ritual

i've thrice gone mad, mad, mad
(though once was just for show).

secretly, it's darling.
i take pictures, even.

i don't believe in quiet lips, polite outsides
i scream and the universe shifts to hold me close

occassion #3:
i transcend in my own puddle of red, of
wine-soaked vomit, tears, nose snot running -
clots on my face, cursing god

my eyes bulge and the red is like blood around me;
i know i have his attention,
like isaac on the mountain
soaked in my humanity - my gore,
a thread i grasp.

we rest together in its paltry consolation.
i get no apologies, but i get it now.
i get the joke.

bathtub baptism tout de suite
wash it away, away, away
time to transcend
again, again, again.

we need you to endure.
we need your eyes and throat
and washed belly.

we need you.

the next day, save the ringing head
and dim memory of muck, trapped in hair,
eyes too fat to open,
i am aware.

all the sense of this world falls together,
a simple thing,
so simple and sad.

i reclaim my mortal coil.
i look at the pictures and shudder