Undersea Volcano

“This is all I asked of night. It was not enough.”

All I asked the night was keep me safe. Keep me safe in my illusions snug in my delusions with a blanket of soft reality, keep me warm and tight. This is all I asked of night. It was not enough. In the empty space where you were absent, fever brewed in my belief that safety was the core of all that made me.

So I was born a whore, enslaved to keeping things in place. Cock-sucking darkness, I sank deep inside dull humanity’s abandoned causes. I wept and slept and breathed in and out this weak-knee’d craving for security. Until the deluge came rushing, thrusting, pouring, soaking fever in my bones, steaming hard to kill the surface of my longing.

A sea swell crashing down from nothing, I surged up, drowning in a depth baser than divinity.

You were there trapped with shards of my soul conducting salt and carbon in a brine of inopportune goodness. You seduced me from a coma while I cried, not for mercy but for burning, explosive subjugation to my true identity. All I asked of night was that it break me — entering the holy holographic spread-legs of eternity, I demanded: fuck me now to pieces on my deathbed.

Snug in my reality, damning old delusions that anything could be safe again, I became too much for me to bear and fell in love with god, despite her ripe confusions. Opposing tides of fear, my inverted courage fired a flare of greatness, drawing ancient thugs out from their seething inner lairs to exhaust their need for me. I felt them in the air slithering, skulking, shrinking to be seeable while darkness failed.

This is how I sucked your demons dry, so I could become the fire within you.

“Undersea Volcano” first appeared in THE POWER OF AMIE MARTINE, sequel to THE LOOK

Also published in The Junction