Reality Absolute

by Megan Auffart

hallowed nothings to repent
and serpent hissings to remember
every morning waking up
lacking loving
lithe and limber
heart as cold as mid-December
trying, desperate, to recall
just why I cannot feel at all

tongue in ear
licking / lacing
leaving traces of ideas
I remember all too well
the way the twisted serpent smelled
like soil, feeling
freshly squeezed,
around my neck
the scales scratched
and brutal realities made their way
inside my pulsing brain, to stay

I can't say if there was ever
any real thing that was sacred
any real thing that was holy
hallowed, hailed as enchanted
Was there ever magic here?
and why do people fear the dark
if nothing monstrous there resides?
(as empty as my own insides)

just snap the crystal rosary
and tear the sacred paintings down
there's nothing there
there's nothing there
there's nothing there
there's nothing there
besides dim memories of a hiss
whispered in a hollow ear
and I never thought I'd miss
the terror of nightmares
ghouls and ghosts
...It's the fear I miss the most.
Because fear signifies belief

Sometimes I think, with relief
that maybe I'll get over this
but then I hear a subtle hiss
that tells me everything I see
is exactly what it is:
There are no secrets left to find
The power of the human mind
is the only mystery
that really has been left intact
Emphasized to indicate
that all reality is exact
There's nothing left to find but fact
Still, today, I try to dream
and remember how it was:
The mummies, wrapped in ancient gauze
hiding just beyond my sight
the werewolf's howl
the vampire's bite
the monsters bumping in the night
I try to dream of something more
than this world, brightly lit
where what you see is what you get
and despite the science shit,
I try and dream of something more

But with the whisper of a snake
I find myself all too awake.