I. the Dragon Calls

another yule drawn to close
they say a time for new beginnings:
cyclical, born again, rejuvenated with the sun
but it's all a game -- defiance in the dark's longest night
and yet these are just passing notions, just words
just words we rehearse and pretend at the meaning

scant days in the new year, everything is fresh
I'm daring to hope yet again
but, again, this is just passing notion, just words
like the scathing words you lash at me
beating me down until I flee, hiding in the dark, long nights

Off with this band that binds, but I know I will never throw it
just cower in the dark, praying for change
the strength to stand up
defiant

... the strength to ignore that siren song
fucking white powder siren from the past
who renders strength and words and everything else irrelevant

praying to the gods out of desperation
lacking the courage for courage
...just want things to stop
...just want things to stop



and the heroine of the story promises oblivion
so sweet...
so sweet...




II. Secret Lover

The voice is screaming at me again
but I just sorta fades away, don't really care:
there's a pattern in the ceiling tiles that I can't quite define
it fascinates
writhing in spirals and ripples
spirals and ripples
spirals and ripples

The voice is yelling again
probably saying cancerous things, but the spirals and ripples and gossamer wings...
I don't bother to understand any of them
just words

Later, the echoes will resonate in my marrow, my head
at least, until that secret lance of the tongue
and an instance of pain and this orgasm will ride me through the bitter




III. The Dragon Aesthetic

no amount of years away from the english catholic church
can seem to break lying suppline in hours of darkest need
even though my Lady Bitch has no mercy for my weakness
desperate times, desperate ways

so I pretend I'm a poet awash in the dragon
write my stains while the world rages on



I'm going nowhere fast
and everything else moves further and further away





I am lacking authenticity because there is no dragon aesthetic
only Midas Art, where everything I touch is written in lines of shit


previously published in "Megaera"