Last Week

There is some necessity in sweetening. And is it only because of Cancer in the second house? Or Venus in the second house? Or even Jupiter in the second house?

It doesn't matter. Because in this earthly sphere/abundant world, there are myriad ways to sweeten. All (not all) thick, lovely bestowing upon the tooth, the tongue, the belly, the base of the brain a pervading experience of perfection. Perfection feels like peace.

Perfection, then, is maple syrup.
Tree milk.
Perfection, then, is honey.
Bee milk.
Perfection, then, is molasses.
Cane milk.

Do you remember how sweet was your mother's breast? Unlikely, because there was no bitter world to compare it to.
Perfection, then, is milk.
Human milk.
Breast milk.
It would dribble down your chin as eyes rolled into back of head. Milk drunk.
Your mother would easily forget important details, names and dates, how to spell. She was drunk too. You were here lover and beloved.
That breast was the whole sweet world and you drank & drank.

O maple syrup! Manifest original sweet world.
O honey! Manifest sweet world!
O sugar! Rot me from the inside for a moment of sweet loving to fill me up. I will give you myself completely.
O cow milk, who we steal out of baby beasts' mouths to stuff into our own in attempt to drink ourselves back to Eden! O cow milk! for the sake of the calves we cuckold, fill our mouths, our spines, our brains with some original lovely sweetness, so that baby cow bellies and their experience of sweet whole world not go empty in vain.

O mama mama mama, your milk so long ago dried up, don't forget to hold me hold me that I might never leave that perfect world in orbit round your breasts.