21st
Century Forest Titan
Buried
alive under the old forest
My
limbs are tendrils curled round roots and stone
While
above the pagans make their naked fest
I
am the spirit of being alone.
Let
fly horns bought at romantic supplies
The
Celtic people dance round their fire
Nipples
like gargoyles for the night flies
Will
shun the existential void's mire
I
hear the pumping of their feet as round
They
leap and caper like faeries or dogs
I
feel the fucking in my deepest sounds
And
hear the oaths made in secluded bogs
I can taste the ecstasy in your piss
Rolling
down my furrows into my streams
I
am too old for these beings yet miss
The
surreal passion that flows like dreams
There
is a prophecy I will awake
But
I do not believe in human rites
I
will stay buried under these old woods
And
under foot of these ecstatic nights.