Black Milk Of Love © Surazeus 2023 11 23 After I dig my grave in the blue sky I drink black milk of love to understand sweet horror seething from the underworld so I brush long hair of my dreaming brain to dance with you around the apple tree where my father hangs on the serpent wing. When I drop substance for shadow of truth in order to deceive phantom of hope I contemplate weird riddle of the heart that sprouts up from conundrum of desire so with mute troubled honesty of faith I measure nothing of my ancient fear. Through prosperous struggle to defend my dream I covet golden egg my demon lays so on fear-naked beach of lust I hold huge burning book open in eager hands to comprehend state rules I should express that guide me when I rule the underworld. Star letters of blind fairies strict as flames embody terrible flowers of love in stubborn deployment of intense games that carve the heart of darkness wicked ways every time the gold-crowned tyrant arrives on wingless horse to claim the death of time. To roll back riddle for the end of days I calculate all the ways I could die till the pretty princess with long flowing hair distracts me with her sparkling star-black eyes to build warm haven castle on the hill where she tends garden of her singing skulls. I stand in living room of our new home to stare at shadows of strangers that glow at speed of sound which cracks the clock of fear though I remember soaring among ghosts on silent scream of self-reflecting lore perplexed by lack of Heaven above clouds. Astonished by flaming wings dreamers wear, I glide my plane on silent wings of wonder far from high castle of my social power while searching for angels strumming gold harps who wave to me as I glide past at dawn till I perceive the real world as it is. As I return to spinning Earth I know I realize mankind stuck on solid ground invented Heaven to reflect our hearts as image of this city we designed to guard our secrets from the haughty god who only appears in mirrors we make.
Surazeus Astarius Συράζευς Αστάριος. Cartographer. Epic Poet. Hermead epic poem about Philosophers 126,680 lines of blank verse. http://tinyurl.com/AstarianScriptures
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