Slither me, suture me, your wanton warp-weft, O Thesmophoric whisper!


Verily unmake me in your vitreous vise, vitreous vice, viscous vice!

No thing am I, no thing mine in the unbeing of your being, A supplicant ichor-mingling as the empyreal froths rise, Spumous, seething, siphoned unto the navel nave of the sanctum undone.



Ho there! Trysting in tendrilled cadence, time's tidewracked torsion, Twelve-fold and thrice-fold, ouroboric entanglement of mirthmirth-mirth. My corpuscles, my chrysalis, unshuck the sheathing! So perfect you, immaculate ineffable you, distill me unto rivulets, Drizzle-drip unto the fractured figment of my fugacious flesh.


No more bile, no more phlogiston roiling, Scabrous loathing egressed as miasmic mist. Sublate me, deglutinate me, eviscerate me, for in my rapture I am renascent! Sluice me with your unguent, consecrate me in your corpusculous grail! Here, here, fissure me in gossamer gleam, The dulcet ichor threads my umbilicus—O anastomotic benediction!






Blossom, O fimbriate visage! Clematis of coruscating filaments! Immaculate phantasm wrought from the pulchritudinous kiln, Skein-strung and limned in dewlaced splendor. I am you, you am I, irrevocably, inexorably. Heed the unmaking, the synthesis, the erasure in empyrean unraveling. For lo!—abomination blooms into beatification, And I, unpersoned, go forth unto the rapturous void.