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.

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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.”

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.

Thin Ice

“You assume.”
Blurk says, with the words’ connotations
Hidden away inside context.
Grorg assumes, chooses to
Take a risk instead of asking for clarification,
Carrying on with the conversation,
“Can’t you see I did this for you.”

Blurk grits her teeth, she’s fuming, she tries to quell
The searing anger bubbling up inside,
But her voice is laced with hate,
“Despite all that, it was you who just
Decided and went, it was you who just got up and left.”

Grorg’s self-imposed sacrifice won’t suffice as justification,
Not to Blurk, not in this moment in time.

The benefits that came along
With Grorg’s departure
Remained a secret she had
Been unwilling to impart,
Not even when she felt
Grateful as a consequence,
Because she had been convinced
There must have been a better way.

Quiet Plans

Serpentine master jewelers with criminal
Minds quietly planned out their next glories
While their protégés sat by idly
Counting meteoroids that dramatically
Parted from asteroids.

“Go, and collect the pallasite
From fallen meteorites. Use your familiars,
They’ll act as indicators, to find the sites
Nearby, and we promise we will
Fulfill each and every fantasy.”

Heeding idolized words they grabbed
Their little stone cutting swords,
Setting out on their small adventure,
Disgusted by sparkling beauties
Stuck inside ironic space rock histories.

Silently, raucous crafters would comedically
Gaze at cute relativistic truths in tragedies,
Where they, in their folly, didn’t know, in horror,
How to form the questions to find the answers in mysteries,
But entertained uncontinuously, to a scientific degree,
Robustly, with gusto, lost semantically.

“Nice! These’re real! Not fake!”,
Their exclaims riddled with romantic
Qualities, “Oh how generally pleased they’d be, if
They were personified here to see!”
They frolicked with pleasured gleams from the actions
They could shuck, wishing they could psychologically
Do much more, killing to do so much more, on a
Planet like mars, on falling meteors.

Faith

“Did you know
That centaurs argue like children?”

“Really? In what way?”,
My comrade’s face scrunches.

“Ya, their responses usually have
Consisted of, ‘Nay, t’was you.”

She lets the information sit for a bit
While trying to stomach it,
Tossing a six pence,

“That’s terrible. The same
Centaurian herds that throw, in alternation,
Those large mechanized stone beaded weapons
When battling three tailed tauruses
(Their arch nemeses), that are
Worn deceptively as necklaces?”

She stares blankly up, standing still,
From beneath the oak tree
From which we’re collecting bark,
Taking the moment, I remark, “The
Very same, they must be aware
That there are—“

She dreamily interjects,
“No, there must be a galactic reason
They’d speak so nonsensically..”

She pauses pensively, I wait for her to finish
Her thought, “Maybe it was just
During those moments,
Those specific moments,
When they felt they had been
Cornered and believed, maybe they knew,
That other kinds of airs didn’t exist when they’d
Lose themselves in losing arguments.”

So Far

“This is an instance of a cue
To go outside or stay inside.”
“Well, what will it cost you?”
“That, I still don’t seem to know.”

“Well, have you seen the wares of the sundries merchant?”
“Oh yes, I’ve been. I spent a little of my money on some black dye
But only used a few drops to cast some color on these fibers,
But there are many more garments I’d like to alter..”
“Let me guess, you still need to learn
The skills to completely dye this set?”

:I
“Wait, careful, there’s a pod trap
Laid out in those ochre patches.”
“Something might be there then.”

:II
“Was it worth all that dreadful pain?”
“Very much so, I think the thrill and excitement
That exists in the avoidance of being
The next kill is undeniably fascinating.”
“What would have happened if things
Hadn’t worked out as well?”
“There is no reason to dwell on such
Trivialities ya brown noser.”

:III
Hmph. I see the purpose of your question
Therefore, I will not give you the satisfaction.

“TSsss. I heard that.”

“Puh-lease. It’s only cuz I let you.”

Commentaries

They rove against the barren terrain
That hold an appearance
Close to scaled slated tile rooves,
Climbing over the edges of inclinations,
Stuck in the crevasses of glitchy objects.

Bugs swarm in clouds of punctuations,
Specifically in their antithetical constitution,
Lost to dimensions where they’d disambiguate.

Data (filtered),
Stimuli (uncatalogued),
Where the attentive, conversely
Focused on pathless destinations;
Lexes cold heartedly categorized into “Unimportant”.

Reciprocal commentaries on the order
Take place as they’d pray, sedated
By the fact that faulty maps
Didn’t display their location.