White Rabbit
I wrote this when I died…

I want to breathe,
drown,
sleep,
laugh.

I want to feast

or
starve

or
dangle off
the precipice.

I want to be blinded by sonorous darkness, know nothing but pain and torture.

I want to weep with joy,

cower in fear.

I want to scream - SCREAM! truth,
curse rusted skies.

I want to submerge myself in murky green,

feel its watery chill against my skin.

I want to worship your body,

pin

you to the ground,
fuck you till I hear you
shriek
my name in ecstasy.

I want to breathe you
in.
Want to
sweat,
want you
to
sweat
till great
drops
of
blood
shower
down
our
skin
and
wash

our sins away in a sea of crimson.

I want to feel air -cut off- from my lungs,

feel its burning,
feel tears heat my skin till it bursts
into
flame.

Want to feel my heart s l o w, know what those final seconds are like,
then pull back
from the edge
to
rejoin a warm summer day.

I want to run,

feel the
clouds
embrace
me,

fly through glass, feel its shards

pierce

my body.

I want to crush a beautiful-butterfly without remorse,

wander across hot coals. Or sands.

I want to push a dagger
into my chest,

smell the sweetness of the red rose.

I want to awaken from this dream’s
boundaries,
experience freedom, real

freedom,
not

this
pointless
pretense.

Then I want to wake up, wake up as nothing but pristine ashes


and rise