Holiday Spirits

phase i.
It doesn’t exist.
Just run your head
through the wall and go.
Eat a fucking pear. 
Deal with the cuts
or not after.


paralysis.
impossible. to. say.


phase ii.
It was wrong of me to flirt with it, I’ll admit. I didn’t bring it on, but I grabbed at it to stay. Revelations possible. Imagine being able to grab the wind and shove it into your not quite breathing body—thick and heavy with esoteric knowledge.

This isn’t a tomb to raid, or is it? My body belongs to me sometimes then doesn’t. 


analysis.
Would I do it again?

[Hesitates before responding]

... 
....

[Doesn't respond]


phase iii, preparation.
It is ill advised to go into the world without a flashlight. Sorry *cough* torch, for some. Tin, tin. I could imagine lying under the house pine, her silver skirts brushing my sweet eyelashes. I don't know why she only gets to stay a few weeks. Perhaps no one wants to deal with her decay. Hm. She sings to me. Orbs bounce in the peri-colored lights, and she reminds me of my icy little hands clawing into that Minnesota dirt. How I was meant to be buried long ago, so I thought. Built shapeless igloos around me. Nothing an architect would admire... perhaps a Duchampian. Tinsel was always my favorite. A train explodes into my head.


phase 0.
The first time it happened
in this place
we were together.
You were real
             and so was I. 

Less afraid as alloy.

Could you feel
me too?


bridge of different meanings.
Tiptoe, tiptoe. On or off. Ho ho ho. I'm sat gagged in a sphere. With a sphere. With no clothes. Head pushed forward then yanked back. Oh! Morning Star, he likes my hair. White sheet adorned. I'm to be made something soon. Ungagged and bound in gold. Neck nearly snapping with strain. Mulled wine slowly entering the scene, stage left. Mul le d wi nne lowering istslelf unto me. 

They want to see me bleed. Sheets dripping. Out of air. Want this ornament turned red. Okay. Dig in. 


phase after 0.
This one is for the record. I recall only the release. It was still as a white December in the desert. I can see reality peeling away from my fingertips. Warmth glistens in the pain of such a sight. I am scared. 


searchesspace.
What did you find? 


phase 8.
i'm going to get this right. 
i’m going to get this right.
i’m going to get this right.
i’m going to get this right.
i’m going to get this right. 
i’m going to get this right.
i’m going to get this right.
i’m going to get this right.


anti-lucidity.
Blue to mask the bruise. It's gourmet. Slow going. Firmament. I am so sorry, Eurydice.  


phase iv.
The edge of the chase cuts into my cheek. I’ve been shown the opposite of conjuring the soul without the body now. Parched for something oozing from ubiquity now. These illusions of control press me down in my sleep. 

1. Release the bind.
2. Allow what lives inside.
3. My body as the board.
4. I plead not keep my mind. 


final repetition.
Cotton falls from my mouth as heavy as stones. I see stars like Seraphim. I feel hurt like Thrones. My body as the board. My body as the stones. 

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