Is You

She, dual wielding katars,
With two swift strokes
Swung her blades,
Stopping abruptly,
Suddenly made aware
To the slivers of polished daggers,
Fores of intricate emblems
With ivy’s intertwined, I was
But a prey encumbered
By her presence, divine;
Paralytic anesthetic;
She whispered nouveau rhetoric
Didactic into mine ear, a momentary
Removal from the fungal
Banal aesthetic, instantiated at that place,
Where fear once invoked lust.


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Passed

Corroborated values taken in accordance as proof for a possible fiasco
Of recounted occurrences inside the chimes of our ardour.
Sickly renouncing worth from those that could be called the judgmental
Inside the collected numerical visions of the pusillanimous; staggering.
Horcruxes of souls stuck inside a chalice, diadem, diary, ring, and locket;

Inside the erroneous odes of evidential realities and questionable posthumous yore.


Still an Illusion

They, wrapped up in distressed linen cloth, standing
By canterburies of incorporeal prints
Tried to hold onto throes of intangible realities.

The same bandages didn’t console those pungent airs,
That forebode unmitigated fairs of disbelieving fears:
Promontory offenses on useless appeals of time.

Their loves built towers up on wide hollow fields
Ridiculously validated by dunes of instability
While overtly knowing the futility.

The piece de resistance: a diluted menage a trois,
Fineries reduced to relativities as filthy insectoids raided
Their tarnished crafts of mortifying indulgences.

Thinking their hidden flesh decaying underneath
Would provoke disbelieving holds of noses,
Whilst they’d run and click their tongues, a tut-tut,

Wanting to believe they could be loved; a grimaced hilarity.


Ill Clarity

She roams through deserted streets, on the lookout for raw materials.
Stumbling upon glimmering bodies of water,
She stopped to read tomes of artifices written by a mystic,
While wearing her shit smeared spectacles.

Reciting a paragraph, she indirectly opened a dimension beneath her.
Perhaps ‘twas fortune a girl erred dictation,
For had she breathed
The full breadth of passage,
Surely she’d have been stationed
Deeper within the mystique.

Showy words claiming, “all that glitters is gold.” Actionable
Constructs of clamoring souls lie posed in consequential remedies,
Reliving the reciprocal standard tedium of incessant forgetteries.


You Can

Zephyrs spur spectered spectres
That held scepters that altered
Respective receptive receptors.
Jarred jolts at despaired wonder,
Kinetically ascribed by tauntings;
Viscous hallucinogenic snots vis a
Vis other supple bodily secretions
Frowned upon palpable discovery.

Cryogenic warmth found at jet
Colored fjords where ginormous
Boulders roamed menacingly
Towards confounded ignoramuses
Sans equipment by ret pharisees
Who had sent those badly set up
Sentiments; their entitled biases.

Conundrums of disclosed forms
Slipping on sands of those sets
Set as luck; all those ignorances.


So They’d Bet

Yellow sea memorandums,
Writ by enumerated acrostic methods,
Profiled with evaporating ball point pens,
Recorded methodically in tandem,
Sum up to zero absolutes.
Crumbs settled in bottled up rums
From chrysanthemum reductions,
Slid onto rows inside sad emporiums
Within decadent mausoleums
Decorated by faux skies inside planetariums.

Petroleum fires extinguished
Near truth battered lies,
Succumb to escapisms
Fueled by those seeking freedoms
From under the thumbs of scums
Called lovers, the originators,
Stewing in padded vats of bacterium.


Factors

Incorrigible attitudes at the hardly understood
Indignantly cry at prevaricated answers.

Innocuous battle cries at wizards that would conjure
Instantiated wonders; spell bound, struck down

Into the death throes of future’s past; present.
Alligated from fervent fervors, acquired

Ethereal fires; fanning bluish flames
Of whited emissions,
Entire fields filled with flighty familiars

Omitting their own
At reductive reasonings
Of combative souls
In rustic chains
Of calculative
Indecencies.


Awake

Caterpillar cybernetic; an enhanced endoscopy:
Robotically shredding lettuce abundancies, they would crop,
Theoretically, munching with hydraulic gusto.

Crochet ends of moonstone decor with lined asteria;
Tinted in translucent opalescent nebulaeic dreams,
Twisting in macrocosms of a microscopic cornucopia.

Tactlessly lopping underneath bundles of nuclei,
Countlessly discounted, as the earth cached fated
Zero-sum games, stilted, in an altered dystopia.