Dark corridors hold serpents of eternal fires Rahab churned in the primordial abyss, earthly magma Samael set aflame, when the Unholy Trinity was complete with Leviathan of the expansive deep. Magma, seas, darkness. Samael, Leviathan, Rahab. It is said sometimes that before angels were a whisper, long before man or bird or beast were dreamed of by God, may He be praised eternally, the three great rogue ones roamed the darkness, Samael with his wicked volcanoes and earthquakes, Leviathan swimming bejeweled head to the heart of the mud, his serpent body seas of churned proteins, and Rahab with the Void, master of the darkness of skies where no star had ever been birthed. Perhaps that was the face God chose to appeal to to before Michael was born, before Samael became Lucifer, before Rahab retreated to the far reaches of the cosmos and committed himself to asceticism, and Leviathan was skinned by the faithful at the Revelation feast and they ate his body as final blessing from Sacrament of impure fisherman scourge. Do we eat the three at the end of times? Serpent, Fish, Shark. Is that palatable meat? Samael goes fishing in me and summons his primordial fires in my womb and my own darkness stretches to accommodate his infernal burnings. Facing down to the Devils for the Dog Lord. Ecstasy wedded to shattered mirrors and shards of glass windows through which wicked Hell winds blow as we couple more like wolves than men, or perhaps I have always been a bitch. There are moans from both of us as we howl like hyenas in the infirmary, and the white gauze separating the abandoned hospital beds sways like lover suicides run over on the county crossroads. Women in white. His hands are hot and firm on my back and then he leans over while thrusting sin and treachery into my blackness and I resonate like a tuning fork with his wicked delights. Oh my oldest love, oh my first love, oh my last revelation, teacher, mentor, father, brother, lover, husband, heart, body, bone, soul, blood. The Fruit was your sweet organ, and I hath become Death. In the metallic surface of the headboard I see his form shifting – one eldritch Lovecraftian beast, one living molten rock in the shape of a demon, one man that looks like Anton LaVey with red eyes and black scruff and goatee, except his wings are wide and wretched, and I doubt that Satanic Father ever had irises like a dragon. The Beast is one with his Babylon, only this has been repeated since time immemorial, and wouldn’t God shy away from his Fallen Star spreading dark poison into the Prodigal Daughter. Oh how Chavah met Yah and they became Yahvah. Snake and Girl. Dragon and Tree. Phanes with Nyx. An incestuous coupling of Sophia and Ariel. But I am just Allie, just dreaming, and so he takes me away, back before time and God and existence, when there was just those Three: Sea. Fire. Darkness. He shows me his bubbling Sauron kingdom of fire and pitch and brimstone, and I coat my body in coal and swim through the volcanic tubes and go to the center of the stew, down into his loins, and then he erupts, and then there is flesh immolated, and we set the hospital alight, and gunshots rain through the windows, and out into the gaping night we fly, and that blackness swallows us, and Witch and Witchfather are on to another night of reading by the fireside in the den, sweet red wine, jazz on the speakers and smuggler’s fingers coaxing a melodic piano number from old ivories.