hellsforheroes

I was raped, absolutely raped, getting punished by her never ending hunger, like she had never eaten a single morsel, like she had just spent time camped away with all the starving little boys and girls that had their hair chopped off, and their humanization stripped, she ravaged my tree, like the Swiss family Robinson, setting up forts, and swings, a playground for candy cane cocaine hotel room adulteration, her epiphany of extrapolating anything I might begin to mutter, I breathed, she breathed harder, I gulped, she ate my fucking throat. I was sworn by some angel that some demon told her there was a succubus on the loose, but I must have not listened. The windows saw my ass, the carpet soaked my pain, the ceiling began to cry, and scream why god why, why must he die to this nymph, why must he die, they were loyal my room, I was begging for mercy, and they decided to take up my cause, friends like dogs, like boys from the way back then, ah yes, my radio, and my showermy shower. I was on my way to a saving grace of a shower baptismal, all that sin must be washed, all that sin, must be washed.

I was in the back of my mind, contemplating love, the wavelength short enough to slide under the door, the option inconceivable until you are there. I was thinking about how another man explained love as home, a hug feels like your world is with you. Love is home, love is a sleeve, Zach. I was blind in the fog of some thought, somehow the shower being a beacon of changing mental waves, mental electricity, alpha beta, and a shower knob, again with the phone calling her. She bracing my crotch like a pet owner holding their pooch, I was maybe in love. I didnt think, ever, again, never her. I was in a moment; I was always in the moment. I was jumping a race like a cool runnings, a blazer in the furnace and her lips tugging at me again for something like communion, maybe my flesh as bread, maybe my blood as wine, my soul eaten in a beer bong, as in a breathless bong, a smoke inhalation into her mouth. What I had left, was in her belly, waving to Mickey mouse as memories faded into allegory, as systems blended into transcending incandescence, she cut my hair, she bathed me, she fed me, I made her laugh, I made her look at god with even eyes, crying and coming fortunate prophecies of levitation and astral extrapolation, She became my firefly symphony, and I died in grasses chilled like white wine burning in my nose, pagans jealous, the lord ambidextrous, pivoting revelations like an apostle on sabbatical, joy uncanny, control not allowed, just blind blends of paint, brushes and tenderness, I knew her womb as the greatest voice preaching harmony like poetry and deafening my senses by breaking them into galaxies and stars like pathological lies, too good to entice even the slightest of faith but enduring the grandest parade of contemplation, an autopilot of joy past the sun falling pacific, her pink eyelids the spider web strength of the holding back of my church, and something I believe in as the meaning of life being put in a ocean rock side chapel of glass washed sea seasoned mystery, passion like sand, bliss like waves, worship like air, in every ether before Einstein and in every sexual thought before Freud, dying like pilgrims, slim and barren needing only each other as sustenance eating our engulfing souls because no other task seemed grand enough, seemed precious enough, love, as the only expression for the flash, love as cooing, blankets as bedding, her breathe as a monastery of cherishing virtue slain by cavernous vines, wilting flowering hallucinating tangible glory.

I was asleep in the shower when she came and got me, turning the knob, and toweling my wet head into her breast. I was worn and faded, broken and raped, a husk like a corn cob messiah, a twister shy of Texas. She dried me, kissed me sweet, and sang my brown eyes deeper into her heart.