Much delirium greets me this eve as i shift deeper into the velvety darkness & the night drips in through the glass door - thick black shadows dripping & falling down the glass - across the floor towards me... & the rain too - falls slow & cold - just beyond my reach... Distant laughter drifts from muffled shadows - ah beyond... & here i sit, ever present cask o' red... The slow summer melts on - so cool & rainy - & the earth bristling up so lush - the startling brilliant translucence blinds me... & the musky heaviness of languid night - what solace the darkness brings as its shadows enfold me –
from the blackest night i call out for you, search this darkness for your arms, i find only emptiness, fears well in the depths- it's past midnight, we're tearing into the night- my arms fall alone & cold to my sides as i stare into the darkness- it's past midnight, hour of bad horror flicks on the tv, hour of black coffee & honey---i watch the dark press its cold face against the black panes of glass, hear my mother shudder in sleep- i've never known a blacker darkness---these hours my thoughts overflow, i never catch up, songs cut off short, everything grows meaning, sleep lies with its mouth open---i stare at the lights refracted in the dark glass - all the night has faded to shadow, i may see only the inside, here reflected-
i wish the night would go on forever, where i huddle in the silence, touch the cool damp panes - opening out into darkness---long empty hours of thoughts & fears- i am- i watch the night fade, dawn glimmering through the glass, translucent haze through the dark trees---i need this alone- i must create & create & create- i hunger for it, all frenzies channeled to this vein, never satiated, never empty- every night a new revelation, vision- the specters come, haunt- i'm immersed in creation, a new book emerges, the holy hour - descent into madness, deathlove- long dim nights of isolation, crouched over canvas, spilling color, pretending to be a mad French painter, gulping cheap sweet wine from Romania, thinking scenes from the hunger & obsession commercials- i want to live an obsession commercial-
the secret one hath crawled at last from my depths, i create, i live, i create- the flow has become a torrent in this isolation- in the dark, in the night, when electricity dies - the candles lit, i gather my pages like children about my skirts & scrawl out the visions of my night, invite the darkness to my eyes, to my lips---revel in it---all that claws its way up---"pour forth your soul in your closets & secret places---" i wish this feverish pace to never end, the trances come now of their own accord, i am flung from ecstasies to despairs & easily back again- i feel i feel i feel---my god never let such emotion die---
i hide in my room, venture out only into night - a soft warm rain & wet grasses, waxy-skinned dragonflies caught in spiderwebs - jeweled & quivering, black wolves calling to full moons, blood & kisses, dark, womanflesh---
i get lonely these nights---i venture out into the back garden & collect bones---i do this to feel- someone something is hiding in the empty dark-
men are dying out there in the darkness - eyes wide with fear & want, never touching in their struggle- others lie face down to each other, open & die---
i walk on the street, on the black, in the black, into nothing- the leaves droop towards the street, heavy with rain, leaving them slick, leaving them silver---
i want to spend my nights on a marble church pew in a sunken garden of giant Chinese silver grass, in the eerie glow of white flowers that sway in the heavy mist- a secret garden overflowing with lush fragrant flora, exotic grasses, herbs, supple languid women--- i want to be a Fendi model & spend my days kissing & fondling homoerotic Grecian statuary---
it has been lonely without mortal presence at my side these months- Dave Vanian sings sanctum sanctorum as i write---
my friends clutch crucifixes, dead flowers, give slow kisses in a dark room- wraith is alone & sad in Paris- he stays in a rain-drenched room in the top corner of a windy tower- through a small window, he watches a jar of flowers on a sill across the street, thinks it surreal- he writes, "Paris is full of angels---"
my mother tells me of her first acid trip- he gives her poems wrapped in ribbons- the shell of a house - the columns sprout from a field of flowers- cigarettes like roses, blooming, unfolding---"the gothic came out--- kings--- queens---"
she will turn away someday, hand me no more faces, no more masks, never again tell me who i am---
i fear too - a touch, or love - that will bring sweet death upon me before my request- i must remain ever pure-
i fear i fear i fear---
i must flee to my dark room & sing, you hang on my wall in a trance---
one night i'll go in secret, dark men's suit & purple hair everywhere---
i'll dance---i'll dance forever---
someday, i'll live in an old Victorian house in a forest---
i'll sleep in the cellar & paint in the attic, among the rusted trunks of lace & broken toys, & scrapbooks - pages of poetry, pressed flowers---i'll hide in my room & scrawl out a million pages to you, confessing everything---
we will sit on a stone in the forest, sip clover tea with ginger, slivers of lemon bread, tea wafers flavored with lime---
someday we can crawl into my bedroom & curl up on the floor- let me whisper all my secrets into the darkness, wrap your arms around me & cry---
i write you for i must---your eyes reveal my familiar - this for me is rare---i remain - bewitched---
i once held a violin, this, as everything else, fell from my grasp & was lost-
i grieve---
i want to give you something beautiful & important-
i will follow you as a shadow, whispering into your ears---in trance, you come to my room, eyes shining, teeth glistening through parted lips---
My bed is small and dark and warm, but you would fit here, perfectly: see, I've made a place. I have searched beneath each layer of velvet, empty crimson folds. I wish someday to have a dark cool unrestricting bed, and not this coffin box to feed my bruises day in and out. Ah freedom, to move as I will in the darkness. Can I only sleep when all's alight because I fear true darkness? Only within my own private dark may I enter dreams with security, with faith.
My fiends have fled, left me forlorn and alone. Again I must learn to love this solace and solitude I once sought with such relish. I will come to know this quiet darkness, immerse myself within its depths and together we shall create. It is only these hours when I long for such a touch, a long slow kiss. Who shall wander these midnight gardens with me? Shall I wander ever alone. I am not lost within, I know many paths and wish to share them.
I have been alone for so many years I sometimes fear I shall never know love again. How can I long so and yet balk and run when I see. Ah, what I see is not what I truly desire, for I desire not what was, but what I held within my grasp, for with times passage I have learned how to caress this, how to embrace. I feel I could and I long too. I feel frozen in the daylight, but when that darkness folds it's velvet lengths about my bare skin and the night sighs through the window and I drink that sweet red, dreaming only and ever of blood and flesh and pure pure love, I long I long I long. I shall die at the feet of all this impotent pining.
I want to feel - I want to die in another's arms again. My tears feed nothing. I have always longed to play and laugh and run in the night with you. Perhaps we shall still too. I remain innocent. I shall wither to dust before I may drink of the blood again. I must sink into these velvet sheets, beneath these black silk folds in my dark wooden cave and dream only of you. Please come to me in dreams. And be here by my side when I wake. I await thee.