The ideas...The thoughts... The wishes, hopes and dreams clouded with high mountain snow, freezing heavy, falling slow down by train tracks...You let yourself alone and the whole world watches bombs fly far away, from home, killing through the glow, drinking tea with cookies and worried that the weather might inturupt reception... In the basement I can dream again, with my nose plastered to the inseams of books, naked under the sheets, sometimes sweating out words to pages unseen... All that is spins, reels, fizzes, bangs about my head when the lights go out and the candles are lit, breathing heavy, heart beating loud, the room shaking and the cieling bending in but I push it up like I had a flagpole, like Samson gone completley bald and then growing hair again, holding the weight of an empire above his arms, balancing destuction and yet more justice across his cock...Evil trys to slip in under the door and I welcome it, with arms open wide, smiling like an gargoyle, reaching out to kiss and caress it's body with oils and perfumes. I let it lay with me in bed and tell it stories of times before land mines and cottoncandy, when the earth did love its moon and sun, when plants did grow, when the sky was still blue. It takes flight knowing it has been tricked into submission so I can bite off it's head and tail and swallow it whole. I leave the doors open, it will be back. I read and injest books like bread down here where winds can't reach me. The stars don't see me, the sun tries but can't touch me. Me like a troll under a bridge letting no souls pass. Some bloodline or another comes down and shut it out with cruel looks, beaming curses, letting it think I still cannot speak. I lay down here, alone, and touching myself, calling angels, casting spells and brewing juices, letting my body twist and climb over the walls. My whole being has been cut loose again and has to dweal down here untill it's time: for flying and swiming in mouths of cement rivers, crushing whole cities, beating off the devils with silver linked chains, swilling blood and breathing water through gills, chasing ghosts and slaying dragons, finding love and keeping it for once. They say a hanging man hears music so I shut my ears these days, hearing instead my own music, and dream of skin, no sin, where all the blood flows free and she likes to touch me. I dream of it all and somehow even the danger of falling doesn't take hold, pushing me back,dragging me down, crushing my spine between King Kongs hands, no, it reminds me of the importance of pure poetry and beautiful women, longing butterflies cuaght in my tummy, thinking of her pleasing herself, moaning, sweating honey and sugar, biting her lip untill it swells, arching her back in the bathtub as water flows over, grabing her breast,closing her eye's and clutching her ass, screaming, pleased to be alone, seeing stars and ringing bells saying,

'Heavens been had.'

The universe implodes and she has it in the palm of her hand. It's pea sized and colorered of fire, swirling. The gods want it back but she lays it gently on her belly and continues the ritual with a laugh...She's on the street now, on the prowl, struting and purring, like a bobcat, stalking prey like a predetor with fangs and night vision. Holymen hire hitmen to capature her, at all costs, alive if possible. She can transform her apperence as she pleases, instantly melting like ice, the ultimate chameleon, camoflaged skin, fur and feathers. Governments issue martial law, inforcing a curfue, in hopes she will not abide. The mother has no curfue, she spins and flips and blows, clipping pousers at the heal, leaving a brand on thier asses and a kiss on thier lips, a kiss goodbye, with no sympathy or remorse, without any thought to something as trival as time. Shes in Zion, watching baby's being born, the only thing pure. She decides on an earthquake and the palace crumbles, like a toy kingdom, washing away corruption with lava valcanos. The wind blows taking her to an uninhibited island where all is hers to frolic and play in, resting for three days and nights while the searchlights glow and bedlam redefines human nature. On the ocean, with her legs spread wide greeting the tide, she pleases herself with the universe, gently rolling it over and around, sometimes letting it rest in a fold of skin, she summons an ocean of her own, as all that is shakes and explodes and becomes new again.