Once you sink,
once you take that vertiginous leap
into the chill inky abyss of the night;
you’re afraid at first,
there’s just too much.
And I knew I could never leave that darkness.
There’s no going up,
only unfathomably lower into obscurity.
And no one could get down to where I was;
there was just too much night around me.
On your way down
to the Cimmerian void,
you realize that the earth is dead anyway.
We’re all just slimy barnacles
sucking on its fat, revolting carcass,
eating its viscera and feeding off of its toxic miasma.
But what is worse
lifelessly performing in a sideshow of fetid inertia
or falling too far into the night —
past the ineffectual nothingness.
There was nothing left for me in that putrid carnival anyway.
Crazy or not,
scared or not.
Artistic Statement: Destroy everything you know. Quit your job. Quit your school. Quit your boyfriend. Quit your life. If it feels good, it’s not wrong. Nothing matters. Nothing exists. Nothing is sacred. Nothing is impossible. Everything is a lie. We’re all going to die anyway. If it’s not shocking or ugly, it’s not worth looking at. If there’s no blood, no pain, no shame; there’s no subjugation, no catharsis, no purpose. Fuck it, before it fucks you.
Bio: Experimental underground filmmaker, Céline Anglemeyer-Harding, has written and directed several feature films including the the neo-noir snuff classic, I Shit On God; the controversial documentary, Hashtag Dilation and Curettage, featuring footage of a woman live-tweeting her abortion; and the Razzie Award nominated romantic comedy, Just Because He’s In You, Doesn’t Mean He’s Into You. Her entire body of work has been banned in Canada. This is her first (and hopefully, last) poem.