I cut through you with my glorious knife, letting blood, rending flesh. You know my name, ha, ha, it is formless, it is soundless, but you feel it as your flesh is stripped from bone and pulled into the icy whirlwind. The hierarchy of organic existence is a house of cards that I huff and puff and blow down, down, down into the swirling abyss. And you push and pull to set her back up and see your own reflection in her structure, but let me set you straight, it is really my image that you see in your own and I have none, ha, ha.
So you see, what you see, is a trick of light, a light bending game. You are a magician and I am a big black box; through me things manifest and through me they vanish, never to be found again. Ha, ha. I am the magician and I am the box, but as a matter of fission, of division and variation, you proclaim yourself “I that I am” and run about making the grass green, making the sad man sad, ha, ha, and the angry woman angry.
You are the “I am I”, and I am the something that you bump blindly into and then name to make it visible in your magickal kingdom. It’s your fairytale. It’s my fairytale. Our fairytale. Fusion my dear, my dear, occurs when you put yourself back in the box, ha, ha, and we vanish together, in unity enlightenment, death.
But isn’t it funny that you keep wriggling away from my embrace? My red hot love endlessly flowing, devouring flesh, with razor sharp teeth, my adoring clown grin begging for one more kissssssssssssssss.
Forget the name darling, you know ME. Maybe you’d rather forget, ha, ha, ha, but you know, you know… The normal escape route is out into the myriad of forms and beings and existences that constitute the expansion and flowing destiny of what is, and everything is, radiating out from a bubble in space, ha, ha, a little cosmic indigestion.
And me, I am the inverse of that space bubble. You know what that is, don’t you? You have a name for that too, ha, ha. But you could just call me mommy, standing here with my knife, my glorious knife, you could call me huntress, or Tyger, Tyger or you could just shut up.
Because, you see, my darling, I’m going to get you, and bring you home, one way or another, and where we’re going, a scream is a silent thing, ha, ha. Where we’re going there are no names. Narrow is the way, and few are the chosen, ha, ha. It is formless, it is soundless, but you feel it as your flesh is stripped from bone and pulled into the icy whirlwind.
I’ve been waiting for this kiss, letting blood, rending flesh, grinding bone. I cut through you with my glorious knife and you know ME, you remember me now, ha, ha. Ha, ha ,ha.
