Eleusisian Mysteries

I sat by a fire incarcerated by the flames boundaries

Over-thinking, as I always do-

Drinking myself into being Kessey’s cell mate

In a Cuckoo’s Nest for the night,

King Cronus chewing stone into rubble

And gathering his shattered teeth from the dirt,

A Dostoyevsky scarecrow hanging from a sordid attic ceiling,

Crashing into a pile of splinters and the memory of bone,

Sullied and blown into a valley of death like shredded novels-

 

To be a ragged myth is to breathe and be

When you realize you didn’t need to poison your

Penny royal tea because it doesn’t work anyhow,

And that Stella Maris you exiled from your dreams

Years since the last time you said you’d never

Fall in love again, crashes you into that Ithacan shore

That you did your best to navigate away from.

 

Eliot was wrong-

Every month is the cruelest month

While memory and desire breed in this dead land,

So I vilify my mind and my liver every night

For raping my iron queen into a queen of the dead-

But what’s done is done so I stay

Because she asks me to.

Because I do love her.

 

And we could still partake in the mysteries of Eleusis

With the right Kiste, with the right medicine,

But now, more than ever, I am afraid of Winter-

The isolation and self destruction fueling the adventures

Of a soul gone further than it can return,

Than it should return-

 

There is no potion chaste enough

To purify the poison that’s seeped

“An ear of corn in silence reaped”