Migraine

Mig's rained down fire from Heaven; Hell turned out accommodating and unleashed its fury; migrating into cold fusion state I auspices my acknowledgments, envisioning a date with a harpy dressed like a Gypsy queen and smelling of Mojito's and bubblegum. My ear-drums played a tune I last heard in Hotel California, what brought back memories I soon forgot to despair...

This succubus was quite entertaining, taming my under-tale thoughts of lonely holiness into hardened insatiable lust and want to dominate and own. On my own I was one with the pain; thrilled about my intolerable weakness and amusing ignorance. Didn't know which truth or dare should I first pay my homage, with a little of attention. Into the abyss was a great fall making me reach...

It felt like glimpsing cherry petals turn to red maple leaves, while the spring was still sprouting. And yet is was winter and it came summer – all consecutively at the same time and meaning… I was the fire in Heaven and I was the fury in Hell; I was the Earth raped and scoured; I was the water evaporating in the heat, like good people shutting up and leaving in terror.

The harpy was 14 and I was not yet born – stuck in her womb like Jesus for 3 days; The dismay was killing me senseless. I didn't knot where to swear the gears what? Triggered by happy thoughts what went sour, for too much lemon in my Earl Gray. And the limonchello had worn out and turned to vinegar for too much air and lack of cellars.

Being too open-minded can't be that good as I first meditated, when opening up to the solution. The dimsday was dooming the lights as I opened my eyes. Backward hind-sights there forwarded to the letter and I had to see the feather what wrote it spat out the bird who wore it… I was whoring some more til the core of truth was released from the bonds of tradition.

Transitioning from frog-mouthed princes who kissed trolls who turned to Ghouls and Banshees; Bakaraa was played at the Back-gammon table while the dogs where whistling on almond trees. The pigs there riding Red Riding Hood who was dressed like Hob-Goblin from Spiderman; I didn't know I would fam it... All was too much or too little or too nothing to mention!

Controlling my breathe, I surmised that I was not asleep. It rained knives and desperate housewives married to 2 and a half men re-edited to Letterman show format. I had to vomit but was out of liquid. The ink was also emptied in my pot and I had to fold my hand. Can't beat nothing with a full house – was too nice of a guy for that. Besides, the river changed everything so I wouldn't have liked the bad beat!

I was sweating bullets and spouting nonsense – in the end it made a lot of sense, I didn't see while the words there still worn on my lips. I felt torn apart and put together, like Picasso's late night dream. She still seemed to wear me like a necklace and I lost my count on the third Ave Maria. Te Deum and Gloria there not mentioned, stationed in between recession and sanctification...

Alas the maddened glee! It gave up on me and I went to my true north abandoning south and the west! The east was hospitable enough to cover my expanses so I had a little chat with Kitsune Hime. We buried our hearts in Aokigahara and our souls in Nagasaki remenescing the dead brothers and sisters, who never went home. My knees there wounded at Tšernobõl and my throat was slit at Salem.

I was friends with the dirt, while Solsenitsõn was eating it and Tolstoi was ranting like Nebuchadnezzar. The hunger had left my guts and I was filled, navel-gazing the sun how it was still shining inside earth; while molten iron had filled the universe and taken its place. I still befriended the dirt and was empty – invisible in my ongoing journey; invincible in my lust to continue the vision. And my head ache!