Fallen

The Fallen God stood atop the peak, the imperial sun above His
broken diadem, above His shattered godhead, searing His wingless back.
A great lance in His hand, a brand of fire and apostasy, a terrible thing.
With a movement of blinding light and imperceptible speed, He raised
His weapon and thrust down the spear, down into the mountain upon
which He domineered, down into the Earth, through rock and crust,
through spirit and mind, piercing the veil between god and man and
matter. What wailing arose, reaching into the world, beyond the seas and
the lands. A cry first heard before sound was sound, when time was young.
The God awoke the Old Things, dispersed the lies and dogma.
What reigned before would reign no more. It would no longer be fear
that would be the principle directive, the false law compelling men to
lash themselves to the book or the cloth or the martyr.

M. M.

11 p.m.

You are a creature of delirious fever.
I fantasize about what your skin must feel like.
How you are, in your most natural of states.
I would map every groove and curvature.
And every hidden place of you.
A cartographer lost in a new world.

How I dream of you.
Always you are there, in the darkness.
A phantasm never laying to rest.
Flitting from thought to shadow, shadow to thought.
Oh, you are the wild thing in my mind.
The ravenous thing.
The sinful thing in me.

M. M.

"Come to rest"

Come to rest, the surge had ceased
A tempest of unspoken hurt
Once wild, now still
Inside, a world had been built
Edifices of glass and light
An Eden in a forest of darkness
Harried by onslaught after onslaught
Kilometer-high waves had come once and again
But now the sky expanded, azure and clear
The sounds of the world sung themselves
Softly now – a breeze, a whisper
And at least sleep, a sweet slumber
And stillness, deep, there in the world

M. M.

"Sleep"

I slept so deeply. More deeply than I had in months, in an eternity. But it was a deep slumber that belied the terror that lay in waiting. The dream was a pseudo-memory filled with falsehood and truth, a fantasy mixed with pleasures and nightmares of a future past or a future to come or a future never to be realized. But no worse a thing was the role I played with no choice: that of omniscient spectator. I think now that gods, all-knowing and omnipresent, are beings to be pitied, for they bear the weight of not only what is and what was, but of what will be—and the variegated colors of chaos of known-unknowns. The sleep and the dream that I endured, helplessly, though deep and uninterrupted (unlike in nigh on all previous instances), was a manifestation of all that I feared but knew to be truth. All that I knew was just waiting to come, one fateful day in the waking world.

M. M.

Examining your beliefs

With some careful consideration one may come to realize that any philosophy—be it political, moral or metaphysical—originates, is accepted or is practiced through the vehicle of the individual. So, it is by the token of any person's desire for autonomy and self-direction that such genesis, assimilation or espousal of particular philosophies must have at its heart a responsibility of ownership held and accounted for by the individual. In other words, one must take it upon oneself to rationalize and fully consider the tenets of one's beliefs and their consequent imperatives. It is not enough to take things for granted; it falls short to just take oneself at one's own word. Rather, I would say it is an obligation to examine, and update where necessary, the nature of what one believes, especially in the case where one actively seeks for others to share the same beliefs. This I would argue is salubrious as, from time to time, a people, composed of individuals, must assess the "health" of their values. The state of the world turns on a dime and it is not rational to believe that one need not turn along or keep up with it.

The Wonder Physical

It is the light that unveils the soul
Dispelling darkness of the unknown

Elevating worlds of the quantum
That whirl in magic and momentum

M. M.

I am fallen in you

I am fallen in you
Like a wave that weeps the shore
A sun that runs itself in
The contours of your face
are a future eternal in distant past
And your eyes rise something blind in me
You lightning away the dark
Darken that silent background noise
My physics are all turned I suppose
With day of light wavering from night to night
Energy running young and unshelled in me
And everything that you are
I am fallen in

M.M.

"The space between atoms"

The space between atoms. The interval between thoughts. The rapture of orgasm. The piercing of a knife. The lifting of a melody. The stealing away of innocence. The godhead of grace. The godhead of sin. The power of a lie. The cataclysm of truth. The kinetics of a fist. The hunger of violence. The satiation of knowledge. The ecstasy of beauty. The void of war. The purity of unlight. The evisceration of love. The evisceration of love. The evisceration of love.

M. M.

"It's those melodies"

It's those melodies, that music with the otherworld cadences,
the lyrical sounds that take you to that other place: that place
in your head, in your heart,  where all your true desires and feelings
are hid away, kept away from everyone else. It's those songs that
take you there, that divest you from the here-real and take you to the
real-real. There, where you are true and solid and physical and gossamer.
From one note flowing to the other, all ephemeral and yet all eternal.

M. M.

Memorandum

I felt like there was something waiting to happen—something waiting for me. The chaos inside my mind had come to a head. And the restlessness had burrowed deep into my fibers, the full extension of my being. A vibration of atoms, a tremendous vibration of my atoms. Half asleep or half between death and life, everything once a construct began to fall away. Just motions in time: these thoughts I knew to be cataclysm. I was in a moment in time, the only moment in time that mattered. And one step from falling into the pool of the sun.

M. M.