Lysergic Acid Diethylamide Reportage v.03, a.k.a. LSD Reportage

Invisible or 

just dark on dark...

Do you feel 

the draw of it

like I do....?

I'm being birthed out the end of it

the wet bottom we all share

and now as the last strains die out

we stand up and 

we lie back down

I am become becoming become

the time striped old wizard gorilla

wizened by my travails 

my travels internal

Silver-haired and dappled

weather-weathered

silver chested 

whit of wisdom 

once weened from 

the mysterical tit

a lifted pear 
hysterically lit

lifted toward a fading vision

recanting recollection unwoven

retelling and retold 

and with each telling

re-dying, dying again and again 

on the same floor

the common ground fading

now patterned in intricate grids

layers of curving black feathers

woven by hands into silver 

edged black paper 

Victorian frames

on the lace-lined edges
all in motion

our very own 

breathing kaleidoscope
our very own bodies 

twisting pirouettes

these sad attempts 

to record the lost imperfections

of a bounding wordless nymph

sharp like contrast

blaring whores 

of a blinding bare page

leave us alone now

barren in our losses
kicked down and up 
and wanting nothing

but to sleep to sleep 

not "the eternal..."

just for a moment 

between clarion thoughts
alarming

having witnessed and told nothing

told none of the inter-dimensional details or designs

shared with no one 

newly discovered Fraddadian principles 

once stated now muttered

hexameters of heaving stumblings

arm lengths of catatonic cataclysms

remembered rec. room catechisms 

filling summer afternoons 

with the dull insect buzz 

of ignorant misinformation

Bathories of extent extant

deep in the whole

left behind like an abscess 
manmade crater made of man

the living skin through which we breathe

the sheath that holds us gently

the folds going deeper across time 

cut they fold again they bind

the feathers overlapping 

rapidly dissipating
patterns denigrating

rapidly approaching 

lost memory tumbled by time

a perpetual "one more tale before bed"

match head never failing to strike

at the very least left alive

climbing over my own body

burning wet blankets 

wallowing in waves of sweat

wrestling around in it

savoring the last sad cherries of a summer day misspent

burning angels with what's left of it

making angels not angles

let me sleep, if only for a moment, let me sleep

but begging who now...??

I shall return to this task when I awaken

marked and claimed I be

Pentangle of the Midnight Circumference 

sworn hence

to be star bound and 
howling from the balcony

through a doorway of my own making
in a mast of some others' breaking

"For the first time ever, I don't hurt!"

come then 

earn your pearls

earn these last mad trappings

the cold dark claiming 

these leathery 
dripped strappings

Submit now 

to these last 

burning angles
angels