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Death & Cosmos – C. C. Parker 

 

 

An overcast sky evaporates before a brooding sunrise.  Yet my mind’s as clear as it’s been.  Black Prism that has thrived in me for centuries, dies.  Temples fade inside a kingdom built with second-sight: visions of conquering . . .

 

As a man I’m weak, sucking-off platitudes from a withered tit.  Laying low drunk in some ramshackle district with the whore who was going to bring me out of retirement.  Wandering into a nearby cemetery, I fuck her good – Last chance to be a man!  Twisting beneath me with the dullness of an animal.  I am reminded of the dutiful Earth.

There’s always been this conflict in me.   While I hold her near.  Scent of pink flesh, throb of forgiveness.  Yet underneath there’s an abyss, twisting inside her stomach’s pit.  Only death to make her realize life’s preciousness.

Breaking her neck my strength returns, rip-free her skull & drink from the neck-hole.  My cock still lingering inside, conduit of pain, memories & strange pleasures.  Drawn to the threshold of her mind, searing-truth reduces nerves to white-hot embers.  Drowning in a swirl of semen-blood, intoxicating moments of childhood.  A courageous spirit crawls toward some form of heaven.

I pull out in disgust & vomit in a distant corner.  There is a breeze coming over the mountains, but I can’t feel it on my skin.  All I experience is a distant communion with nearby galaxies burning around my soul: the raw sensation of immolation, consecration followed by death.

They only see my crawling flesh, but not the thing inside.  I return without remorse into ancient catacombs.  Blood dripping from a ceiling as sickness passes by.  Larval entities blind & groveling. I walk across their soft backs – Children Of Baal. Cultus decomposing.  Feeding on the filth of ages . . .

Beyond death comes a soft-pink glow.  An eye & flower opening, sex of the goddess of my new birth.  If she has her choice she’ll send me away, to grovel in the purple-haunted dark.  Shadows to instruct me there in ways of diabolical transfusions & agonized delirium.

Walking through streets grafted-on, empty-narcotic swoon of my nerve center.  In search of a victim to prolong my search.  Following death’s odor into mephitic tenements.  Laminae pulse in dark holding sway over a séance. Spirits to issue from porous souls, mangled & insane.

All extensions of my mind – What it is to be free!  I look beauty in the eye where solace has miscarried.  Bloody forms twist from the Black Prism.  Fills the sky & burns my eyes, forcing me to act out once more in desperation.  Sick for some time, with savage cravings to eat my insides.  Vacant lust.  My cock cries into my stomach, blood stored there for centuries where I dug my grave; burns around me, sealing it in.  Rupturing destiny with a downward stroke.

How to re-enter the world when there are worlds abound?  Darkness fills the space of resuming dreams.  Weakness fades & I lose my way.  Constantly in need of prolonged sleep, yet having the strength of numbers when I wake – Idle gods to conjure the ferocity of daemons.  Rend apart the flesh of mortals who do not walk alone.  Entire histories flow through their veins.  A sacrifice in blood to the kingly cast steals my sickness in this brooding hour.

I’ve had the power to do this all along, but never enough strength to see it through.  Even though I can tear a man from limb to limb & eat is soul, I struggle with the fact that I’m not human.  Although born from a human family, poisoned by its veins, I’ve risen above its curse to know my true lineage.

I look at them in sorrow, yet they fear what’s incarnate in me: a beast who has traversed oily kingdoms to crucify kings.  Lords over matter which dissolve the moment it touches the earth.  I rise above the landscape to see it for what it is, a tiny seed in the smallest corner of a greater-beast like me.

Time rests & I am eternal.  Buried inside the plasma of living beings.  I go to them in the night & rip their throats out.  Temples living inside the cavernous dark to go on like that for centuries.  Blood of strangers & they are free.  To climb false halos into strangled reservoirs.  If they make it out they’ll find truth, but if not they’re lost forever.  Blind inside the Cathedral, unaware of the construct as it’s formed . . . Pity us who are damned forever!

I know what it’s like to be human.  Enough to imagine I’m one & blindly groping for years . . . Increments of illusion.  I begin to form gods of my own.  In nightmares & dreams where Saturn looms above a Red Sun –

Torn by it’s rings.  Sunset bleeds.  I watch circumspectly the death & re-creation of stars. Violence puts things in perspective.  Reality wilt the moment it is known.  Revealed is the nature of consciousness & power I speak of.  Another sphere of forgiveness where there’s only strength to be gained . . .

Night falls & I’m awake again.  Another day for strange visions.  I go into the kitchen & drink a beer in a swallow.  Stumble to the sink & vomit a torrent of red.  Holding my stomach in.  The rage I feel for being back in this realm & living among the dead.  Complications reflected in a visage of dread.  How to get back there permanently? Save for plasma which lets me see, stretched against horizons to lead me back.  I never awaken there!  I can only roam dirty streets in search of a fix that will help me remember a power I once had.

There’s a child outside my door trembling in the rain.  His body is the numb benefactor to his waning spirit.  With vague ideas of ways to survive with no human family to guide him.  They’ve all died & gone their separate ways.  He has learned to do the same.  In his faraway gaze:

A brutal life filled with brutal promises.  I cling to an idea that the earthly plane doesn’t have to be like this.  In a more primitive age we’re alive to suggest formlessness.  Floating to higher states, our flesh separate from the wilds of consciousness.  Supplanting fear with logic.  Giving life to take it.  Drawing all of rage from a pulsing seed within.  Giving this boy courage to rise above loneliness in order to defeat the riot within.  Rage, boy, rage!

Inviting him inside to warm next to the fire.  I smell his skin relax & forget itself.  Bones stretch & bend in his tiny frame, popping like old tinder.

He’s older than he seems.  A child out-of-time.  Forbidden to wield power that is granted to him.  A shell of unreason brims over, delusions to rectify chaos & the ugly truths within.  Restraining beautiful visions . . . Taking him under an arm.  He strokes my cock & sucks my finger.  Blood flows smoothly from the cut there. A glassy look in his eyes, he slips to his knees & bites down on the swollen head.  More blood flows . . . In another life I’d kill him.  Shatter his spine & drink the fluid down.  Giving me a painful-erect cock.  To fuck holes ripped open with my teeth as bilious fragments wash down.  My tongue in search of fresh geysers or gently bleeding dams.  Yes, I would open him up.

Only I do not see this in him.  He’s been a victim too long.  The discipline of martyrs has forced him outside . . . Too much!  I pull his head aside.  His eyes rolled back where my reflection resides.   The same world that taunts me.  In his  tears roiling free.  Gateway of illusions leads to true memory.

A god awakens in time for the Feast Of Tyrants.  Sky breaks & lets loose it’s celestial screaming.  Howls of His mind in even-tempered repetitions.  The same tones that lulled Him aeons ago.  Rippling through spheres connected by  blood-lines, torment of histories & future contusions.

It keeps me alive though I’m dead.  I sacrifice everything to see it for what it is.  In my veins when I feed it consumes me.  Looking up in a veil-less sky with nothing between me, & the voice.  While He lies stretched on a bed of herculean maggots, translating frequencies into words I understand –

Destroy the mask you’re wearing.  Lie naked in the sand.  Feel the course of spirits who prolong death.  Cast off shackles of your demise & let it’s carcass decompose.  Blaze of a sun bleeds out pores as the desert drinks it’s fill.  Storing ghosts in an after-life of dreams.  Death piles-up around you.  Shadows walking proud through nightmare realms.  Watch the Earth vomit it’s guts, spilling seed into bottomless caverns.  What lingers in the dark with only a trace of humanity, a plague of denizens older than time itself . . . I am the First Plasma, & the Last.  I open & close the circle sealing off benign faith.  Storm of casualty & unrelenting suicide where savagery reigns.  They die many times, yet grow more sick.  Most don’t know what’s happening & suffer in vain.  In a community of shadow, Idle Lords with foetid breath rubbing cocks in the dark unable to grasp what they’re aspiring to.  No longer attached to the symbol that is their name.  Sagging flesh & impulses.  Observing no restraint.  Absolute satiety . . .

I follow Him to Innards Of the Earth.  A temple rests among catacombs of a deadly science.  The brightest of a degenerate race forming a semi-circle.  Robes hanging to the ground to soak-up His ooze.  Minds grown heavy with visions of bloody war.  Followers, not unlike me, sacrificed to the Angry Planet.

Out in the darkness there’s a presence beyond, & these foul beasts are my protection.  When mortal  I remember them asleep in graveyards fat on pleasures no mortal has known.  Roaming streets night after night in search of the wound that would function as a door.  I would go to them in my confusion, desperate to  understand the purpose of man.  To burn easily like a moth that gets too close to the flame.  Why must it be . . ?  So much weakness & worry for such a brief tour, eyes opened & closed in an instant.

No truth found at the base of a mountain.  Corpses piled in vast-chasms, aeons-old.  Blindly climbing to absorb knowledge as they go.  A journey through death before the summit.  They stop to rest in elaborate bone structures.  Before the world was alive a second time, but after the storm . . .

Peripheral views to grant me wisdom.  Laying me down in the vulgar soil to fondle my dripping cock.  Old stench . . !  No longer burns my nostrils.

Quivering around me.  Shapes risen out of my unconscious.  Steaming out my pores, a burning evanescence.  Drains me of my life-force.  No longer in exile I abandon it’s temporal claw. Risen to shaking knees & gore soaked feet, wounds leak profuse dreams all around me.  A bacchanal of the cruelest kind.  Some kids from a nearby city ripped apart, but still alive.  I look in their eyes & the mewling sounds that seem to come from them.

What hope exists in a world ashamed of you?  You’ll not die as heroically in your time, but at least you’ll witness some truth before you go.  Back into the eternal flux which takes you down into it’s belly.  A gross-beast with sprawling testicles, & giver of worlds . . . In need of sacrifice before it speaks, bathes in your blood to remember you.  Indifferently.  Your thoughts meandering on the tips of their tongues.  In a language I can understand.  Inhuman . . .

Man has yet to witness the catastrophe of his spirit.  I re-awaken at the tail end of his Last Dark Age.  Symbols burned into my skin.  Nerve quenching fire &  the smoldering ruins of my useless heart.  Replaced by the cold steel of cosmos as they’ve misplaced it.  Memory shrouded by seeds of immortality, flourishes from the worm laden soil.  Plague attached to flesh infused virally, & the plasma which is connected to all things . . . I must face facts.  As an alien haunting ghosts afraid to leave the world.  I slash them free & ruminate.  What’s it like to die & not have to look back?  And as a messenger of light His voice speaks through me.  Chosen to step across divides grown fat on the dreams of men, reducing their wisdom to a bloodied corner.  Nothing lives here anymore.  In a language I understand well, He tells me to move on – The universe is your feeding ground!

 

 

Owner of Dedman Productions, a small production company that focuses on bringing entertainment in both fiction and film.

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