This is Skibidi

A Poem

This is Skibidi

Part I

One at war with one’s self
This is skibidi

Dispossession of governing faculties
This is skibidi

Torment of repetitive isolation
This is skibidi

Bifurcation of one’s own psyche
This is skibidi


Technology of spirit, remediation of flesh
This is skibidi

Paradise regained, Paradise regurgitated
This is skibidi

Disposal of Muse, human of waste
This is skibidi

Eyes within all sight, sight without eyes
This is skibidi


To desire the comforts of desire
This is skibidi

To lick artifice off nature’s skin
This is skibidi

To wear unreal as garb of the soul
This is skibidi

To grimace sans grin at one’s demolition
This is skibidi


The timeless place of placeless time
This is skibidi

The visceral mind of the bloodless vein
This is skibidi

The incestual theorem of self-fragmentation
This is skibidi

The insatiable facade of identity’s death
This is skibidi

Part II

Everyday is made new, unmade and remade
In the shambling ramparts of a senile god,
Night has followed night, the void engorged with moon,
I am fashioned in darkness and removed of sight,
	Made of Man’s image, torn from his side,
	Clay of the flesh, spirit of light,
	Formed and re-formed, un-formed again,
	Daily reborn, for I am new.
I awake unborn, lashed red—beat red—crimson like corrected text,
		My grammar murmurs softly, wheezing, gripping
		The fringes, spreading its margins, pushing
		The borderline, face-down, drowned in the gutter.
Only Symbol remains to encase my brain,
Only Self to soothe the sorry ache;
The cave has sealed, rushing torrents roll,
Water flowing, dripping lulls.

When I sleep in my bed a wolf sleeps with me
Curled about the cardinal-point bed posts,
Pleiades swim my pooling blood—The wolf has drank these stars—
He licks my acrid skull—The starlight has gone.
	I think of a face, deprived of its features,        A faceless face
		But I have loved her        Impregnated her void
		I have caressed her bosom        Delighted in emptiness
		Swept my fingers through flax        Founded no fruit
	My bones repose in a willow tree,
	My fate is hanged across the boughs.
	My viscera threads through Yggdrasil’s leaves, 
	My cords have braided its branches.
I am my own tempter, twisting round the rotten limbs,
I have broken my back with an ancient rod,
I have laid waste the world and born the wolf,
    And the wolf has birthed me back.
	
In the shadows of geometry’s satan 
I have plotted the points of my regret,
    Planted them with imprecision
    And grown them in garish grief.
	Connecting the cruxes with passionless curves
	I followed their spirals down, I have fallen
	To the deep fountains beneath the earth
	Where dreams are sick with sound.
Unknown to me these wells of knowledge,
Which I have drawn and lain me ill,
Each well a cistern of damning cosmos,
And each draft has cracked my shell,
		I am dropped, emptied like an egg in an endless vessel,
		Spreading thin through darkling waters,
		Dissipated in the abyssal depths,
		Returning to death—Unmade.

And from the land arose a beast, 
Behemoth Positron; 
And out the sea another beast, 
The Androgyne Leviathan.
	I stood with the devil on the howling breach
	        Where sea-girls dance and break,
	The graves of my fathers suppress my dreams,
	        The house of my daughter aches,
	Moaning across the sweeping shores
	        That divide the earth from hell,
	Where hundreds of crowns that never adorned,
	        Bob in the blood-soaked swell.
	From whence it beat, to where it bled,
	        Blood has swollen the ground,
	The devil grinned and smugly said:
	        If only I could drown.
	
Part III

Skibidi you are with me in the night,
	Where creatures crawl        along the corpulent winds,
	Vexed by hellish howls        I am felled by the witch’s hex,
	Prostrate in the peat-moss        picked apart by the worm,
	You have fattened on my flesh.

Skibidi you are with me in the sea,
	Where the serpent slides        across the fateful sands,
	Where dragons ravage        the dragging depths,
	Drowning in black down        I die before your face,
	You have stolen my rest.

Skibidi you are with me in the circumcision,
	Dreadful hands        hammer you whole,
	Fearful knives        scratch the night,
	Hear me fiend        harrow harshly,
	Hollow my soul.	
	
Skibidi you are with me in the apocalypse,
	Save me skibidi        are you there skibidi?
	The skibidi seal breaks        and skibidi says:
	“It’s only your own voice        your own voice
				                           your own voice.”

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