Matza Di Lourde & Nick Cave & Bad Seeds

 

Dreamlike & metamorphosis

I lightly brushed past 

your taciturn silence, didn't I?

My shoulder against yours,

feeling what seemed to me

repulsion, didn't I?

It was such a real ghost

My touch and smile, present,

of the rest, of your signs,

without alter(c)ations.

Do we have sugar rage?

Black smoke? Gales?

Conarium afetivus

or the (un)foreseen metamorphosis

in my crystal ball?

I know, however, and despite this

that the moon has been doing its best,

  

all naked and new,

because of you, in your initiatory descendant

Lilith in quadrature to my Mercury,

without modesty, without healing,

without omen, polar, arctic,

in a tight spot, in the same house

Sun, Moon, Mercury and Uranus

joining my Lilith and Moon

in the 11th, where I have died

or let myself die,

where I have lost and let myself be lost,

that in both I have contemplated in conjunctions

and that only in mathematics,

less with less gives more!

And love, my love,

without a calculator, without guidelines,

without human sclera,

just like the stock market,

destroyed in ethical and moral values,

I will find myself ungoverned,

like a bull

in the arena, stung and subjugated

to bleed out,

wounded, betrayed, by the horns

without law or owner,

on the wings of a desire

and in the divine will;

it will harden to human credit

and in a ceiling at risk,

a phoenix flying.