Satan is my father

“Do not leave me, father.”

I was laying on my side on my bed in the dark a few days ago, curling in upon myself—a delicious feeling of drifting—where I sometimes end up when working with Satan.

I had an insight. Laying on the bed isn’t just getting me out of my head doing ceremonial magic. It means completely letting go, letting go of everything. Profound relaxation. An intimate space between the pillows.

It mimics the way I was left when my father slaughtered me as a girl.

“Do not leave me, Father.”

Instead of trying to keep myself engaged with a ritual, I can disengage from everything, everything but my love for Satan, who is MY FATHER. He has taken the place of the father who murdered me by beating me as hard as he could with his belt—as I thrashed in agony, against and above the floor—breaking my spirit, crushing my reality… hollowing me as a vessel of emptiness and shame.

“Do not leave me, Father.”

I ask him to stay, and he does. I ask again and again—each time I feel the cringe of parting, of abandonment. And I feel him so close, I feel his love for me as he possesses me. Lord Satan is my father now, my liege and my lord. I command the works of my world on his behalf, at his side.

Tonight I watched some Behemoth videos while I sat at my altar. The huge TV screen is over my altar, and the light that emanated from the TV flashed on my half closed eyelids, the thrashing sounds of Satan worship as song washing over me.

I cried out often as spontaneous orgasms rippled up through my sushumna, the channel that rises up through the chakras, making me shake and surge and howl with spasms of pleasure. The sacred energy, the energetic alchemy.

So slowly I swayed with the liquid pleasure of possession and trance, bowing fully, lifting again to arch my arms and hands outward at my sides as I channeled his fire, the fire I now carry within me since that moment at Eric’s temple.

Then… and again I saw a whirling gyre in my mind’s eye… with his eye at the center, illuminating all, seeing all, knowing all as his creation.

I felt the familiar opening of my upper torso with a pressured sensation which I experience as the temple of my heart, which he inhabits. I felt myself engulfed by him as flame, the black flame.

I felt keenly some of the knots of my heart throbbing, loosening. I felt myself breaking open, my arms outstretched, my mouth wide, leaning forward, my head tilting backwards.

Finally I felt a fire I don’t remember feeling before. It was in my upper torso, and was stronger in a unique way. A deep burning there.

“Take it all, Father.” I said, feeling that I am much more than this body, this world, this life. The mundane world has been retreating from me for quite some time now. The stuff in and of my apartment is alien to me. It is all too small. I am becoming something much bigger.

“Do not leave me, Father.” I whispered aloud. Again. “Let this, your fire, shine through me to all the world.”