Pris

 

Tread lightly like dumb seals tumbling near the abyss

And close your eyes and bar your heart if you can.

Somethings you cannot hide no matter how hard you try

Like the aroma of terror and desire, a vexed freewill

Disallows a balanced walk between this and that.

 

The Scylla from out the blue fretted in mirrored scales

Sniffs the pungent scent: perplexed in tentacles,

A maze within herself, forty two heads thinking different things

Simultaneously, but all craving the flesh of shallow men.

Her mountain is the visage of unreal beauty.

 

Pray for me when I walk the planked bridge;

Lonely terror gaping wide to the left

A perpetual peared illusion dancing to the right.

How many mouths? How many eyes?

Can a single island hide in its depths?

 

Drinking from an ancient flask-crash into the rocks-

Disemboweled-disavowed by she that sleeps.

Because when waking she speaks in riddles

Unending feats of toungeless language-

Constraining loops-grinding bones.

 

O Scylla, Don’t bait me more with your parts-

Because your hidden form is not serene-

If evil is pain caused to me, cancer is Nothing!

And you are evil supreme! I’m in love with a devil.

Only fools love.  She swims with wormy fishes.