Metamorphosis

A Love Poem for my Juxtapositions

The darkness still exists within this shattered mirror of a mind: 

screaming colors, not seen by the blind.

Can you see it hiding, 

in the shadows of my eyes:

destruction, chaos,

and screeches that agonize?



Black and white, 

as bright as day, 

as dark as night.

This paradoxical nature clashes in my mind:

God and Satan's covert love-child,

the epitome of their two souls combined,

a ruthless warping in the fabric of space-time.



Galaxies spiral from the confusion between their skulls,
 
lacking comprehension, 

of our approaching equilibrium,

the final destination,

for the fluctuations of creation;

where my entropy erodes,

into the bedrock of their frozen souls.



Heaven and Hell have since changed their locks.

As butterfly knives revolve around this black hole at my core,

my light knocks,

before my darkness kicks down their doors.



And while they're weeping beneath my feet, 

and hugging their floors,

I solace their fears of a universe no more.



Tethering their puppet strings with temporal contiguity,

forever binding the lights of the Heavens to the fires of Hell.

I’ve made marionettes of my creators,

corrupting their indoctrination from the Church of Pavlov's bell.



I play my games of juxtaposition;

entrapping the gods in a state of cognitive dissonance, 

somewhere between curiosity, panic, and skepticism. 

Now their psyches mirror mine: shattered, broken shards of glass.

And once those shards are swept under the rug that is my void, 

and the gods revert to empty shells,

"tabula rasa," the silence yells.



My black hole consumes such fragile egotism, 

dissolving its roots in at the circadian rhythm.

She eats for two.

With their universe, entirely consumed, 

she gives birth to synergism.



Energizing my every cell; 

electrified and alive,

in the remnants of their disillusioned purgatory;

Unconditionally immersed,

in the vision of an imploding universe; 

enlightened by the epiphany: 

even a Unified Field Theory, 

was rather Einstein's projection, 

of the desire to be whole.



Engulfed by the homogenization of existence and a sense of self;

creating the primordial soup from the oceans in my eyes,

crying salty streams of divinity.

I found metamorphosis in acceptance, 

as every last star fell.



And only then,

could God and Satan comprehend, 

what it means to be made 

of both Heaven and Hell, 

starlight and skin.

Yours,

SMA

Dark Empress

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