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Writer's pictureRED

PLUTO IN SCORPIO

Updated: Mar 11




Every time I tap on the surface the thing goes doubling back

In a jab! jab! motion

Then back

To secrete that potent brew

Upon the stinger and retract

To attack anew

But I scratch at the surface

Taunt the scorpion

Burgeon

Through

Attached by the roots

Cracked Earth accouchement

The noumenon of things

Does the Queen of Night shrink from sunlight

And dream between sight

A desert denouement?

To open

Close

And withhold

The secrets of the night

So finger the truth

Caress it till it coos

It’s this over that

Then that over this to

Tie the knot so

Fate becomes a long drawn vein

That drinks deeply from the blood

Of life, taps twice

And thrice

Till it’s full

The chalice does spill out with glee!

Ill-fate mockery of me


Nineteen

Eighty

Three

Marks the year the Cyberspace

Begins

To scatter pieces that reappear

Glowing Ultraviolet

I’m feeling so violent!

Feeling so violated!

Feeling so isolated!

So perforated!

Standing in granulated replication

As they reconfigure me

Abduct me and disfigure me

They’re cutting away at me

Piece by piece

Rearranging me

And deranging me

Till I’m pockmarked

Scar-hard

Edging out the enemy

In Creative Destruction

And every time I scratch at the surface leaves me lit with elation!

Scattered particles recollect to

Spew the angles through

Of that new “you”

How do you do?









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