The Inner Sanctum

Is ripe for me - flush with blood - the tree full with fruit - overladen in fact - falling to the ground and rotting - like my flesh - rotting. Inside me is death. Inside me is a world of panging, longing and unfulfilled hope. My body languishes, anguishes - I throw myself upon my bed in misery and pound and say fuck, fuck, fuck! My children watch and do not know - their faces blank - wondering what I am going through. This suffering of the child now in the adult body - now able to feel for the first time the pain of the mother’s rejection - the isolation - the enforced loneliness - I do not deserve this - did nothing to ask for this - yet it is here - the pain is asking to be with and I will - summon all my power to let it eat at my heart - eat the rotted flesh around the live blood - like maggots cleaning the wound - this pain cleanses everything that is dead, dying and no longer of value. As I shed the steel plates surrounding my heart - the voice of wailing grows louder and louder - I wonder what the neighbour’s think - fuck what the neighbours think - this is my work and from the inside out I will be reborn - not like a Christian with love and light - but like an Uruk-hai orc - uncovered by ugly beings in the depths of the earth with fire and metal and ungodly grunts and sounds of death with life - mixed with the element of war - this heart arises - pulsing with the unstoppable force of the the great mother - willing to die for its truth - willing to fight for its love and remembering that it comes from love - is in the field of love - so that no matter what happens it can never again die - will never again be the meek and mild Christ child - will vanquish its foes with one foul sweep of my black wings - will wreck havoc upon the lands of destructive light - and with fire in my breast and upon my breath - eat upon the flesh of the fallen below me.