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.

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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.

Checked Realities

Grimaces plastered on grimy water basket cases,
Meander, search, and grasp at twiny string dolls
Gandering stringently at lettered arcane whorls on the floor
“Now, where did this lead, this peculiar thing..?”, seethingly
Inquiring within warring memories; where every word,
Listlessly given and taken, was not felt any more than
How gusty dreams were had unknowingly.
Yet they’d cling to these invisible clothesline strings.

Curses

Enveloped in awe they’d watch
Earthen moats inundated
With brine that gently sprout
Out from the back of enchanted palms
As they rose fluffy doe eyed creatures,
Approximately the size of clementines,
That were then knowingly dropped in.

The intrepid look to noisy applicators,
Afraid this was the last time,
Afraid that they wouldn’t be
Able to swim through tepid aquas,
In order to heed their decrees
Where they, in acquiescence,
Wondered how fates would bend,
Then sadly said, “We don’t believe”.

As they unintrepidly cried,
“Just stay here
With me..        please.”

Because they couldn’t see
Their distant reasoning.

“Uncertainty is just a part of life.”
They reactively deadpanned,
At which they spat, “fuck you, you shats.”

These Lens

“Imminence or donning diffractive glasses within gambled
Zealotries, must be closer to desertion, and shouldn’t be
Wrought into the everythings and nothings of the concrete.”

“Alright, then, when and whence were they not only
Impressed in broken violets, if none were given reasoned answers?”

Lunging throes trending inside paradoxical mediations amazed at
Unctuous thralls of dazed preferences alluded in conformities.

The Last Greed

Serfs tearily sow fields at dawn with no water on a reef,
Mercurially, sweating profusely, by aligned clusters of cacti,
Unanimously called for the useful season’s plummeting rain,
Recalling seethingly, puddles that weren’t savored down to the
Tiniest drop, whilst unsure what effects the toxic alkali
Had on parched bodies; arguing inside made formations of cochlea
On orreries after receding, wrapped inside their only known summit.

Her Departure

For a moment of brevity in perpetuality
Luminescent spores revealed to me
Her countenance, underscored
By her turning away as she placidly
Strode at a pace free of care,
The distance could only have
Been at an arm’s length, spatially,
So I got up, very carefully
To chase after her copy, the space..I
Swear, it–it extended infinitely.

She placates with a whisper, “You don’t care.”
She knows, she sees the same thing
“Why is it that you can’t see
That I have been chasing constantly”,
My voice, indifferently, doesn’t reach her.

She’s left this, our, place, without warning,
We both once named Blushing Bromeliad,
Where poking pointed tulips coexisted on lily pads
When I had gathered countless wasted spores
Just to see her rudimentary form a bit more with clarity,
This forsaken place where illuminated contrails
Flowed freely in anointed negative spaces
That dissipated with every surge of motion.

“Stay
Please
Stay”

But it’s as if she’s stopped listening.