a rack of sun to be ice born, the wind swims in sharks and nobody listens when their name is being called. People forget me and scorpions rise in the air unaffected by the blood, dirty blood of the mistaken. I would wear the blood for you, if my reason were love of death and all it brings. For now, instead though, I’ll keep my mask on forgetting it’s you, always you, shark biting the wind. Calling my name into the slamming waves as if I matter at all, just because I’m on top, always riding the lonely blood wind, the wind whispering millions of imaginary names, a few names I want to be mine. My inner face could be you. I think so, so this mess makes sense….it’s violent but it’s the only way. I told you I kick the dogs when they fight, why be so surprised? These human bodies tear
and they leave each other stranded, boned rhapsody hurt like the sun on ice.
Personalities suck. I wish I didn’t have to have one. I wish everyone would just shut up, including me. But we can’t and why? Because personalities suck and can’t suck enough of themselves as such. I don’t mean you. I mean everyone else, including myself. Personalities and the face in the mirror, an interesting and deadly combination. I’m not saying I want some homogenized society, I’m saying I hope we can get over ourselves asap and therefore get TF out of each other’s faces talking and smiling the fake friendly just give me wtf I want and we’re all good ok? And I do it, and it’s just about getting what we want based on the likes of the personality and whether it can seduce or not, either way it’s going to have to do a little bit of sucking at the very least if you catch my wayward drift. But you probably don’t care about what I’m saying. Because you have a personality and so do I and the king is the head on crack and I’m just a prisoner junkie with a peephole into hell wondering, “should I do this?” Suck the other person’s face. I mean, isn’t that what this is?? Yes but of course, however, just like meat eating we clean it up enough so that no one has to get hurt or see how many have died just for your red package of lust, except the face you’re eating to suck i mean. So what’s it all about anyway? Well, it’s about hunger and I can never get enough of you no matter what. So I conjure up your personality to make sure mine matters and I control you with every sex cell I have, then I pretend it’s spiritual when really it’s just manipulation of the snake. Probably some half ass semi black version of desperate domineering tantra and I’m just addicted to the part where you’re on your knees and can’t stop saying my name. My name. What another story that is. I’ve had too many. I’m confused. I can’t remember where we are or who I am and even when I look in the mirror I’m like “what’s up with her?” You know? And then I start preening and dreaming of your face and how to make it mine. I guess then what this is, this personality is about hunting. Hunting other personalities to mount defeat slay conquer devour annihilate vindicate you see? Looking for a name to eat, the sound flaming from you eyes, the silent deep watcher who hides behind nothing but my desire to know the deep light beneath the pain of name. Mostly my name and a little bit of yours too. I do love you and I plan on saying it like I mean it. Personalities, serpent winding suspended whispers listening for who loves me best. Did I just see myself in your smile? I think so, and so now I must consume you and the journey within commences…
Oh no, sorry you thought I meant “spiritual journey” well, I’m not BD and I mean the journey behind the fucking snag of your zigzag zipper, face lock me tight and make me move, my snake is so lonely. Lonely for fire. If I knew who I was I’d say won’t you be mine. And I would mean it as well. However, since I do not. I can only ask might I look for myself inside of you? Personalities intact, might I bite your wind heart and free the swarm of sharks? Might they ride in a fury up your throat and out your eyes, looking for me, all of me, none of me, non existing huge me. Might there just be blood everywhere and so nobody sees anything but that one big red named signed in black. My throat is the one you want, the big swallower with many names, none of which I lay claim to.
No, I want your name. And like the sound of thunder or fish flipping out of the water, I will have it. My personalities suck probably most terribly of all. I’ve got a million snakes hungry and looking for hot names to eat. And it makes sense when everything’s dry. And the lonely winding serpent has no friend but lies. Faces with lies and so shut up. I’ll name you, then I’ll eat you. Then I’ll name me and the show must go on, don’t get mad or bothered or maybe do. The point is, we’re going to make a difference both inside and out. And yes. Snakes scream while they eat other names and nobody said it would be clean. But the word is the word and gods name is on the handle and I’m pulling hard waiting for the chute to open and we’re falling and all I see are throats with names and all I am is a hungry God-force vampire and I will make you live forever with nothing whether you like it or not. Your name is my name. Personalities are only the clothes we wear to hide the real body of stone. Venom forged stone. I want that. I get what I want. Thank you. I love your personality but unfortunately there is no room here for the two of us. And although I want it to be “you” it’s going to be “me” ok? Lights out. Zipper unzipping. Heaven doesn’t count so stop crying.
It’s only me now, the name eraser.
So you get that it’s about nothing and how to get the nothing in and out right? That’s all I wants to say. My name is black light erased only by you. And you aren’t you until then. Until I get inside and spin.
Love, Sharada Devi