The speakers are on,
The lights are blaring,
The magic is gone,
And I’m left despairing,
Casting about for a faerie who’s vanished,
Lightning in a bottle,
A sprite so delightful
That she leaves you famished
Whenever you’ve been banished
From her circle of rites.
They say “Goddess” a lot these days,
But I really know her blaze,
What she says,
What if feels like when we exchange gazes,
When she caresses my skin and whispers on my ear that my sins in her name are just Praise.
She is the beating heart of this whole scene,
The rhythm I dance to,
The vision I’ve seen.
And She’s completely run through my fingers
Like water
Or sand
Or quicksilver in the hand.
“When you came for me
Your will was not pure,
Your intent undefined,
Your presence did not land,
Your heart divided-
And that I cannot stand.
And isn’t there something that you forgot to bind?”
All this she implied
Through low-lidded glances.
Like a demon I’ve summoned and failed to appease,
A deal that I’ve struck and not delivered on the fee,
A loophole missed, mudra in a trembling fist,
A line spoken wrong (or ten),
A novice evocation hissed
Through inartful lips,
And now all I’m left with is grist;
Nothing but grist for my mill.
Flippant connections and breezy affections,
Failed dreams
of festivals and reams
Of IOU’s sent but never spent.
Gleams of a Goddess who went-
And left a silhouette,
A sliver of a crescent,
In her wake a neutron star,
Hard black husk of spent fuel’s char,
The degenerate matter of some degenerated matter from afar.
Or not even-
Strong force gone weak,
Bonds begin to creak,
Forms collapse and atoms leak
Everywhere.
A reaction-chain,
runaway qlipphotic train,
“Things fall apart” and can’t maintain
their heart.
She’s gone and the Glamour’s worn off, you see,
And what was once voluptuous now appears beastly:
A profusion of confusion, careless relationships, idiot psychedelica, bass so heavy it smothers your insides, k-holes that fall through sinkholes that fall through nowhere, sex spread so wide and diffuse you’d need a net just to catch a few droplets of it, all this collected as tribute to the Devil, placed on his altar and entered into a ledger- his column black, yours straight red.
And I am in the thick of all of it.
The speakers are on.
The lights are blaring,
The magic is gone,
And I am tearing
This whole god damned place to the ground
if it pleases me.
And I am preparing
A new home for Her
if it pleases She.