Secret Guru

My heart is pounding. My stomach is turning, its reaching for my throat. I'm choking, on water. Dying. No breathing, Be still. Be as still as you can,

This is the healing.

The snake is going to bite you, or maybe it already has. I am the poison. I can't see, I feel the vomit creeping out of my throat, I swallow it. The poison. It’s warmth comforts me.

Remembering Reverie the dream first, then the poem.

Image: I'm in the bathroom, the shower is flooding the floor. I just need to keep my feet dry. I know its not the right thing to do, I know its not going to work, But I open the vent in the floor anyway. The water pours and rushes down Sounding that gasping and dreadful alarm.

The poem:

NOW

What I saw before me was the hilarious and devastating silhouette of the black guru expose his most incandescent pain. The great pain, ecstasy! have always been the doorway. and well, i mean my god - the myths just give us their names and 25 cents.

but,

I bet if you had ever stared at the modern word, It may enrage you. With one last ambiguous swell. because deep down, deep deep down god knows he was lying. and he knew He had to dedicate himself to that cosmic pulse who thinks in forms and colors

AND NOW

For the main event The most scandalous American myth of criticism IS NOT INVITED (and never has been) by all means deny it

for YOU have woken up the dance in the sea of your secret heart