Stocked cells of humanoid parakeets,
Sporadically surmised to be discreet, are
Stowed in order by their temperaments,
Tactically suppressed ordnances inside
Hidden dungeons are exposed as flocks
Roam in blinding membraned stupor.
Shooting currents conducted by controls
Gone haywire, of pressures that exceeded
Thresholds, starkly watered down, metalloid
Bars of rattling cages are overlooked for semiotic
Patterns of emanations inside multiplicities;
Disowned. They gush, pouring out in globs of
Charred multitudes within coded venerations.
Is it possible to fall in love with probabilities,
To fall in love with a soul that’s a maybe,
To fall in love with intangible realities.
Then why is it that I have fallen
For the just barely.
Keep resonating inside
Archaic echoes of concentric conceptions
Of discomforting dazes in ecstasies
Where eyes of a deranged criminal cackled
Then cracked in crippling dins of
Dined vehement emanations.
Integrations of cyclical motions
Deduced as fragments of
With her nonexistent voice,
Within exceeded pain thresholds
In jolts of crumbling lulls.
There was a time I believed
In a fantasy place.
I built a temple on
Of paranoid imagination,
Ornate acanthus leaves
Chiseled into fine lunacy,
Screeds of data scrolled
Into voluted borders,
As fluted grooves of belief
Sang to me, ’twas reasoned.
In disbelief, I
Watched the wrecking ball
Of objective participants
Demolish the columns
I had sculpted with
Time and attention
Left in ruin.
I won’t build temples again.
You had chosen life instead.
I had wanted to see magic
At least once.