“My god, did you see her face?”
“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?”
“That woman is poison!”
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.
Outdated posters posted on window panes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
Of slim escape
From minuscule taunting
In boomerang cycles
Of an all too familiar
Attempts to vary exemplary notations
Requires compensation to rebuild edifices
From the fabrics of foundations.
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.
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
Thinking that you’re dead.
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.