with brothers floundering,
But still gotta give grace even if monsters starve ya to death.
For they only concerned about cashing their cheque’s, and saving their necks.
Such is the carnal nature of wendigo’s,
Who egos keep em entitled and keeps the dough only flowing to their sect.
Leaving us to fend for ourselves in the wrong neck of the woods.
Evil twisted as some ******* story of a necessary moral good,
With these dark fascist crow puppeteers designing the hood.
Whilst demons like Regan test us like lab rats, pushing pills down our throats with police beating us with batons to our backs.
Backs that built the foundation for these pigs to thrive on while they watch as we slowly die.
Maybe that’s why the hood is also known as the projects.
A project for white supremacists to always have a usual suspect.
Should’ve known my skin colour would get me shot down for nothing like Malcolm x.
Assassinated because we’re deemed as a threat, So how can we live good lives when the cards have already been set?
Man!
I thought that the police was supposed to serve and protect, but corruption comes in and now a brother got to protect his neck.
Maybe that’s why ain’t a **** thing changes?
When one’s race determines the length of their jail sentences.
When ones gender determines whether or not another gets away with ****.
For goodness sake!
Devil please take a hike!
And God please give me the strength to cut up all this red tape!
Because at this rate, society will end up worse then the Scorpion album from drake!
Cause we just like his secret love child for we are in need of some ******* support.
Life is a *****, for if it was a **** star it would be easy but also expensive like a private resort.
So unless you actually started from the bottom it might be impossible to make the charts.
So when life is weighing you down, at least you never had to **** the ***** of a tattooed clown.
In order to try on a Burger King crown,
Then Letting one’s ego run wild and as a result your music becomes watered down.
But every day one a tone’s ah for their sins ah, and for drake it was the coffin Pusha T buried him in ah!
****! Fatality!
Such is the price when one makes a fatal mistake.
For you can’t have everything and that slice of cake!
You can be a model all you want but it doesn’t change the fact that your fake!
Just a manufactured mannequin pushed out at a flat rate.
For uniqueness is just a moded state.
And for the most part we are all bargain bin plastic sheep.
Man humbleness makes ones knees weak.
But loss or gain is all just something that we reap.
So be careful what you seek.
And be sure not to advantage of the meek.
Or else you will get put through a saw mill.
For if you underestimate your opponent you’ll be killed.
For real though man I swear this world has no chill!

it was june or july or august
everything i could never say carved itself my esophagus, the words that would never escape – you made sure of that. one hand wound around my throat and the other cradling her blushing cheeks.

she slips away but your grip only tightens.
fingers scraping – my flesh beneath your nails as i learn a new kind of silence. just a little longer, i’m almost gone. trapped like a bug encased in amber but when those wilted wildflower eyes meet mine, you know i’ll always forgive you.

my lips flicker like a flame as i wonder if i’ll slip away too.
of course not & you like that. push on the middle of my windpipe, crack it like a glowstick and watch my lucid acid purge from my throat in neon technicolor – you do it in a way where i’m both alive but running through the afterlife in white gowns & red stained feet

you recite those wendigo apologies while they look in your wildflower eyes, you purge those auto repeat explanations and how it will never happen again – but we both know it will. your testaments are all folklore, but i always keep reading it.

you lick the blood filled sorrows into my skin and i forgive you.
and i always will because daddy always showed that when a man loves a woman, he hits her.

If you will tell me why the fen appears impassable,
I then will tell you why I think that I can cross it if I try..”
-Marianne Moore

When this world teeters on the abyss of emotion
and those I shepherd cannot find a way through the fog,
I try and hang a lamp from the front of this old rowboat
and paddle out slowly into the fen. That mind/shadow space
that surrounds and swallows their light.
I ask them what they need, and offer a steady hand
as they step onto the old planks. The children always begin
in silence but something about the way the water
Whispers to the wood, how the boat glides almost
unheard that always drives them to eventually speak
Of what carried them out beyond the threshold
of what one might bear stoically in public.

The oars provide some solace, something physical to pull
On that moves when these hands claim strength.
So much of what anchors us cannot be unshackled from skin.
They are loads we must drag along the deep until our hearts
forgive us for their weight. This is why I travel slowly, accepting
Silence as a cleverest answer, I ask my travellers where they are headed.
To acceptance they often say, or vengeance if they are not ready
To escape the shape of their shadows. I to dress in gloom, but
only when I put down the oars, while rowing there is no room
for night to claim my kingdom.  

Often there is nothing to do but listen to their stories
Let the sound of the lake lapping lapse into whatever tale is waiting
To be told, and sometimes just speaking its name is enough to banish
The wendigo that hunts behind teenage confidence, and sometimes their
Is nothing I can do but row. Rarely, they jump overboard but I
Weep but only when even their echoes have faded. Carve
their name into the planks in salt tear and let it mix with the bilge
And yet, there are those days that if I row just long enough, and can
Keep the silence within my cheeks, that suddenly a soft glow
Will rise from out of the darkness, bubble up like a lighting fish
and settle upon the bow. Those are the days the calluses are worth
Their calling. Those are the days the docks rise up from the mist long
Before fatigue creeps into these old bones and we spend the end
of the trip almost in each other’s arms, holding tightly to each other’s
Essence as my hands pull against the sea of time, as both of us heal,
And I call out goodbye as they step ashore, but they are already dressed
in gossamer glow, shining in the early morn, already wandering back into the light

Based on a horrible dream!!!!!!

Chapter 1
The Viewers
The blood dripped out of the nasty **** across his chest as the beast ripped vigorously through the ribs. The beast could hear the loud pounding of the heart jumping up and down covered in bits of flesh and bone. As its inwardly curved razor sharp teeth drew closer and closer, a screech from across the hall came from a little boy. He had a yellow shirt, torn up covered in blood with half of his arm ripped off showing nothing left except for a small loose broken bone dangling by a couple veins. The boy was screaming words at the beast, and I couldn’t make out what he was saying, the beast pounced off me and started to sprint down the hall. Only a few meters before the boy it jumped onto the wall and leaped past the boy taking his head clean off his shoulders with not a single movement of it legs. Then i saw the tail whip itself about shaking off blood from the boys body. The beast turned around slowly. it had a grin on its horrifying face as if it was enjoying this it then sprinted up to me with an opened mouth then everything went black.
I woke up from the deepest slumber with a shocking scream, as if all hell broke loose inside my mind. But this time it occured at only 1:45 instead of 2:00. It’s occurring earlier than usual, could this be a sign that it will be happening sooner than expected. Or thats a least what i thought as i climbed out of my old tattered sheets. I opened my eyes to the smell of newly cooked eggs, and the sight of my roomba bringing me breakfast as it tries to maneuver its way through the carpet. I think to myself “it’s going to be another great day”, as i go to get the meal from the little robot. I waved towards the glass panel where the doctors are standing writing on a clipboard. I shave off the hair of my beard as the razor blade softly touches the skin on my chin.
As i was getting dressed i was having flashes of the dream, i was starting to get light headed. The doctors were seeing my heartrate rise, my blood was flowing rapidly through my body. My nose started to bleed, with a rush of blood i fell to the floor squirming around like a dying worm. My eyes started to shake in  my head, suddenly i felt almost like there was a sharp point trying to find its way through my head and push out my eye. But it was failing miserably, it was already in my eye trying to find a way out. It sees the light, its going through the my pupil as it punctured a hole in my eye causing it to blow apart. Almost as if someone had taken a small shaving knife slicing across the retina allowing the inside of his body to find a way out through the head.  Blood squeezing out all over the side of my face. With a handful of worms starting to pour out of my eyes onto the floor you can already tell it was another failed experiment. The lab coats didn’t care about it, they only started laughing throwing their clipboards at my bleeding corpse. Then one man steped forward and said “ there’s no need to get mad boys we’ll start running tests on the little girl next….. Just you wait Josaia, I’ll bring you back one way or another.” grinning from cheek to ****** cheek he smashed my head with his foot causing the blood to splatter all over his lab coat. Then everything after that was plain black with the faintest voice saying “on to the next one, I’m done with you, you stupid insect”.

Chapter 2
Swallowed
I was in my bed fast asleep, waiting for the drugs to kick in as I’m thinking ” I can’t wait to die today”.
Then I felt like the bed just got swallowed by the ocean and blood started to fill my lungs as I tried to breath. But to my liking I can somewhat breath a little while the blood is flowing through all my pores. My skin starts to stretch, making holes in my arms and legs. As the bed fills with all my blood, my skin rips off, piece by piece.  With skin overflowing and falling off the bed, my final thought is “I finally get to see you again.¨
Out of the silence, I hear the gurgling of the blood in my throat and lungs. My stomach explodes all over the wall and suddenly the six legged creature is standing above me. The demonic beast, its rows of teeth rotating back and forth, ***** the gore and guts out of me with its enormous tongue, curling the organs into its mouth.
I can see that this thing was once human, with its heavy eyes glaring at my face, trying to see that I was more than just a meat sack waiting to be eaten.  For this moment, I am the monsterś life source. In this minute, before it goes to finish off my family downstairs, the creature is somehow keeping me alive.  
As I try to close my eyes to die off,  this thing, this Ït¨ won’t let me.  The monster  wants me to see something. I hear a voice inside my head say “Stand up I want to show you something amazing.¨  I do what it tells me. I stand.  And then I start walking toward the blood covered stairs.
The sound of buzzing and thumping captures my attention. Without hesitation I jump the stairs to the bottom.  I see blood splattered over the walls and furniture. The bodys were torn apart and spread across the floor as I looked around the room. The thumping grows louder as it gets closer, searching for me.
!!Then I see her.  One girl still alive, still kicking, with blood all over her face. Her white dress was *****, ******, and torn up. you could see the skin off her thigh it was clearly human, with beautiful tan skin, it had dirt and blood mixed together to make almost rust colored prints up and down her legs. Then the voice in my head said ¨ look closer my boy, blink a couple times if you must. Things aren't always what the seem to be¨, so i blinked and rubbed my eyes a little. The girl slowly turned into this horrific figure. The legs had bites taken out of them, the skin was black and rotten the dress was drenched in blood. It was torn up so much that you could see most of her internal organs hanging out, but still, they were holding on by just a couple threads of flesh.
The little girl i saw only a couple seconds ago was completely gone and replaced with a rotting corpse that looks like it had be here for years, untouched by everything until an animal came in and ripped chunks out of her body to disturb the silence and peace her body had with the world. Her face was torn off entirely nothing left but broken, displaced, rotting bone and flesh. I could see that her body was being held up by strings attached to the ceiling, yet they were stitched into her head and body. Then out of nowhere she screeched, breaking her jaw off its hinges, and she jumped on top of me starting to tear out my flesh and bone.
I could not feel the pain I was supposed to, it was strange because death was not a concern to me at the time. I just want to drift off into the darkness in the back of my mind, and so I did with one last thought of her ̈I am coming Hope we will see each other, once again ̈.


Chapter 3
Obedience
It was an early night for me when my family went out of town to get away from me and my problems, and I prayed to God to send down a sign that i can have one person or one thing become loyal and trusting.
Around 11:30pm, I was suddenly awoken by an unearthly screech, it sounded like it was coming from right outside the window. Yet it still sounded like it came from right next to my ear, it sounded enormous and deadly with its piercing screech. I got up from my comfortable bed and went to the window only to see a silhouette of a giant creature leap into the darkness only meters away from where it was standing. I thought to myself that it must have powerful hind legs for it to jump that far. My mind was racing, thinking about if that creature only ran away because it saw me or if it did that on purpose, I can not stop thinking about whether or not I locked the door.
The next thing I knew, I heard banging around in the kitchen and I thought I heard a growl of some sort. Then the steps started creaking with a heavy thud, the beast is getting closer. It can smell the fear inside my mind. I can hear the light small breaths easing closer and closer to the door. The monster is at the door, I can see it’s shadow staying still right in front of the door. The seconds ticking by is increasing the tension between the terror in my mind and the horror beyond the door.
With a mind full of twisted things and different ways the next minute can go, I didn’t realize the creature had already opened the door and was peeking its head inside. The things head was pale with small strands of hair coming out the top, the teeth were sharp with blots of blue at the tip. Its horns were the most torn up almost like they went through a tree shredder, and still made it out without a second to spare. The face looked like a wendigo but had longer ears and more of a sharp dagger like eyes set on one thing and one thing only, meat. And from the looks of it I was the only meat around for a while.
From the second our eyes met I knew for a complete fact, my life was over. The beast started to walk up to me, and without hesitation, I put my hands out in front to protect myself. It just stood there for a quick second then it leaned its forehead against my palm and started to growl something then stopped itself before any sounds could come out. I said out loud “what the **** are you doing, do something”, upon hearing this, the beast says to me in a calm but deep voice “Is this what you wish me to do”?
I gaze upon its face as it says these words, as if I have never heard anything talk before. I never knew that the beasts of the forgotten woods can speak the same way as humans. The ones that speak to people when in their natural form are called familiar’s. I have never heard of one in real life, these things are usually in video games and story books maybe even folklore.
The creature spoke with fragile and gentle words when it said once again “is this what you wish me to do?”, I had no clue what I wanted to say to it. Before I could think, I said “what do you want from me”. The creature answered- with these exact words, “for you to command my soul. In doing so, you will wash away my eternal damnation, curing me to go back to the place for which I would call home and you heaven”.
I was staring in awe, when it stood there for a good minute or two. I then mustered up the courage to say “what do I call you from here on out? Or do I just name you”? The beast spoke in one of the most soothing voices I have ever heard when it said “Arzania rolice was my name before I became this hideous demon, devouring humans who defy the natural law of the wicked.” with a resentful manner when it ended that sentence.
I then said with surprise in my tone, “so you were a woman”. “Were?” said arzania with a bit of anger in her voice. “Were!? I still am! For your information during the day I originate back, and turn at night.” she said with that little bit of anger turning into sadness.

to consume is to live
the simple rule of nature
you must **** to survive
whether it be plant or animal

the intricacies of such
matter not
for it boils down
to eat or be eaten

and such the humans reign
in their self-glorified manger
of sparkling cities
and flashing lights

but carnage appears
creates gorey rumors
and speculations
tend to run amok

ambitious chunks of flesh
torn from fragile bodies
the teeth of a human
but the spirit of a monster

death rattles through the streets
on the bones of the fallen
self-preservation
tugs its followers behind

putrid stench
rotting antlers
skin and bones
and blood

the wendigo has arrived.

i've no need to explain myself but a short post about who i am will do most good. as I've studied the psychology and remember that people like to know things.

my name is Sylvester J. Michaelis
i'm puerto-rican, african, and mayan
I enjoy Edgar Allen Poe, Sally face, Sherlock holmes (probably to an unhealthy extent), Alice in wonderland, and true crime
I love Lavender, Roses, Honey, and raspberries
I enjoy the company of cats and birds
I've aspd ( it can be further explained in my poetry)
I feel the best way to express myself is to be cryptically, so I don't get hurt again.
I have a wonderful partner Who I value and hold dear to my heart.
My best friend suggested this website to me
im just your local wendigo prince
instagram: Isolatedarsenic
Twitter: Eleganceingrey

all my life
i spent waiting
waiting for the words
i should have said
flapping the desperate wings
of conciousness

                           a drugged pig

waiting for some ineffable her
with wendigo lust
and my ship to come in

                           a woman grinning with a knife in her hand

waiting for a new transformed me
that could do math
better than a decapitated dolls head
and write obscene poems
in plyometrics
of self-presentation
to **** by

                             catching up with a future that will never
                               come          

and not do it all wrong
so disgusting becomes beautiful
in the portico
of some gothic ***-mare
dripping imagination
that bankrupts reality
in a fashionably pretentious way

                             the devils ***** flirting    

maybe disgusting is beautiful
in a fierce burning of ethical piety
and praising moral turpitude
where islands of *****
tuck in sweet wet mouths and ascend
under ***** glittering moons

                                   dancing stiletto's in a savage hula

i wait to understand myself and others
in dumb silence
but my shadow alludes me
without a private moment of the heart
and rigid architectural order
to give a pathology of poems
sparkling language

                                    to find the blood and guts of words  

my fumbling
a catastrophe
as i wait to get up the nerve
imagining myself smarter
taller faster bigger
writing better poems of unrequited lust
in wild cherry red asymmetrical verse

                                   hoola hoops and dragons

waiting to get older
and wondering why i always felt
like i was waiting for others to die
and finally to die myself

                                time flies when your dead

could i handle it
in its juxtapositions
and fatal discontinuities
as if i get to decide
so called
master of my own ship

                                 Andromeda crashes the Milky Way
its unnerving
so lets get this over with
although i hope death
doesn't happen too soon
even though i make frivolous ******
and slippery associations  
with her as she welcomes my
galoshes wearing
Trojan horse
over the moat
passed widened thighs
into her grand **** courtyard

                                           ****** feet with pointed toes    

Venus is never
completely happy
unless she feels
Pluto's edge
forcing her submission
in willing chains
from out of proms' blazing date
into a congenial poem
passed a cliché of grunts

                                        *** slave grovels to be corrected

but the waiting
for a fanatical delusion
of waking tongues
and self-destructive fury
is only sacred
when it burns like hell
on creaking beds
that rattle about the room
in this grove of infelicities
and tapestries of flame

                                             prehistoric clitori indulge ****** politics

a performance
in a rearranged reality
we can not understand

I am haunted by a thought I hold,
A vision that I can’t let go,
And words I’ve never told.
But I push on, I heave, I **
And I follow the wendigo
Of you and I