Smoking the Sun
I am smoking the sun at last -
Its flavor like the burning orange I have always flamed
inside the infernal love and lust of my mind.
I am dragging the vast and greying force
into slackened form of fated crumble.
And with the craving of ashes to become one
with blind, scattered oblivion of origins and ends –
this is the eternal moment of mad imagination!
I am smoking the sun at last – the core of a pleasure –
The cure for sucking as it lights the way to the filtering desire.
It’s now stained with hellish deposits of revolting black nauseated - my shade satisfied.
I am breathing Sun as she absorbs the moistened flesh.
And as the hot ashes of being cycles cold into heat once more;
And as the breathing rhythmically nears its repose
It reeks incessantly of glorious revolt!