Poetry
Tales from the Mojave
Bask in the light
Bask in the light
Bask in the light
Scream, speak, and whisper.
Ecstasy and pleasure, the twin gods of existence.
Bodies writhing in pleasure, minds lost to the cacophonous sounds of the wisdom being revealed in this dark most unholy ritual.
A man becomes painted black and streaked with the red of his own blood.
Meanings of life, nay, only the ungodly lust for pleasure and escape.
Jump in my car and lets go for a drive, you and me.
Come ride the waves of light that cast themselves into our endless thoughts and drown in the depths.
Of your sorrow and self-pity and be reborn stoned and free from the trappings of mortality.
RIDE, RIDE WITH ME.
Ride, ride with me.
Shake and shutter with horror
Girlie, grab my hand for I fear you are lost in this peyote trance, let us glide across the Mojave, for the desert is the birthplace of my soul.
It shall also be my resting place, born of the sand, made to die in the sand, swallowed and battered down and down into the deepest depths of the earth.
Members of the tribe dance and dance, dance until they are only dust and bones and then the earth is still, the night is quiet and everything is dead, the never ending sleep that everyone fears.
Murmurs from the soul.
Now everything as it should be.
The end.
