31 May 2011

Leaking heart

in the night a heart is leaking white goo into the ether like a mononucleosis would have crept down from any given throat into it. the owner of this heart in question is lucky to be accompanied by a witch, a real life witch, who has come south to heal and guide one in the battle against false ego structures and in behalf of ethereal hearts. 

ladies and gents, tonight we experience hell sinking into the pit where light was once born. we are under the watchful eye of uriel - we are in tartarus.

“fuck I knew it. this is the wrong entrance,” says the witch while standing in front of an opening to an old train tunnel in pasila. she and her comrade can see a small purple beam of pulsating light at the other end of the tunnel over one kilometer away in the northeast. two twenty am is a rare hour in these latitudes in translating to darkness which pales in comparison to that of the tunnel.

rocks the size of kid's fists underneath their feet the two begin walking, arm in arm. the darkness wraps them into itself totally, giving signs of life only in the form of a few dark figures passing them on their way to the opposite direction. the silence is surreal, because they both possess the knowledge of the source of the emanating purple glow being tied to very, very loud music.

in her mind the dyke with the leaking heart suddenly knows she is walking away from her who she once decided to know as dominique. supported by the strength and warmth of the arm in her arm she lets her heart beat words in the form of green goo into the ether.

perché, perché
mia dominique

did you decide to serve your image
without realizing it to be but a visage?

perché, perché
bella dominique

do you hide your beautiful eyes from my gaze
because of obscuring all that your ego betrays?

perché, perché
ebete dominique

does your heart still race at the sight of my words
or has your deceit had it fed to gray matter lizards?

as she begins to feel the bass under her shoes she wishes to find a new muse. the darkness sighs in the hope of her learning sooner than later that the best such sources of inspiration are never in any way external. though, in truth, they were not so in the case of dominique either.

having walked nearly a kilometer deep under blocks of concrete buildings the music finally reaches the ears of the two, who begin to howl and roar and bark like wolves. as they sashay through the masses of men bathing in neon lights the final twist to the structure of reality is laid by an egyptian playing the role of anubis in handing out some cannabis.

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