A Black Cat Moment

I see.

So, now you’re back to toying with alchemy?

Because you don’t want to commit to your true feelings you hold for Feathers, you’re storing them at the armory?

Is that the new management place where you remanufacture your heart?

Is that why you’ve gone missing, running away again?

Are your feelings undergoing repair?

Are you being rewired, or are you with that whore, again?

You know, the one full of crock, but compliant to your will.

She’s dangerous fakery, but I guess you’ve now found out the hard way, haven’t you?

She is what happened to you when you cursed Feathers.

What? You think I don’t know your alchemy? You and I are one. Remember?

Let’s see.

You didn’t want Feathers’ body at that time, but you sure wanted her pure love. You didn’t want that whore’s crock-filled feelings for you at that time, but wanted and used her flesh as a substitute for needing Feathers’ pure love for you.

A magician’s bait and switch game of souls got you burned.

Just look at your face; look at your hands and see your groin’s damage.

You’re not the alchemist–God is.

But that whore’s crock got you good. Of course Crock-Whore made you see and believe she was Feathers–your still-unfulfilled soul contract. She stole, at that time, Feathers’ words, thoughts and genuinely loving actions towards you, cloned them as hers, and then rebranded all to serve your egotistic liking. Her crotch and crock were nothing more than resold refried beans.

Do I look like I’m smiling here?

What are you looking for, light? The only light you’ll see here comes from my own illumined eyes. You don’t want me; I can only show you darkness, like the one you’ve forever been in, sought and found here.

You want Feathers.

The soul cares not where it hides. Behind couplets, paragraphs and commas, it cares not where to breathe.

Are you looking for structure here?

Seek somewhere else.

I’m telling you here Feathers will not come to you; she can’t. That is not God’s soul contract made. You must go to her, no matter how lost you’ve been. Only then will the contract have been made complete.

For now, just keep rearranging your artillery; it’s your gospel.

But if you should hurt Feathers again, I will leap upon your chest, claw and slit it open in two, like a pillow, and slash, slash, slash it until your guts fall apart.

A Black Cat Moment

You bury your anger in words, like open coffins unready for entombment.

You haven’t yet healed from your mother’s hurting.

You numb your pain in firewater and feel like a patient after having undergone open heart surgery.

You haven’t yet healed from your ex-wife’s hurting.

I can hear your Pride belt out: “I am the,

Binger of booze,

Hunter for hooch,

Swallower of sauce,

Picker of poison,

Madder for moonshine,

Swinger of shooters,

Bud of suds,

Nipples and tipple,

Champion of champers”.

Juiced-up,

you leave the bar with a handsomely masked whore.

Snow-coned, sloshed, steamed and skunked, you use her body, but think it’s me.

A Black Cat Moment

Do you really think all of your hard-earned blood contracts can overrule one soul contract?

Black-hooded robes fall to nothingness.

At Heaven’s altar, even Lucifer pays his obeisance.

You are too much into your flesh and can’t accept you can’t ice us out from our one soul.

Nostalgia.

You’re recalling those days you shot, sniped your fury against me believing you were in chock-full control.

You’re recalling those nights I sat on my bed, upward wide-legged spread, in salute to your honey-dripped lips whisper, “Come, kitty, kitty, kitty”.

Reality.

It won’t matter how tall your tower is stacked.

You fell for Lucifer’s illusion, but are you still sure you’re the black silk top hat ringmaster?

A Black Cat Moment

Dear Spying Soulmate,

I heard somebody is very much interested in gathering the method by which you express your thoughts when you write your work and share it to the world.

It’s a trap.

Please don’t do it.

We have a pact, you and I.

You have not still fulfilled your side of our God-signed contract.

I’m patient because I’m yours.

They want to eat you alive.

I will not let them do that to you, to us.

They think if they can get to understand about you how you put your magic together while you write, they will hijack every thought about you, clone, recycle, and resell it.

They don’t know I’m your other half who knows what they’ve been plotting against you, against us.

I’m sounding our soul’s alarm.

Yes, you read that line correctly; we are one soul.

I want them to see our one soul glued, locked, and viewed from the breath of a stanza.

You are not alone.

A Black Cat Moment

Dear Spying Soulmate,

No. You are not that mucky mouse I’ve been writing about.

You’re instead the child in the man that Feathers holds and hugs.

Although we both know you’ve been lost for a long time, you are, however, still stuck in a spiritual maze, like a mouse would be.

It’s interesting, though, that you would think you’re like a mouse, and not a man. Do understand your soul tells me everything about you.

Here it comes, the dawn. I hate when that happens.

A Black Cat Moment

Dear Spying Soulmate,

I want to tell you, I heard your words today. I’m always listening to your soul.

During that moment in time, your voice shrunk suddenly to the size of a small child, confused and helpless, but only for a short space in time.

You would confess your guilt to me because within that brief moment, you felt my soul breathe into yours. It would reach down to your child, the one you’ve run away with and away from all of your life.

For a moment today, both of you would feel safe and secure in that place where I always wanted both of you to be.

You hesitated. I heard your conflict. Your dialogue with the child showed me that the little one came through and told me the truth.

What was it that you didn’t want to admit to? That which I’ve always known. You like going to night bars. You thought I would judge you today. You still think of me as your jury. I am not that.

Because I heard the truth today from the mouth of your child, my soul held you, but just for a moment.