I LEARNED TODAY...(and memories of the Time of the Three/3)...

....that people are not human.. WE are more human than YOU will ever aspire to be... I learned that I can smell the blood dripping down my lip , walking at night by the holiday lights and the cedar scent (of that mountain top I found far back in time in my locked memory) from the smoking urban metal and angle hair chimney's... The full moon shining on half the face of a quite watcher from a broken window, a lit clove cigarette blowing with the leaves by my foot as I stomp it out with my toe, looking up , whisper in the wind says, "taste the cloves on his lips? Feel the energy when you grabbed the Tesla coil?... Violet wand; now eaten energy, shattered bulb you greedy bitch....hungry still ? Steal the kiss. Buy them! " Wait, I am walking .Pay attention. You can't pull from both dimensions and memories at once!

I learned that... I hate you for what you represent and what you think YOU are. My lip still bleeding, I drink it down, making it bleed as much as I can in the frozen air with my teeth as I glance at two lovers through a bay window exchanging that , exchanging emotions I refuse to feel, but for cash , MY money to you --and leave your male senses at the door and go out in that sea of darkness. You are needed for nothing but skin, sweat, magic and lust. Maybe for energy, and the hunt, if need be. I know what sex and chocolate , blood and pain are for! I snap back to the cold and my New Rocks crunching alone and silent on the ice, my carbon steel blade rest like a sleeping snake in my hand, it knows me like Death know the dead, open always out of habit and ..the hunt..have you forgotten?

I learned today ... that you are social conformity and fuck you for your judgments...I am almost home .. I see the high rise and my red lit candle, sex magic, in the window ahead. Feelings hit my chest like a Mossberg sending me off to your Boat (can you loan me a coin to pay the ferry man?) I can't breath and choke back tears and memory with a sound like a wounded wolf in the high Rockies howling for its lost mate. I chock it back because I am an Urban dweller now. Damn YOU for that. I feel a chill YOU would never understand or comprehend. Falling against the Evergreen tree, World tree-- please make me feel anything, something, I close my eyes and feel the rough bark of the tree scratch my back as I slide down , ripping my shirt and the blood trickles and pools in the cotton of my Sex Pot Revenge shirt, along my back and down my leg, COMFORT--PAIN.. same difference...finally letting the tears come and I remember,

I remember. Eyes closed and I can still see the clearing of Banyan tress where we watched the ceremony of the Yanamamo , hot muggy jungle night where not many white kids had been and we knew not of YOUR ways but of the PEOPLES ways, too young to know your sting would be a death blow. We touched , explored, learned and traveled with the Vine of the Soul and saw what we knew it was to be in the blood we shared that night, Sacrament. It was sacrosanct, UNPROFANE ... and the brothers found they knew each other so very long ago and loved.

We were love, lovers, made love as one, Shaman told us all three/3, WE: spirit, mind, emotion in one body and we smiled and took the fruit and saw the Gods, so young we were, destiny...we were innocence and hope ...and shame. I remember the loneliness when we came back to YOU and YOU pointed and told us we were sinners and evil; sent us each to different part of the earth, shattered and numb with regret and HATE FOR YOUR WAYS, Civilization YOU called it...

I learned today ...that YOU are a poser and a fraud and YOU all think your solidarity in jokes and mentality of cruel intentions is a boon on your side, a scope in popularity you so crave like junkies for a fix (but the dope man is out of that particular drug my friend) ...and I feel the cold again and stand up, the pain is pleasure and I tighten the straps on my Prada messenger bag just a bit more to FEEL and walk a but further , licking the salty tears like the last supper and wonder why I always take myself back to that!

THAT memory ,that smell, taste...comes to me. Come TO me! I remember later ...the Cicero days of Chy-town and taking pleasure in breaking YOUR bones for the payments forgotten, you running, we laughing at the fear we smell, crave, get off on (you weaklings ) from you.. the hunt again. Knife curved blade still open but just small cuts to teach lessons YOU should have known (and I want to lap at the wounds like a starving creature), Sweat and blood mixing in my hand, between my fingers just the way I like it. I stare and drink it all in, and try to bring back the memories your kind took from MY kind! I can smell the car, gasoline and cotton rags and the smell of burning tires.

Running... I felt nothing as the flames licked at metal and rubber, the hood blows off and the ground shakes a bit and desire to be like YOU again as I am lost fasr from the THREE and the people we loved, just drink what you need in Absinthe and blood...and watch it all fall down. I can no longer sit as silence and eyes of fire are never heard ...and must be.

I can't even really feel the needle as you search for a vein... The belt cuts a bit into my arm as the leather quick zips through the metal holder, cricks and stretchs, and the leather smells of you , so many bite marks on that old belt, and I think, "FINALLY RELEASE???" ...and now I am back and can see again . Memories shaking , sliding away, but the payment I make is higher than yours. It is taboo and costly to mark my soul. Fuck you and your normality of self. Go pay Papa Ghede and Damballah at the making place.

I learned today ...that YOU can never be like me and I don't ever want to be like you with your false faces and empty wallets, your hymns to a dead God of war and his bastard son. I found MY God long before I was born and after that in a jungle in Venezuela , in a frozen tundra and on a mountain in the Sierra Madras in Mexico, in a Kiva with the Dene' and on a veve, making love AS a GOD with a god. I need nothing of your pity or your belief. Your thoughts are even lies to evoke a need to some identity you thought was YOU, your kind! Phantasms!

I learned today ...I should have kept the Vine of the Soul of my beloved Yanomamo and Hedu fallen from the sky, the Mushrooms of the Huichol, the Virarika, the HEALERS, the barking of the Inuit sled dogs as we slept by the fire on the nanurark , **THAT** clearing of Banyan tress, the mingled limbs in the hammock as we curled up with Shaman watching and his smile and stories of our PAST and of what was to be, the art of the Huichol and the Gods of the Weather, Sun, Corn, Earth

...so high I could see and touch the stars in the sacredness of the Marakames chant , their stories and love... acceptance in its purest form like every smack addict that OD'ed at once... all so pure, their sex , their scent, remains and reminds (it's so cold and I'm almost home, if I must call it that) They never knew sex , making love like the gods. They knew instinct..nothing more. YOU. Magic..totem..daemon.., thoughts you saw, words you tasted. Not YOU but WE!

WE left you behind and drank the elixir of the god as you prayed for us. We opened our hearts, our soul(s) and veins. GOD it was good!

.........................REMEMBER dear..cousins, lovers, friends, soul mates, three in one and 15 years of death and pain with YOU and your rules and technocratic shit, Your looks and lies...I told them 15 years 15 years ago a week from today. If words without meaning still ruled when time came round than I would "come home." needle or rope...cards have been played!..................

Am I coming home? I am coming home! My tears are drying as I walk up the stairs , theWallsCrowdMe, Suffocating --- white and smelling of nothing but Urban decadence that is not even decadent in its truest form.. HA...so wait..I am coming soon. I don't need YOUR permission.

I made my vows and peace and I will keep the silence.I learned...forgiveness. What did you learn...Eophan, Mundane..Human?

.....Kia...memories from a childhood