THE CLOSET MYSTIC

did you fall from heaven,

into the sea?

are you that goddess

that quarreling old titans

fatefully gave birth to?

I know not

but you carry her essence

a pearl from

the very same shell

from which she emerged

your origins

are a recollection

of that oldest and ever renewing mystery

what else could be longed for more

and yet more terrifying

elusive,

yet thumping in our chests

that which we’d soon die for

that which we’d continue to live for

the intermixing of pain and pleasure

holding the olive branch of peace

yet also

the beating of the war drum

the only thing I’d fight for

love

the only thing I’d stop fighting for

love

the only thing I’d die for

love

that which keeps me alive

love. love. love. sweet love.

My life blood

and that which may cause it to spill

but,

if it spills,

it would be without regret,

if done,

in the name of love.

for my life blood is hers

to be taken

if she wishes

Embrace the elements

Your feet in the grass

Be free, my sweet child

Go play, and laugh

Simplicity is bliss

nature’s thy bedroom

Give Mother a kiss

let her tuck you in

with blankets of lilies

a pillow of moss

I’ll snuggle in tightly

let the stars

be your bedtime story

to connect you to generations

long before

and long, long after

I’ll tuck a flower behind your ear

as a proclamation

of my deepest

adoration

you deserve adornments

you deserve to flourish

my lovely little rose garden you are

I’ll keep this hallowed grove

our little slice of Eden

free from trampling feet

call to me

at any time, any day

I am there, I am yours

and when you’ve grown

I’ll take thy hand

and we’ll embark

in search of ever greater beauty

let the pastures we come across

be exclamations of love

every scene

a metaphor

for what we have created together

for I love you

I love you

I need to write pretty frankly to anyone who may ever come upon these writings to know that, no matter how dark and fucked up the shit I write here may get, I truly am okay. No matter what. I really do mean that — I see artistic value in the extreme depths of sorrow I am capable of. However, no matter how turbulent the waters are, I feel adept in navigating them. I am a water man, I’m a swimmer, I dive in the ocean regularly and embrace the chaos.

My writing is similar. I embrace my emotional currents similarly. I have no genuine desire to commit suicide, nor to die. I need to make that very, very clear. I truly am okay. I still wake up everyday and do my absolute best. I joke, I laugh, I sing at the top of my lungs, I do things that make me happy. I have genuine and real support from those around me who love me. I experience deep joy, gratitude, wonder, and love, still, on a daily basis.

Things aren’t always easy, nor are they always completely calm. They rarely are. However, no matter the storm I am weathering, I still identify with that still center — the eye of the storm, the Atman, Polaris.

Truly, even if I’m not okay, I’m always okay.

the laws of the universe hold true

what a fool I was for thinking I could escape the universal gavel

what goes up

must come down

every action has an equal and opposite

reaction

these depths make perfect sense

for the heights we soared to were unfathomable

the bliss

cosmic in nature

unending euphoria

had a price

oh,

I’m fucking paying.

I’m taking our love

To the cemetery

Spade in hand

I’m ready to see it buried.

However

I’m trying to remember

Not to bury

My hopes

My happiness

Every shred of sweetness in my life

Nor,

Lastly,

Myself

With it.

Any pain is pleasure when it’s done by you

All sorrow is ecstasy if it’s in your name

Destruction is creation at your hand

So, then,

I yield

To this

Pain

And sorrow

Destroy me

I’d do it gleefully

If dealt by you and you alone

Dark beauty

Is my unique flavor

I cannot adore you

Unless you carry the seed of my destruction

For one cannot bring me life

If they don’t also bear

The power of death

You wield the Plutonic scalpel

I yield to you

My belly

Excavate any organ of your choosing

My heart is yours to harvest

Would you let me

Do the same?

Can we trade hearts?

Let your heart beat in my chest

And mine in yours

For that is how I want to love —

Your death

means my heart

Stops beating

I am yours

In life and in death

Immune to relational cataclysm

I’ve rediscovered the core of my being

Sacred power,

Transneptunian

This ring of Plutonium

Unburdened

Atlas at last relieved

I commune with the beyond

Whispers converted into shouts

The spirits of the deceased

Sit at the table

Offering council

This coincidencia oppositorum

Of the living and the dead

Conjunction and marriage

Of two opposites

Made one

The Lord of the Underworld

Is my brother

Who offers understanding

no mortal can grant

I sit with him

Lips blue

Body like ice

Yet he warms me at the hearth

In the middle of Earth

He opens the gates

Of Elysium

But I’d rather sit at his side

For my heart is loyal

Feed me pomegranate

I’ll remain for an eternity

Thank you

All alchemists must learn that there is no greater transmutative flame than loving forgiveness.

I’ve been told that fear is the heart of love,

But is not love the heart of fear?

what could we truly fear except the loss of that which we love?

this is humanity’s greatest strength and our greatest weakness —

Our downfall and our redemption —

Love.