Prophecy Mechanics


Her eyes were black ice you see. She refused to look at the sky where I pointed out the places of entry and exit. She didn’t want to look. The Chemtrails were in her eyes. Those black ice eyes. She knew she would get a face full of it straight away. The awakening and the quicker things that flicked up and down her nerves. Safe as the sky baby. You can feel the earth changing from second to second now cant you? Last week it was the end of the world. Probably next week too. We will yawn as the radiation blows in and nobody will tell us of its danger of course. We don’t want to know, we love fucking and smoking weed, you sit on the windowsill in the sun and we talk about mad Led Zeppelin tunes and how you  fancied Joey from Green Day. But the sun is different too. It’s bigger than I remember and her hair is halo full and flowing and the violet rays sparkle as they tumble through her onto the floor. It’s all too much this prism prison, these delights. But what’s a fucking mountain top if you cant fathom and suffer the depths yard by yard baby?

We ate some soft cheese on toast with the butter running and crumbs stuck to her thigh as she ate. It was stuck in my teeth and I wanted to gag but I smiled through the whole method of course. Screaming though, inside. But it was OK it was always OK. Fucking Prophecy Mechanics. Jesus warned us, in headlines and fools we never meet. Will there ever be an end to the songs and prophecies? Wasted don’t knows and everybody stares at the floor and whistles. Caight up in 1932. Jumped up Fords, hot cars, machine guns and things we have in stores. The Morphine, the tubes and the fucking lubes and we never questioned out own hopes our own fucking despair. It was all a show for bored towns. It was a fucking mmetaphysical act baby. An act of belief. Just deep into it, womb deep, hot gods and voodoo dolls. I lost my teeth. The better than me cracked them. I never ate for weeks and I never knew, we didn’t know where we were supposed to be. God in heaven and the dogs on earth. Hot barrels and hotter women. 

She lay outside in the Siberian cold. It ate through her suit which was ripped at the leg, there was blood there, sticky. It had congealed but the cold, inside the suit. She must have been knocked out, A headache too, splitting. her visor cracked. Head cracked and unsure, nothing but thoughts like birds, trying to catch them. The helmet heavy she nods and touched the cracked plexi glass to the frozen soil, barren and dark, the mosses here, and grass pale as the North, the ice. She crept away and sat, the capsule smashed upon the ice blasted soils and no horizon, but a freezing mist and she was ghost, sucked into the scene and freshened but the thought. She had crashed, all was lost but how? Nobody knew. But she remembered the song now, here in her head, an old rock tune, and sun, and cheese soft fresh, creamy, he looked like screaming. 

Don’t try to fly in the dark, your heart. Let go be a child again, the finding and choices inside baby, you’ve got to try. Put out your black ice eyes and turn them to God, put your face to desire and find the world that is yours, climb baby. We try to die every day and there’s no hope for the lack of hope. You know the prophecy and the unbidden leap. God is close and you are all I have got and need. We try to guide, our lies are not hidden. Our faces are desire, turned holy and the world is the final last minute goal. Climb baby, more gas, more dleicous pain free joy. More desired ends and crescendos unseen, unknown.

Who loves and gives in. Does it matter, stand up straight and be cool. Drop in and taste the what it’s for, the settle down and the funk brother sublime moonbeams that played across her flesh in the night. She whispers. ‘I never loved Joey from Green Day more than you’. and her lips parted and I think she was asleep and I was half gone in the dreamspace. The who wants the hurt carnival. She was asleep because the blood from her cut head was in her eyelashes and the moon and the mist reflected off her visor and she looked like a ghost. Within. Not hearing or seeing but believing. He put the gun down on the hard cold ground. Kissed the visor. Let me out. Let me in. 

Find the guides baby. She will not die. Out of body what you think. I’m not a gambler, I’m a nothing in the scheme of it all. She has blood in her eyes and she thinks she has cut her head, which she has, the helmet microphone split the skin deep, it wasn’t serious baby but I know you thought it was as you couldn’t see and your glove just pointlessly wiped across the visor. There was a man standing in front of you, he was armed. A gun in his hand, dressed strangely old fashioned, a gangster hat upon his head. A moustache, he looked like a mischievous man. Behind him, flashing lines of geometry in vivid purples and cobalt powerful blue, viridian and neon pink. There through the ice mists behind him, the abandoned places we hold in our hearts, this grey pyramid loomed and crept back into vision and gone again, the mist, the thick white ice, the wind that stabbed. Above him unhindered by the weather and her fogged eye the ultimate end. The thing that is to come. The blessed black sun. Shone and is to come and she didn’t want to know the secrets and the shadows in her own heart. She would drown and not swim in the Black Sun, and she would not dip one finger as she closes her eyes and see the burned vision of the justice, close you inner eye, ignore the voice but look in and get loose baby, be the colour, be the stare at the bus station, the hand on the breast and the ignorance of knowledge. Didn’t we sing these songs forever? As we wept. It’s not approval confusion it’s stormy smiles, getting loose. Watching you snort the gear, kill the fear, the killer heels and the taxi back feels, the soft. The care fleshy lechery mechanics, the fucking gears of whore baby. Black Sun revolver, in the sky it turned and she blessed herself with the sign of the cross. 

Our eyes as always mixed like our breath and we drown and never surface, in each other, we witness our love and please. Stand in front roll away and stretch out your legs let the air on your skin. Prove to me your filth, I am but the animal, I am the rider. Drop it all, play dead, put your legs on the dashboard and sit. Call me and take us away. That’s you and that’s all we have to go away, far away baby. We tried to get use to it, the crumbs and the dry drives to passionless ends. We cry I suppose but never sigh. 



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