Do Not Listen, Part Iii

(The final part of my serial "Do Not Listen" poem. I had written this months ago, but hadn't felt confident about posting it--until now and with a few edits.) ___ Do Not Glisten, Child! of my early past. Do you still desire to shake this Hand of the Age so black in depth and red from nightshade? Rather I would buy you a milkshake from a Rocket's, and dip for but a short time in our unified happiness. To face or not to face the sun indifferent as the Boatman? When she's isles, the secret plane of reality is that negative abyss, et al.. Destroy all the clocks and time does not fall, Saturn's mind is a wherewithal, the seductive lilting Southern drawl loots itself a mighty hall…and they act surprised. So very surprised to see their blue as red on the linoleum floor. Oh? Had you not predicted thusly, when you two strode arm-in-arm along the thoroughfare, with that stupid smile embracing the air? And what hear you there? Indeed. The mermaid's melody, the siren's sonata all starving for accompaniment: the percussive heartbeat of hope: Seven kingdoms and a last fraying rope. A last fraying smile. Ha ha ha! Why do I laugh? You know full well, but since you've asked! Black Stereo, black clothes--black month of June! Black Yin completely black! Rain thine essences down upon this lowly serf, show me the footage of a black cat with a caramel nose, soul of heaven, pressing lovingly into my chest, kneading, purring and licking my rose cheeks blooming above dead Western Gilgamesh, then Garuda me as you open your mouth to dream 'n' out ‘n’ out ‘n’ out dives soundlessly... The Unraveling. I cannot wait for quietus debate, barreling down like Do Not Listen. Clog goes the weasel, clogging the years, so silence the seas and clog your arteries with this sweetest dessert: iced love drizzled with liquor, sprinkled with broken vein glass: A Nobody’s Wish to Eat.