The Next Space

She flitted away into the thin air, leaving
Traces of her ice-white flames
Where a quite quaint kiosk stood quietly
She gave me a smile as she said, “Come and follow me.”
The closest simile I can think of to describe her intonation,
Consists of: like she knew of something I didn’t know of.

When she shone, again, at the nexus
Like she said she would, she then left.
Leaving me, right here, with no way
To reach the next space, I
Frantically sought after her sanctity,
But I can’t seem to remember,
Where or when it was, when I asked
Myself; Isn’t it enough that I saw her,
That I found her again and again,
To prove to my brethren of my not insanity?

When I knew that it wasn’t.
Because the last time I’d nearly
Convinced them mystical beings existed.

Advertisements

Passed

Mechanized zombies with peas for brains,
Waddle in this iridescent planetary conservatory,
Toddle, rather, wandering through deviant roads,
Where regulatory disturbances couldn’t be
Heard or known when they hadn’t roamed
Then gained the present of experience,
Despondently wishing garish pathways
Became evident to sight, to regale, instead.

To Have Met Her

Why, how quickly time did aggress,
With life escaping in each exhalation,
Bedridden, I gaze into her mournful eyes
My bones, my body, once faithful, now aching,
Feel far too foreign, as though
They were not mine own.

Too far didst we irate wayfarers daringly venture,
Far too late, in these revered hissing storybooks,
Were we thoroughly told, facetiously disvalued
By the most cruel and callous gods you so reverently adored.

Had we been found just a wee bit earlier, ‘twould have easily been
Thine fantasy writ in solid fanes of exquisite blues and golds,
But, instead, here, upon these uncertainties do we brood,
Clucking our tongues in our evaluated commitments.

Wouldst time allow me to digress
Within the limited preciousness with thee,
Within these fictitiously disjointed reveries.

The Problems

Rainbow unicorn deities cry
While they spittle nocuous things,
Where lizards’ gizzards, along
With other batches of torn innards,
Were strewn across nicely tiled floors,
Dying unglazed porcelain clays on
That insipid day of waning crescents
When blitzing seals with consternation
Gravely decided to peacefully pluck
The sun’s ray for evolutionary reasons, or
For creation’s purpose, albeit within
The fifth dimension where even known
Latent conclusions stayed on lit lasered screens
Displaying insignias that might have represented: delta.

Somehow, Someway

Quite errant simplifications tickle
Dozens of anti-players feasting on fares
We used to call pumpernickel, where
Purifications were cast by stars
That would a twinkle in edification,
While we’d search, content, for the numerical
Values in nullifications, identifications
Trickling far from personifications,
Petrified by wraiths, and their deifications,
Carrying fickle wormhole hearts, physiologically.

Rectifications of wide refractions
Within solidifications of geodes,
Where connected bacterium rose
From aberrant displays of fucking sickle cell anemias.

Didn’t Know

Within noxious magic stag nations,
On a pathway called 4D Avenue
Various dragons successfully dragged
Jostling hostiles who crazily sensed
Each uninformed truth, intuited into
Loosened muscles, to a venue
Not far from this now. Nervous futures
Invocations call forth aches inside rooms,
Kinesthetically felt, despite the fact that their
Carnivorous mandibles dissipated from view
Long before synaptic modulations.

To Have Known

So he approaches the dancing gouda cheese
Drapery, hyperextending, wrapping, and flapping
So garishly, swathing his bare skin thrillingly,
Separating the beer and skittles realm
He’s so deep within from a resting reality’s
Definition of choices, where he couldn’t really
Choose, especially when knowing tangible atoms
Could, and would, vanish right in front of him.

She Intervenes

“Don’t delude yourself into thinking
That you’re not at fault.”, she’s at the cusp.
“You keep saying I’m the only one
Who carries the burden of blame,
Because she did nothing wrong.”, blindly she retaliates.
“She’s just as wrong.” She repeats herself
For the seventh time, “But your shit smells just as strong.”
“But she,
But she,
But she, she’s fucking crazy in the goddamned brain.”,
Quickly, he points out the spaces she took giant dookies,
He can’t acknowledge the fact
That he’s diarrhea-ed all over the place.
“Your argument is that she is a child,
But your methods are the same. You reciprocate.
There are always better ways.”, she pointedly says.
“So it’s okay when she does it,
But when I do it, suddenly, I’m the villain?
What is this communism?”
She ignores the last comment,
Responds, “I never said it was okay,
My point has been that you, her, and I
Bear the responsibility of this situation.”
“Yeah OkAy, Okay. It’s all my fault.
She did nothing wrong.”, she readily turns away.
“You think that this is the ultimate form of an argument,
You think you’re winning by trying to elevate your position
By pompously pretending to agree. But what you are doing
Just shows you can’t be reasoned with,
That you just don’t want to listen,
But all you have to do is look,
Can you just poop in the toilet please?”

Documentations shatter previously held beliefs.
He’s apologetic, but fate has the situation escalating,
She escapes, while laying stiffly in bed, the neighbors complain,
While they continue flinging each other’s belongings
While airing their dirty laundry.
While she thinks about how she might be unable
To make her promise a reality.

“Shut the fuck up,
Fucking embarrassing,
The neighbors went as far as to ring the door bell
But you guys are fucking arguing still.
Fucking embarrassing.”

Their News

Heaving breaths, stuttering exhalations, think to grab gadgets
Near crazed cabrits cracking dammed walls of sheer reflective screens,
Temeraroius creaks eerily leak. They speak; “It’ll last about a year or so we think.”
Extrications awaiting to seep through unmitigated constraints, as they’d weep,
Inconsolably at absurdities, parched and lost, unable to turn back home.

Allaying their fears in discoveries of disappearing loves by utilising techs that
Overtook their cognitions, only after they shook off merits in their
Inertia, scrunched up, while raising broad notions of the dead.

The Risk

Loathsome gastropods housed in sea urchin shells
Resist meticulously venturing through alternate universes
While restlessly aware it would do them well
To advance spaces with shelters disembarked
Traversing through whorls into alternative worlds
By risking the, must have been, slight chance
They’d find the asterisk planets they sought.

Disparaged stars would guide their tentacle eyes,
While they’d all blindly flop in their own ridicule.