For we are incandescent stars circling different orbits

On a reclining bed, ceiling gazing
A pillow beneath my head
Perfecting my spinal disfigurement

If I wore a Guy Fawkes mask to sleep
Will it induce the sleep paralysis I’ve yearned for?
I want to dream of derailing trains,
Weep upon an Aurora Borealis
Lust for my profane love,
And watch a nebula disintegrate into
The nothingness of a pitch black hole.

Here, there is no shelter from the rain and the pain
Of errant skull shattering hail stones of no mercy.
All I need is for you to
Talk to me, ravish me, lynch me
And spit in my face.
As you scourge me,

For ye, For all our shared deeper conversations:
With Love


Fettered, manacled, hung from chains.

Or will self flagellation be a more alluring option?

Please build me a hollow home in a dark, dank chamber.
A hermit who can hurt no one but myself

For we are incandescent stars circling different orbits
Perhaps someday we will meet, greet ,
Then crash and burn

The spectacle
The Mise en Scene
The Sublime