Ill Clarity

She roams through deserted streets, on the lookout for raw materials.
Stumbling upon glimmering bodies of water, she
Stopped to read tomes of artifices written by a mystic,
While she wore her shit smeared spectacles.

Reciting a paragraph, she indirectly opened a dimension beneath her.
Perhaps ‘twas fortune a girl erred dictation,
For had she breathed
The full breadth of passage,
Surely she’d have been stationed
Much deeper in the mystique.

Showy words claiming, “all that glitters is gold.” Actionable
Constructs of clamoring souls lie posed in consequential remedies,
Reliving the reciprocal standard tedium of incessant forgetteries.


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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.


Caliber

Somber words, elusive, elucidate tempered
Syndical urgencies, gnarled, arising rarified
Cubical euphorias, blatantly swathed by silks of
Lustrous elocutions, flashin’ trypophobic glints.
Severities inculcating deified exuberances inside
Throes harnessed in remediable dogmas within
Discrepant oddities wearily knocking on worths.


Biggest Liar

To say your face is beautiful
Or to say your soul is breathtaking
Isn’t sufficient enough;
These words that describe beauty
Lack the ability to portray
Just how beautiful
I think you to be.

But I will never say
Your face is more beautiful than nature
Or that
Your soul is more breathtaking than the cosmos
Because I’d be lying.

But I’m the biggest liar I know.

-Sabs-