Tales From Velvet Hotels

There is a certain secret that lies under
The place you and I buried ourselves in.
Recall, and ponder.
Relearn our secrets: what were they?

Here is what you learn when you dig up corpses:
That you were once a child of the sun, swallowing
Everything that touched you
Letting them take, take, take.
That you were ecstasy embodied,
Mother could not ever silence you
Louder and louder you would scream until
Neighbors would whisper complaints.
That you could whip the same hysteria
In whoever your thunder glance landed on
Men would let you tear
Their mouths apart in floods of furor
And drums would call to war
Your hysterical heart.
That Lyssa herself, they called you,
Had birthed you from her battlefield womb.

That you, you
Would never fade.
That you, you
Would never die.

Here is something you must understand
About those buried by will.
For what light wills itself extinguished
Except the one that has seen beyond
To actuality, to the moment before.
What, then, have you learnt from the fall of Persepolis?

The secret is to never trust lonely children
For they grow up into lonely kings
Abandoned in grand velvet hotels
Telling tales of Granada.
Let us stay buried then
You and I
Raging eternal wars,
Holding infinity.