OUR TIME IS FIX’D EP
I enter the Pussyhouse, crows circling my head
thick grey mist fill the room as I open the door
it's scraping fantasies and creaking gospels, you see a skull's jaw hinged down
all hope has perished-
I am greeted by your lucid angels - and I am grateful my beloved - but my eyes are black
and my blood seethe hot and I weep behind my laughing death mask
I weep behind my laughing death mask while they introduce me to the Pussydome
I weep behind my laughing death mask where the wild cats snarl and growl (grrr)
I weep behind my laughing death mask with backs arched and hair standing. Their sideways glances are callous, as they moist their lips they suck you dry.
I am so goddam hard
They curl in snake-like motion, in hordes, like armies of worms. It's a spell …
They introduce me to the bath, where I undress and enter the hot water.
My fingertips touch the eddy and I taste the kitty and they refill my glass.
I hear a foreign tongue, I hear laughter, I hear my heart beat, I hear myself breathe. So uncannily feline, so sweet the touch. They pull me under …
I cycle from dark to new to full and back. I scuttle towards the ubiquitous light of the Pussymouth and see fucking as pure callisthenics. I wrestle Satan all night long, the dark of the moon imbued with renewals, the dark of the unconscious imbued with rebirths. Me hoarding venomous weeds and bones, the moon illuminating my ghostly appearance.
Only the undulating ophidian larvae crowning my head betray signs of life.
https://open.spotify.com/album/7cL62XMMmBJxhWaVzmipDP?si=OIvL8EpCQfuMtjK25Oisiw
William Blake - Our time is fix’d, and all our days are number’d