HE KNEW…

 

When she walked up to him and said, “I am glad you’re here!” He knew.

When she danced in front of the stage where he played his ass off she knew he watched her.

When she kissed him and looked into his eyes the first time, He knew.

She got drunk and asked him to make drinks in a certain way and drank and poured them on herself, telling him she wanted to be owned by him-he knew then.

She said, “I am your lover, your partner, your friend, I want you to be all those things…I love you and I know you love me…” He knew.

When they fought and he held his mud when it was about his perseverance and his boundaries and she loved despite the obvious difference, he knew.

When she came to him after great difficulties, knowing he would be there and showing it-he knew.

Many things came to the surface in their interactions. It seemed like a struggle, and really it seemed more about gaining familiarity. She asked and wondered how he could know his feelings so soon it made her suspicious of him because other less mature males had professed undying love and gone down the crazy road with her, causing torment and hovering like flies over a carcass. So when he fought inside himself not to pass it up and take on others for the sake of sex, he knew. He knew because the domain he created needed her as the Empress and inspiration. She wanted to mellow herself and gain impetus to succeed and she slowed because it felt like too much too soon. After twenty years and eighteen years with the August women, starting similarly and lasting long, he knew this one had a greater fit and more intensity and certainly great heaping portions of magical sensitivity and creative verve. She took nonsense and made magical sense of it with result and forward occurrences. She had to think because he would fight off and figuratively slay her suitors like Ulysses returned home and stringing the bow. Oh they were many, like the many women who came to him and sought his company and love. So large were their hearts and full of those they loved yet expansive for this love they would experience with one another.

So with both of them their health and well-being like most with great magical export, experienced their personal trials. He exorcised her more than once, eating her demons like grilled meat and she in the offering fucked him to greater power and illuminations. He found and expanded his love through sex and orgasm-hers and his, sometimes mutual. He opened the doors of secret darkness in the female aspect, rarely experienced by a man or a woman.

In this darkness he found her accumulated synthesis of thought forms, some with great malevolence; others with power grids of energy upcharge. Her monsters came to kill him and became food of the sort that magicians take in an evocation course.

His enchantments came to the helping of others and the extirpation of parasites.

Each time she would leave from frustrations with him, she would return to profess her love…

to be continued…

©2015MHumunculero

Pie in a Serpentine aspect


When I bite this piece of reality like the meat in a sandwich,
It’s juicy and flavorful like a bit of truth,
No drugs can cure this stark picture,
It doesn’t need judgment,
It’s just pathetic
It’s all exploitation the getting even
For the getting even,
In this the hook has been driven
Like mutual self-assured destruction.


So this love, tough for a legacy,
Won’t be hidden by anger or woe,
It won’t be hidden at broken promises,
Too many lies,
Too many exposed fears,
Too many bad habits born out of beatings,
So you can make them serious,
And they don’t believe nor care if it’s true,
It’s the same old pattern,
Same old beat down,
Crusty don’t give a fuck nod.

Meanwhile there’s a real sunrise in the desert,


A place with no remembered legends,
A silhouette to be reckoned,
The curse is in,
And the fools think themselves immune
While the decay cannot be reversed,
And the wound slowly grows
While the former hero finds
Other pleasures and delights,
And she pines away, far away…

And she wastes her time again on a fool.
And she misses me.
I watched this waste of times times ten,
As I had wasted mine times fifty.


A Dragon of heart evoked
Flies on hot wind incinerating the wretched
Who wished themselves destroyed,
Destroyed while the solar heart rises
Cool in aspect,
Glowing gold in early morning sadness
Imperturbable by purpose
Fought over
Won over by virtue of confidence
And the most final smile.

©2015MHumunculero

Thorndart

Deep sleep so soft and dark, dark without remembered dreams. I woke up drooling remembering another bloodlust, a hunt for a crazed fucker, a beater of women. Women he couldn’t subjugate or dominate by virtue of presence and appreciation.
They remain a pleasure to send to dark demise, not without grievous torture.

This is a torture without hands on, a series of awful occurrence. I sent the entity of my own making into his deep mind to find his greatest pains and fears. The entity absorbed them and grew. It injected them into his emotional source and its deepest triggers. I had no desire to know what they were only to have my creature find them, trigger them and make them cause him great anxiety and pain. He spent sleepless nights and dragging days of little accomplishment filled with remorse and insecurity. He made mistakes at every turn. He sabotaged every relationship and person dear to him. He fumbled in his career and alienated his colleagues and customers. He wrecked his car and his truck. He appeared like a child to his lover. She left him in disgust. She craved his punishments and now he could no longer give them. She insulted him unabated. She lied to him and he did not try to catch her in them. She hit him without his counterpunches and beatings. He cried like a child and whined to her and pissed his pants. She could take it no more.

He got more and more pathetic. He hurt morning and night. His days and nights were torture. He longed for death and fantasized killing himself or driving someone else to kill him. He imagined himself a target of the angel of Death.
And so once again the dank, cold pleasure of the drawing of a death curse filled me like a sweet drink of cold nectar. Black and thick, sickeningly sweet and bitter at the aftertaste. Pleasing until the end like the intromission period after a long orgasm. Cold, cold, cold like the best quietude on a moonless night. And so I remembered all the energies of entropy that surround the deaths of the guilty and deserving of their murder yet never done by another person or by suicide. More like getting hit by tumbling debris from a demolished building or getting hit and run over by a convoy of trucks, feeling pain long after dismemberment and disbursement of his remains, like living hamburger with raw nerves exposed and turned up with pain.

In a cold decided demeanor I called the runes, vibrating them and feeling their export to the ethers with attendant dark colors. I stood on the bind rune, the sigil of this target’s demise in the center, calling the Gods of death and entropy visualizing the target’s engulfment in darkness while stabbing him in effigy in the heart of the sigil. The Gods came cold upon him, sweeping him into the terror they invoke in others who do not understand the fruition in destruction and death as the pathway to rebirth or oblivion. It passed, cold, and black, blind in the opaque flatness of it.
“Die, die, die, die, die…” the chant went on and on fading with the burning of the incense and burnt parchment. Robe removed and folded reeking of Saturn incense I went into the night to drink tea and listen to death metal dirges droning me into the early morning towards sleep again at dawn and an amnesia of the night’s events.
In the days which followed everyone who wished great harm upon the target seemed to accumulate wishing him imaginatively greater and greater demise.

Finally, one night on his way home he drove past his neighborhood to a street leading out of town into a mountainous part of the desert. Low peaks of broken basalt adding to the overall darkness. The road faded to dirt. He drove up on a ghost town looking set of structures until finally a small bar appeared as a corner structure drawing him inexorably toward it. He parked, went to the doorway and walked in through a short corridor. The bar was low lit mostly from the floor. The bar stools were nearly all occupied except for a stool on the far end. Lowered volume droning music gave a depressed drone. Our target sat down on the end stool and noticed all the customers were hooded, dressed in black, faces obscured. He noticed a painting on the wall of a demonic Ulysses with eager expressing slaying all of Penelope’s suitors with the bow only he could string. The painting seemed to be oozing blood onto the floor. A woman walked up to him from the back of the room, came up to him, stomped on his toes with pointed heels, drawing blood. Another man walked up and stabbed a needle like long dagger into his shoulder to draw the most pain. Soon a crowd formed, kicking him, cutting him, bludgeoning him to submission then picking him up, waking him and beating him further, finally the crowd took him to the alley behind the bar and they chained him to four cars, one for each limb, waiting for the signal to pull him apart. And so they did, very slowly tearing his already agonized form to pieces and finally shards mixing their blood and his guts into the desert soil.
I saw the entire terrifying tale in a special report on the news the next day.

A cool, dark gloating came over me. I had been gone from these enchantments too long.

 

©humunculero2015

 

 

Elystrian fielding


Crazy boogie

 Twisty feed

Multi angled love pouch

Slick grind

Deep love avoidance

Undeniable bonding

Ten thousand Ulyseesean arrows

Killing 15000 boys who’ll never be men…

It seems like fun for a minute

Soon becoming like the swatting of so many shit eating flies

A dime novel version of Beelzebub,

Lesser parts of weaker personas ungratified,

Exorcist’s erotic elixir burning like lava spewed

From volcanic lust

Deep in an earthly Baphomet bowel

The Goat sees,

The Goat feels,

The Goat fucks,

Something like approval,

Something almost like distain

Curling this lip…