Wilderness arising from a sprig, losing itself over these many years.  Easy relating to as I’m nature’s irascible son.  Feeling as if I’ve been here for too long, wandering woods out my back door.  Connecting with the ambiguity & strangeness of hid & slithering things.  A damp world in which things are born with urgency.

From very early on I consider how little I connect to anything else, but it isn’t until I eat a part of her heart that I’m driven to know her better.  Blackened mushroom in the palm of my hand throbbing indiscernible.  I can feel it, though, tampering with my fear.  Afraid to awaken the dead, those I left behind when I came to this place …

The earth – my home?  A lie.  Perfectly timed in light of borrowed titles; kingdom erecting doubt, shrouding nakedness with scorn.  The leaden ceremony goes on, without the lightness of an erected bough transmitting into space.  Everything is weighed down by the Word.  Cloven repeal: eradicating life or meaning.  I go in search of the Word myself. Undercovering witnesses to the vanquishing scheme long before my time.  

Alchemists & poets surviving in the pre-dawn.  Dark age conquering body, but not always spirit.  Tortured screams in streets everywhere they turn, plague spreads driving the most resourceful away.  Only in a surrounding wood, black & gnarled, will they discover anything resembling life.  Even as nightfall cascades down from the highest tower, they build a fire at the mouth of a cave.


It’s only those words we’re not meant to read that the first hint of freedom is revealed.  Suicidal ramblings of discontented psychopomps; becoming like beasts in their own way, to better understand its fleeting message.  Writ in blood in the Hour of the Phoenix, created through the destruction of a hymn.

Beautiful words that flow like diamonds, toppling down a majestic cliffside in the mode of a waterfall.  Modulations bust, soundlessly drifting over a constantly permuting landscape.  Faces leering from stars; another transitory constellation, breezing over emerald valleys.  Those who can see it lie in tall grass absorbing changes taking place …

The dust is more alive than dead; living in the pages for all time, until final war gives her back what she wants.  Instantly, all our visions will be crushed!  Kin.  Ones I wrote about before.   I lived with them in a house of souls, bordering tenants of astral hallucinations.  Days & nights melded like orderly verse – broken moments when we’re too drunk to talk.  A land filled with heavy noise & smoke.  Desert stretching between us: of haunted portals & djinn – Wake up!  The night is young!  Consuming more drugs just to stay alert.  Pushing through the topsoil while in agony.    


Where did we go as night bartered for our attention?  Had nature been alert to it she’d of invited us long before.  All those years I went looking, crawling through barbed vines into the darkest tunnels I could find.  Anger mounting as I could not reach states I longed for: irreal distinction, with a greater understanding of celestial orders, poetic augury …

She’d given me all the things I desired before.  It was with the love only a mother can provide that she took me in.  Drenching her innards with my seed: fount of inspiration driving my pen forward.  So many creatures born from our union; blind, slipping around in the mud, wrested from the chaos of spleen.

A sword forged out of reason.   The only way to stay alive.  Hacking away for years trying to get away – violence leads to escaping.  When the world crawls all over you like a swarm of fire ants while the edges boil in cool darkness.  I become the worm that rolls right over them with stark, yet casual, epiphanies.  One, a purple decoy, standing alone at the foot of the stairs, ascending without purpose …

What is beyond the eternal shadow?  Standing withered in a gutted expanse of trees, there is this figure standing in the wind.  Staring up at the vortex above, shoulders hunched.  Salivating blood down to their feet, soil sucks up the gesture with not a modicum of gratitude.  Sloughing the skin of a thousand dead summers, times you filled my head with decrees of runaway spirits.  I chased them through green canyons & over blackened hills.  A wilderness like no other, radiating my skull with dire impressions: elemental progeny, silhouetted in the grass on my way.  


I give birth to those who gave birth to me.  That’s what I do.  Anything else would be legendary.  Can’t you see the blood spatter on my arms & face? Was there ever any stopping me?  

The reality, sadly, is yes.  Seed is mutating again.  Questions answered long ago have adorned new faces.  Nature’s effigy is not fully known.  A name I’ll take to my grave, yet can’t live without.  I touch its beating heart in my thoughts when I feel the urge to kill.  No relief, though, in a world like this …

Putting down my pen, the thing that connects me back to the beginning …

I feel like I’m going to be sick.  Fading lines, walls climb.  Vines behind me eyes turn to soot & are blown away by terminal winds.  Dragged through mud for hours until I am calm enough to turn around.   Following the damage to a place where sands sink & wilderness is flat & barren.  Back to nights when all is seen in the purple auras of a silent tribe.  Still, one sits near.  Gazing across.  A ghost from another life?

A chill creeping through my bones.  Ears buzzing from headphone assault as my eyes water up.  Looking over the final verses, turning my back on a spirit I know is there …  

I can hear it breathing!  With no distinction between itself or any other outlying being.  It is how she taught me to feel: transmogrifying states, enough to situate itself in a multitude of spaces, vast, orbiting domains.  

So how, then, has this one come back after so many years?

Followed me out of the wilderness it did.  The stars.  Purple radiance of fungal travelers.  It is there on the day I am born & now it’s back.  Now, a swirling hole in the center of my room.  Imploded Magnetar.  Born out of madness.  Tearing wildly down the streets.  Destroying, with apathy, all that came before it.  Alive beyond measure.  Dead without a doubt.  Once a writhing, crimson fury that ravaged through lands & dimensions, reduced to yet another collapsing star.