Impossible Times

i was told not to read that book

it said right there on the cover

that if i did

i would become a scourge

like a hidden genies dagger

the sight of which would terrorize some

and draw others to me

those strange few

who cry to feel it wound their flesh

and crave its insertion

to lose themselves in rapture

who love

dangerous weapons of pleasure and pain

their kiss an obscenity

sure i thought

and as i read it anyway

it’s words

where like a cocked gun blasting

a slow motion bullet

like a bomb in the skull

shattering brains

with a storm of licking tongues

and kicking feet

my death scattered me

into a great light that casts a long shadow

of headless prancing nymphs

their menstruum,

kaleidoscopic winding red ribbons

fruits of both heaven and nightmares

like a river of elastic mouths

shifting form like chewed gum

thunder filled the house

a dark paradise found

lost in the realm of the senses

quaking and torn

from

this gleaming blade

its caress a sanctuary

pulled tight

over searching fingers

that roam for damp places

in a flickering daze

hiding a frozen scowl

in

impossible times