Hierophantasm

I taste your breath in the water Your winds are poison on my tongue You wade these creeks like you wanna Bury my face in the sun An I'll be just like you wanted Mute, sutures in my lungs But you won't ever find me, stunning This parenthetical thrum Cause you don't hide like me honey Not a place left to run Cause you don't hide like me honey And I know how to hunt And I know how to hunt Come out my way Let me show you where to lay your head Come out my baby Let me find my spade while you play While you play dead I want you dead girl I want you tongue I want it better girl I want your crumbs

In the shape of my ribs In the nave of my crib I dissent I dissent Useless, Useless Before I shape the bend I'd collide with my ends I feign it And I don't repent Useless, Useless Tame Still You're useless

I see it change I see it change In the mirror I see it change I see it change From blood red to grey I see it stain I see it stay shaped in your name I panic in your fangs I buck Then I break I see it pray I see it say in my own tongue Break my maw Make me strange Now I feel a pain I feel a phantom pain shoot through my hip Shoot through you hand Up to my navel Again and again I hear it stray Now I hear it say I'll see you sometime We'll make each other rain Change me Change me

There’s a certain agony to waiting, On pain or rust. Cold or death. As if growing pains were so true, I’d believe the feeling to be a-like. I suffer from a particular waiting, A vision, like a vein in my hands. Oh sturdied, enigmatic thing! A voice spoken by all things, A piece of the dark in every corner, Tucked in every envelope, Dusted under your finger nails. It screams, and it whispers. Oh true, insufferable thing! A constant reverberation, An honest noise. Foretold, or premised, felt, known, This pain exists because I already have seen it. Our future is a blind thing Oh pernicious, didactic thing! A bleak detonation, harboring a single sovereign tone, And I am its apostle. The Hierophant’s reflection. Tell me, when the earth longs for winter What will its insects do. When there is no longer a cold torpor To let down their wings, To lull and lullaby them into bliss, What will they make of this apocalypse? What of my bald faced hornet, A true wasp doomed by its mongering name. That first winter, When their queens borough and abandon, When there is No safety in old oblivion, what will they become? Like poison, I bite at my limbs I destroy them Devour and adorn it And yet I live like poison Like poison, I bite at my limbs I destroy them Devour and adore it And yet I live like poison Oh Praise this consuming thing A delusion nested in a delusion Prophecy written into itself Ouroboros or autobiography There is no way to recreate the self in No defense from this parasitism To know is to devour To act is to create is to become. And Such leeches are not equal. Might these wasps become me in my sleep Id hope their boogeyman becomes them too. Oh Annihilation, solemn thing. I will become something again Bending light apparatus Show me somethin that matters Hereby or there gone, It all gets Raptured Fermented fruit and wheat pastures An ovipositor or apples Becoming what your after Wanting, craving Raptures I don't see the point in this shit The conceit was banking now its whether or not farmers exist The id, the pain of knowing it becomes what it is Another fable for the abyss The conceit was the parasite/paradise But I cant remember witch parasite it is