Reply to "Remembering Terence Sellers aka Mistress Angel Stern"

Open me up and find the perfect place to get lost.

I offer you vicious beauty of my voice before the humans wanted it to make sense.

Your voice, lit cigarette against pyramid on the dollar bill of my coronary muscle.

My spirit runs along the ridges above the Gila River threading  lightening strikes, laughing

like cum you sweetly frightened.

I blessblame that Miller girl for introducing us the way scar is seduced back beneath skin.

A blame made of the scent of leather and pale pink roots of extracted wisdom teeth. 

Celebrating still, are you now, I doubt not, a command of nature no one knew they had.

Perish from here, as you will, you still have us, and I do not fear where you guide us.

Wasn't it always your miracle, to penetrate the boundary we see as impossible for ourselves?

 

×
×
×
×