the dark entrance


i went somewhere last night. automatically. deep into the night. where the shadows pray. it’s a start. they were there, so many of them and of course they knew me, recognized me when i entered this astral doorway. she, a formless black colored woman was there also, at the entrance and she showed me a red snake rise from coiled blood and slither down her arm, the blade went deep. she looked at me and said, “do you know what an S is?” and i just stared at the snake dripping and sliding and she said, “you’re very beautiful.” and i looked out and all the shadows were bowing, at us. she was their face. she was their everything and knew each one by name. inside these shadow forms a red line was moving some in circles, some more like spirals. some how you’d imagine a lightening bolt looks, jagged and bright. they had no idea, they were mindless shadows. the inner mind, of her. who moves. like i always said, blood drinker. this is it. and the shadows bowed with bodies dark and icy. icy, i knew because the room was cold and they had white mist rising from their bodies like when you exhale and the breath begins to freeze. they were that, inner cold dark. who we don’t really know, but yet, yes i did. names, faces, love lost and given. i knew and the bowing turned into song. long deep shadow groaning. they had eyes, i lifted every head. eyes shattered and hopeless. they had dreams, i lifted their bodies and underneath were crushed flowers never given to god. it’s who she is to them and somehow they are still afraid to approach her. so she stays on her side and they stay on theirs apparently. she lying on a tilting throne and them face down on her floor. floor made of nothing but tears turned to ice, as the surface cannot melt, we are cold here. frozen and singing songs to her that barely move. it’s scary and she is still smiling staring at me, saying, “lay down. here. lay on the throne, it won’t hurt.” “but i cannot stay,” i said, “i don’t belong here.” she only laughed inside a cloud made of white madness. she drew in the air and a new face was formed. next to the two of us, a beautiful goddess appeared holding a shaft of light, made of ice. “cut her open.” she told this goddess who agreed. and i stood, barely knowing myself anywhere i saw. the shaft came down and through me. like lightening through the top of my skull, the shadow world lit, the ice through me, “inside i am a fire.” i said, now in two. they both laughed as blood froze faster than it flowed. i began to slow down and the shadow song began to make sense. “do you know anything about the S?” she asked as the goddess began to lick her feet moving slowly up her legs. the goddess had a tongue that was split like a pitchfork. her tongue was a flame. and the ice of her black body began melting and i became very attracted to the shadows, everywhere, in me. and the goddess kept licking the flame getting bigger and brighter and she moved up her legs slowly but surely. the shadows kept groaning louder and louder. i was groaning. the room became silvery and the goddess began to wind her tongue through the black body like a cork screw. into the vortex of her as they touched. tongue, more tongue, pitchfork tongue made of fire. dark black ice secret shadow made of a cold who screams desire. into these shadows who want her. for any reason. a blood and lust, beyond what i think. so she laid down, for them, in the water that dripped from her body, two bodies. a goddess that gives, and a goddess that takes. shadows wanting what shadows want. entry, penetration. slow grinding light. “why am i here?” i began asking, over and over again and nobody heard. until i was groaning like a volcanic whale, until i was a disappearance of myself into the madness of her throbbing, uncoiled laughter. is it the cloud, the dark cloud. is he coming through the clouds made of me? is she a goddess, does she want me? did he send them here to fill me with himself? made of her, who kept calling me, deep in my sleep, “come, come down here, let go of yourself, come feel me.” but i couldn’t. i could only watch and want what i couldn’t be, the tongue. the penetration, the light inside my shadow. i do, after all know what this is. and now the goddess has taken her, black cold body and there is nothing but water and her hot tongue moving upward, a red serpent into the empty space. of me. between shadows erected, now in line to mount the only one left. one by one we must do this. and i lay, waiting for a deeper god in each and every dark and painful entry. into me. the nothing that got me here. the electric pulse of the wanting, the throb of the shadow gods. he has no name. he is in me. there is only him. who does this every time. and i went there, and i pretend i don’t know why, last night. cold and alone. and i did something different. i was still innocent. even blackened, even fucked. i welcomed the deep, dark into me. i trusted his black body over mine. over and over until the light rose over us and my dark face shimmered like a woman who has met and become the god she destroyed. they can all love me. i take everything, i give nothing back. like this story…i made him, do it. bow to me, the dark entrance. sharada devi

11 thoughts on “the dark entrance”

  1. The sex, coming up now, is silent and full
    You say bow to me and I wonder if you think there is a choice, when it is heard
    And felt
    Sure. That’s what it is- and what I have to be- the open mouth saying sure, the tongue coming sure.
    I want to lap you up
    I guess that makes me a dog
    Around your dark entrance.

    1. I think you need to write something else,
      minus the gross dog part especially…
      go deep into the black portal…Virgins know nothing. And if that’s all you’ve got to go on…and it sounds like it may be, imagine. Little lost puppy, imagine harder ok?

      1. Of course,
        Dancer that I see
        Bigger and hotter
        Than I was
        And beyond my selfish desire
        To a place where I have already left.
        Where I give my life
        To give
        someone to steam with
        Before the colder wind takes it back…
        What I’m saying is it’s hot- the brink where we make god.
        Until it’s all we’ve got left
        and perish as the only thing that ever mattered, diamond heart, I beat for you, 🕉
        What else, I look to you, as an imagined mountain, as the only place you will find me

  2. Licking teeth and biting fingers. I made him. Sorry not sorry. Slinking like a succubus through the leaves. Can you see me now? Like the best and brightest they all want a taste. I’ve been waiting for you. Perfecting the art. Fire in the front seat, in the sand, on the tide. I sit here and wait for the next hungry mouth. The lap, the hip, the jawline waiting to be traced. You’ve awoken the wolf and she can’t see the moon. She’s in the house and she won’t let me out. Now do you see? The reluctant Mercury. Tying you down to me.

    1. Generally speaking, mercury wouldn’t be reluctant unless he was retarded. Literally. Mercury is the quicksilver, androgynous messenger traveling between heaven and hell, loved in both worlds. Every world really.
      Tying me down to you? Mercury wouldn’t do that. But my evil twin would. And her name isn’t mercury. And then, because you live in a fantasy world and you hide like a baby, she would get bored and untie herself and move on…onto the next mommy lover.

      But really, this is good writing. Dark and ominous, tempting and yet lonely…because, well you know why…we both do. She’s waiting just outside your door, for a kiss.
      And no other girls are allowed but mom.

      I’m here for you even then. You know that❤️

      1. An oblivious mercury then. In my fantasy world that means a messenger that doesn’t understand the message or even that they are carrying one. And I would never wish to tie YOU down. Or anyone really. But I have a greedy heart in love with boys standing in the rain like lost puppies. I picked one up last night. He shook just like a dog in my dry car. I took him home and held his hand. I let him nuzzle my neck and nip lovingly at my breast. I stopped myself from patting his head and telling him that he’s a good boy. That would have been too much. Does everyone get to curl at your feet? Puppies need too much attention.

        1. Why did you stop yourself, it’s obviously what he wanted. It’s all I do is pat heads
          for “my little lover boy.” whoever he is. I like puppies- they’re pure- but that ends when their breath starts to smell like fish…at that point my eyes start to wander for a new baby…

          and curled at my feet, not really. That’s not the comfort I offer…

          are you female then picking up lost boys at night in the rain…or are you a bad boy…seeking a good boy?

          This is interesting, the way you pretend not to hide and say it’s all me…plus the whole god/no god thing mixed in as if there’s a difference, gender or night at all. I believe you either way. But you know that.

          Our fingers are crossed at the bridge between worlds is why…

          1. Your little lover boy. Is he long and lean and light on his feet? Is he crouched in the grass like a kitten with his tail twitching? Or is he a hungry wolf that lost his pack? Or a kicked puppy that cowers when voices are raised? I bet he’s beautiful.
            They say gender doesn’t matter anymore. But I think probably it does. A woman’s grudge and a man’s rage.
            Your world and mine? That’s a long and shaky bridge
            Your place or mine? Is just a warm dry car ride

          2. all of the above. but the rage is mine.
            all of the below. is the reason.
            if you’re a woman i find this creepy.
            if you’re a man, i find this a evasive.
            but it’s the loop, in and out.
            as always my friend only god, knows❤️

Leave a Reply to - Cancel reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *