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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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.


Thinking Too Much

Mutated cellular
Networks; disconnected
Rotating pulsars.
Novel perceptions
Within alternative
Timelines; withheld.

The wise
Warn away
Psychotic crazes;
Caffeinated paranoias,
Measured, counted, timed,
Noisily direct static arrays.

Love’s idiosyncrasies: a gain.

Persistencies estranged,
Happenstances of ill-fates;
Late teal falls, lifted
From the ill conceived
For the sake of fantasies.

Still,
He resided
Within the depths,
Standing in their place.


Total

The sun rises in flickering speeds, flashing
Through dusty clouds of snake skin scenes.
Rios effervesce on nature’s metaphysical terminologies
Where reeves and ruffs wade and conversate in tongues
Deluding themselves in grandiosities and insecurities;
Their greatest fears and hopes and dreams and nightmares;
Transcending airs swish fully into translatable swivels by
Daunted leaves immediately disappearing in haste into ethers.

Scores brightly lit by suns of unhindered perceptions in saturated
Lifts of lit blues that adhere and blend, fading in white stinted tints.
Denied rivulets act as hovels to tiny dancing nymph like creatures
While the injured act as indications of reasons to hide in fantastical
Seasons of obtrusive and senseless connotations, warping muddy
Cesspools of crazed lines, crackled and cracked, slighted fixations
Reenvisioned by processes, repeated, ideations writ in binary code,
Lost in the originations of the creator in the why’s, how’s, and when’s.

Superficial wares sold on ness like borders, consciously decided
By migrant roamers unaware of the “to what extent’s” of fineries
That seem perceivable, while the unknown suffer those lamentations.
Hideous throes of murky dribbles flow into sub-terrariums located
Beneath those rios. Environmental observations of stimuli by these
Passerbys qualify the quantitative gaggles of the Animalia and
The Mystical in cajoling reversals of possible combinations while
Slurping up shucked clams, having acquired those preferences.

Unseen moons in rotations cover the suns in totality, inhaling focal
Lights, leaving traces of luminescent umber shades softly fading into
Darkened ultramarines of minimized scales as exhalations release
Them into emotional states of misguided attempts of icy humanistic
Redundancies, removed in blurred lines of intended plans in subjective
Realities that echo and rebound nonsensical formations of evidences
Made up by matters of solidities inside paranoid fueled conjectures;
Forcing us to question what is real and what isn’t.


Time Dimensions

“My god, did you see her face?”
“She’s scary.”
“She looks crazy.”
“You don’t have to listen to her!”

Within dimension A,
Vast fields of shadeless hands
Tinged with holographic purples
Weakly fold fingers in succession,
Yelling their wisdom in vibrations.

“Can you really trust her?”
“Turn back!”
“That woman is poison!”
“She’s deceptive.”

Within dimension B,
Circuits of animated electric currents
Coloured in lightning hues, for digital displays,
Travel in angled lineations
Statically sparking advisories in
Grids of channeled pathways.

Dimensions of similar spaces
Where spurred formations of
Love existed in different time frames.

Trying to Comprehend

Outdated posters posted on window panes
Displays of colours faded from ultra violet rays.
Advertisements solely leaving traces of azure hues
Where the instances of human comprehensive abilities
Only seem to reside in the field of colour theory; the key
Necessary to unlock its otherwise mysterious coloured origins.

Posters stored in tubular cases in order to preserve
Printed colors of origination, discolored by drifting
Felt measurements in realities of human ingenuity.

Entendre’s in retarding phrases
Of anger infused words
Instilled by distilled
Purifications
Of boredom,
Breaking,
Pain filled
Redundancies,
Of escapades
Of slim escape
From minuscule taunting
Reverberations berating
In boomerang cycles

Of an all too familiar
Word:

lonely.

-Sabs-

Rubrics

Attempts to vary exemplary notations
Requires compensation to rebuild edifices
From the fabrics of foundations.
It necessitates:
Astute attention to hidden structures
Of the other’s fundamentals of perception
Which can only be procured through
The passing of time in confessions
Made accidentally; vaguely or distinctly;
Focusing on points made from occident to orient,
Keeping tabs on distortions and moments of sagacity;
Replacing porcelain pillars for metal beams
Carrying materials required to flip a scheme,
While the holder of the toppling monument
Finds blissful escape in preconceived rubrics.

While there is value
For memory, determination, patience,
For proficiency, exploration, and experience,
Trying to completely rebuild landmarks
Carefully built from a life being lived
Does not equate to time, effort, or energy well spent.

-Sabs-

I’m Nice

Riddled proclamations of love
Prove to have been nothing more
Than trash slopped sewage sludge.

Oh yes, please go ahead,
Please waste my time
For the sake of your rhyme.

While I tend to your bidding
Doing exactly as you portend.
Just a puppet in disguise,
Pretending I’m nice.

While I decide
These series of unfortunate events
Have occurred in my head
A digestible truth
Compared to
Thinking that you’re dead.

-Sabs-

Just in Case it Mattered

The first time he vanished from the earth
I prayed to the gods; they answered with mirth
The heavens smiled, showed me great fortune;
Desperately I searched, though my soul, tortured,
I’d hold my head in my hands, and by chance,
Or dedication, or maybe it had been planned,
I heard him ask a question. While I was swept
Over by indecision, I wavered, incessantly, I kept
Putting it under examination. I’d leave it to faith;
With unhindered determination he’d reach the place
He wanted to be. Grains of sand slithered downwards,
I started to worry; apprehension surged me forward,
Responding to lost time, I gave him a particle;
“I have been searching”; just in case it mattered.
But I remain uncertain, will I, without the help
Of the sovereign, be able to hear his voice again.

If he isn’t dead.

-Sabs-