p.p1 of myself that never existed drowning in

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Enamoured by the translucent moonlight and scared of the seas I wanted to liquefy myself into something less than human. I dreamt of swallowing the seas, feeling them heave in my stomach and harvesting the moons in the star-rushed skies, the feeling of interstellar matter billowing in my lungs. I’m trying to spin truths from the stars only to awaken and see shadows of your irregular heartbeat imprinted into the bed-sheets, your ghostly warmth cloaking my forlorn figure. How could my cesspool of greed (rotten and entrenched in wretched ambition) breed so a sweet anomalous vision? Such perihelion! I could almost touch your ghost but you are a luxury and I’m just dancing along to the gentle swoon of my own song cloaked in my own fantasies. How is it that such a cesspool of greed could breed a vision of such a sweet anomalous reality? 

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In this star-speckled darkness, through my superficial lens, I absorb the moon’s ardent pallor and watch as my veins transfigure into great Neptune’s rivers. My bones bulge with stardust and moon-rust torrents that scorch my heart. My fountains become flesh and my livid skin, in its flush form, mounts ichor to blood. A full-bodied honeyed wine: a blue into red. The fissures in my skin buckle under the cataclysmic onrush of nebulae that speak in lullabies and keep their secrets in troves, words drowned until they metamorphose into insipid versions of their former selves. I can still taste celestial nights and the slight patina of bruises from the scornful words that we preached to gods who have long forgotten us. It’s a harlequin heaven of silk skies, red sunsets, fizzing blood and twitchy fists. I envisioned you as a saint’s treachery on a heavenly muse, drinking Dionysus’s wrath from the poet soaked in an opiate haze. My heart is yearning for a zenith where your heart would beat for nobody else but me. I just want to know that when shooting stars erupt in my veins the sound of your name will forever disappear. I can see parts of myself that never existed drowning in memories of you, galaxies that used to slumber inside of me erupt with even the brief mention of your name. I saw you as the universe but you saw me as a mere speck of dust. 

I still remember the smiles of lost lovers as they followed their odyssey under the blooming clouds. Leaking through my teeth like a genesis, you were cherry-sanguine in my mouth, leaving traces of raw vanities I would never say out loud. Soon I will gather my benedictions and fall into a state of docile decay like the tempest, with a halo of blinding, dizzying daydreams. From my rotting body flowers shall grow: intertwining stems of amaryllises and chrysanthemums that will fill the cavities in my lungs and the void in my stomach and in them I am eternal. 

Sometimes I imagine myself to be part human, part terrible monster. They named me Saturn because I am a giant. I inherited their hunger: popped jaw, sharp teeth: I unstrung your heart hid it behind my teeth like calcium diamonds. My mouth is now a catacomb of saccharine rotten teeth like a putrescent overripe fruit tasting like noxious fair floss and blood candy. Not even in the fiery days of my youth did I wish for such a charry torment to rive my soul. My soul smokes out of my mouth in frayed-white breaths, it’s a rendition of holy buds of myrrh unfurling in Tartarus. Holy, seething holy. Teeth! From the wild heaven’s they protrude. With the depravity of a wild hunter, devilish greed beguiles me to hunger, to covet: flesh upon flesh upon flesh. My axes unfurl and wither – Icarus would have been proud of my downfall. There is no more need for talismans. My redemptions have drowned in the bluster’s belly: monsters have become my patron saints, I have been saved and absolved by them. I’ll open my closet and fly out with my skeletons.