All I’m desperately trying to do is introduce new horizons, each with the promise of limitless discovery. I’ll found the School of Restroom Magick: How to Achieve Divinity in the Convenience.
I know that I hung on the wind tossed tree all of nights nine!
The Eye of Hoor is one of the gates and leads to the dark path of enlightenment.
The Snake can be awakened, the Rood being bedaubed.
None offered me bread
Caviar stains the teeth. Mandarin-meals are best.
Or handed me wine!
Of the Golden wine much has been written. Few drink long, deep and full of the nectar from this nourishing Rose wherein dwells blood and iron.
Spittle can avail, if hard sucked from the nose and deposited in another’s throat.
Wounded by spear, bespoken myself to Myself!
Cruel fingers lacquered in lust bring forth the tears that lead to understanding as wet-look lips and tongue sup the watery, lukewarm, fish porridge.
I looked below me, aloud I cried, caught the runes; caught them up wailing!
Inscrutable eyes, misperceived mercies, whips, zips, alligator-clips and desperate pleas arise as invocations.
Let him drink of the sacrament and let him communicate the same. This is the Holy Hexagram.
Thence to the earth fell again!
And in as much as I meet the blood-engorged challenge
I believe in the resurrection!
Hail Myself that I seek to be!