Sorrow & Rage

Interdimensional relationships exist within elements by touching the sound of purity else we are tainted by this reality which may or may not be the world we live; in between is a faith with limitations. Territory of inhumanity is to cross over surrounding boundaries guarding perception into illusions of trauma and suffering; some instances are not what we make believe. Our heart is the only sense organ we can rely upon once outside the kingdom; we may be led astray but the natural beat will not falsify itself. What is in our blood is impossible to imitate; a man can present a graph yet the feeling is enough to represent that which we know within, without the man.

Here I am in the upside down realm; I should of known better. I am what I am. Nobody accepts how I come; I wonder if they will notice I am gone. As a vow is written for a play to be performed undermining drama's fortune for souls, there will be few of us dismissing the roles as curtains ready to unfold; this is your choice whether or not the choice of ours. There is only one path for blood.

The audience is miserable; I am disappointed in myself for being unaware.

Reminiscent of moments stolen by misunderstanding is where I lay my head for rest; underneath my eyes are purple nightmares staring at the moon while crow's feet mark my attempts.

"Will we be invited to the wedding?"

Far out of reach a battle rages between angels alike; half are careful and the other half is reckless. Ramming into each other with furious confusion a pair curiously watches a trio dismember their wings from heavenly bodies while a quad laughs.

"There are no weddings here."

"How will we wed when we are apart?"

Outside the gates an invasion begins; beasts ram at our fortress with their numb heads.

"You can only marry out there."

"Where the enemy exists."

Brad and Cindy took several blows to the chest; both their hearts pound with forces of anguish.

"They will make it impossible to find him."

"I will be afraid to look for her..."

"You don't want to be disappointed."

"You don't want to be deceived."

Our worst fears resurrected from the aftermath of negativity; pain is birthed of a womb impregnated by misconception. We are disappointed and we are deceived; we do not search, the emotion of presumption is our response mechanism therefore any hunt we pursue will cycle us for prey. What is the purpose of control when not a thing or being is a unit of a whole? The impression of without is to peer within; there we find everyone else even if we are not there.

"I don't know how I will continue without him. He is the part of me I can see and touch. He is the part of me I adore. The other part is who I am which will not be without him. What will I do?"

"She is my wife; what does a husband do without devotion?"

"You will to see each other again."

"Devotion does not end."

"What if we do not see each other again?"

"We theorize that to be impossible if you remain calm...."

"Even when sorrow becomes rage?"

"Fighting will only prolong the wait."

"How is anything impossible?"

"You will not end."

"What of our sorrow?"

"What of our rage?"

"Those will end..."

"It will become impossible if you can make it through."

Wisdom is not a quality we exude however adaptive we may be. This house is full of my animosity which grows as my blood flows. I admit this rage to be sorrowful; chains will wrap around my knuckles for bloody hell. Their red is not the color I paint; none of them know whichever they could be. I excuse their behavior with compassion of a priest however I am not a holy man. I want them gone.

Walk On By

Zoomy's frozen fingers lock around my wrists, Mighty's wool mittens gather the under sides of my ankles, I am looking directly into You Know Who; my distress is a wolf wherever he roams. My eyes are dry sadness while I sleepily focus on three roommates, one of which is determined motivation, the other two concerned beyond momentual happenings for an unknown precedent of what keeps me on this lounge sofa. Floating alongside appendages I dream through a tiled complexity, blue adjacent to orange with brown diagnol streaks cross over a vanilla yellow sun shade of flat paint; cornering pavement to asphalt street a fire hydrant talks to me.

"What's wrong with you?"

Mouse directs our trio into my standing position as he replies to the water pillar.

"Look here....."

"Mighty if they do not understand then we cannot stop for their misunderstanding."

You Know is checking his knots to ensure a bungee proof grip.

"I'm not surprised nobody let you out of the bind."

Zoom is inside my hood over a shoulder shedding a few tears; I put an arm around his collar to catch stray drops before spraying the sidewalk.

"People just stare..."

"They do not say anything at all."

"There's nothing to say; they know you belong there. You don't belong anywhere else in the hood; nobody going to put up with your shit!"

"Why is she crying?"

"God damn...Mighty, Monks, I advise to turn your head as I assess the details further in depth of sewer drain precision techniques."

"We sincerely believe you will never know how we feel; we will live the nightmare of your controlling behavior. We will despise you tremendously."

Darkness cloaks Mouse in mystery; he is planning an exit we must accept. Circumstance unravels our subconscious as ancient messages found in a pyramid scroll yet we remain loyal to naivete. Neither of Buddha's monkeys can spare a sense for this notion of losing a friend. You Know is silent; he is aware of mythological creatures, legends, and secrets.

"We will only do it for a short while."

"Fucking punks! I'm going to make sure you puke all them shucks out the fuck your momma should of thought about before diving into a slime sack!"

"I usually do not condone violence but this particular instance I believe you deserve it."

Zoom thumb to index sweeps my chin for a glimpse of strings slithering down a rusty iron grill; straight gapped teeth chomp polyester and dyed chemise for unseen dentists to examine inside the dwelling of undocumented reptilian species.

"Not worth it at all."

"We need to take care of our needs which they are no part of...."

"What if we were?"

"We do not want anything from you."

"You want your rings..."

"I prefer to have the gentleman the ring belongs..."

"As do I..."

"We would also like to see them with those gentlemen."

"Yeah a mighty wedding...."

"You're going to marry them?"

"You sure about that?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"Hell Yeah!"

"No shit! We got things to do. If you're lucky they will pick you out for live ones. If you're unlucky we will be seeing your faces swirling around the toilet."

Group of freestyle poets for beats tuned by grey boxes huddles around; their stare is observation. Grappling patternless appendages into a two sided hook, the bait is helplessly and heartily swallowed by New York City's digestive grime; our hungry journey ends with a pat on the back belching a burp for bus boys inside a trendy pop culture Madtown restaurant.

"Is this what we will be doing forever?"

"Feels like that..."

"This is not what we want but this is what we need right now."

"Yikes is practical; this kind of business is not."

"What is the key to the game?"

"Yes what will undo the lock?"

"Longevity..."

"Devotion..."

Somehow we barely bear the witness of our dismay with food on our plates and a roof over our heads. Repetition is a course we must of failed; we keep picking up the book to slam it down on the ground.

"This is a never ending cycle."

"I don't want to be part of the circle."

"We keep missing the target."

"I'm starting to think we're doing something wrong."

Separation is personal contemplation, four chunks of concrete is a plain for props without gigs; out of work again we stop to think. I walk by Uncle Moe's bodega weeping sentimentality for an aching heart; somewhere inside this shop my mind awaits a mentor, I wonder if he gets the vibe.

"You won't have to work again."

"Chester I do not consider what I do to be work. It is a lesson of integrity and necessity."

"You love him that much?"

"The way I feel for Romeo is a woman coming back from the dead."

"I don't understand..."

"I don't feel that way about you. I will never feel this way about anybody except for him."

"You will forget about him."

"No matter what you do to me I will always desire to be with him."

"What if I control your mind?"

"If my brain cannot contact regions of memory the emotion will be my guide."

Inside the universe I exist while Chester is speaking that which astronauts sporting flags attempt, I contemplate the astronomical misery my thoughts can be for a special effects stepper to intervene.

Can Of Green Beans

You Know Who, our infamous bodyguard, places a canned food item in between us.

"You guys got to arm wrestle for this one."

We are starving from being laid off. Both of us fought the battle of indiscretion, we raged with indifference yet falling in love is peaceful.

"I do not have the strength to hold his hand right now."

"Yeah and besides that I don't want to fight over a fucking can of beans."

"I just wanted to see you monkey around a while. Alright then....."

You Know is fasting a stretch of contortion; witnessing the jungle is reconsideration of necessity, one of which is food.

"Hunger is temptation..."

"Who is right; still got to eat though!"

"Yeah I mean we got to be able to do stuff."

"Hunger is an obstinate tendency."

"He is reaching enlightenment through starvation."

"How is it we feel like shit while he's a mental high?"

"Hunger is a state of mind."

"The mind desires more?"

"Yes I now understand why he does this...."

"I am about to pass out."

"Please do lay down for a while."

"You got to take it easy and channel your energy towards thought."

Mighty is hauling a hemp sack over his middle back full of pinto beans which bursts through the bottom in a pool of organ shaped confetti.

"Damn that was going to feed us until the end of our strike."

"I wouldn't call it a strike...."

"We do not choose to be unemployed."

Who is a tangent of philosophy....

"The stomach growls similar to how we become angry..."

"Yikes, tell me how I get pissed off!"

We both join You Know on the futon of luxurious meditation which is now his habitat; none of us want him to leave, our concern is we may never see him again.

"We become angry from selfishness."

"Right on..."

"Straight up..."

"So I shouldn't be pissed off about the beans all over the damn floor!"

"We will all pick each bean, one for one, to solve the problem."

Unusually aesthetic is the plucking of speckled lungs while bubbling sounds from Mouse's bong ties in this moment of aspiration.

"There's got to be a broken bat split in half stuck up Uncle Moe's ass!"

Mighty puffs a chug of laughter exhaust into our direction; we both duck from the oncoming contact high.

"Uncle Chuck must of caught the splinters when he sat down!"

A tremendous rumble frightens us. We find the source; a rather large night owl with his beak positioned in distaste of rats and snakes.

"See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil...."

"Well then you didn't hear anything..."

M & M is washing to a sieve all the pintos which fell; he delicately places each into a pot to boil.

"They're mad cause they don't understand why Moose and Charlie Horse let them go."

"What about you?"

"Yeah the same thing happened with you and Dino..."

"Barney told me it was cause they didn't have enough deliveries since the economy is bad..."

"The economy has been bad."

"The economy is bad."

"My brothers, excuses will only lead to one thing."

"What would that be Who?"

"Yeah You let us Know!"

"I miss those guys that flip the dough."

"The one thing this will become is a can of green beans."

Aluminum with perforated paper is dullness of distance as we contemplate simplicity of wisdom from desolate mouths.

"We will be in that can if we keep bitching ready to be somebody's last dinner."

Stay

"Give me a reason why I should stay..."

"She's acting like that again....."

Brad is much too accepting of my behavior; I wonder how he is able to tolerate me at this point. I realize he has been searching for me ever since the silence; this must of concerned Cindy as well. Both circle me triumphantly exuding warmth of protection reflecting from within this being; I am pleased with their victory however I will not entertain braggadocio.

"If you were in the same position as me you would act as such."

"We did..."

"How did you get this far?"

"We were waiting for somebody to understand."

"There are a few that do; we will get by together I suppose."

"We want you to watch this video we made."

"I'm not much for viewing sorts at this moment."

"Do it for us..."

"I surrender....."

Cindy is soft spoken solidarity, her stance is lyrical momentum; when words cross her intellect she will listen to that which interests her interests yet speaks only for the sound of confirmation. I grin the crack of a coffin for her to intercept, hoping she will lift these latches for me to breathe darkness of our atmosphere lest I suffocate from the world of false creations.

"What we are about to show you will change the way you think."

"I seriously doubt that."

Cindy interjects with gentle curiosity; her voice is the feather of a fallen angel's travel.

"Why do you say that?"

"I am unchanged for the logic of man."

She is also a sheer linen which blood seeps through for a villain.

"Man is an illogical institution; there is always something new to learn."

I am without retort; she conquers the field of donkeys with mystical grass to eat.

Unfolding canvas for lens film projector, the area blackens around me in absolution of space without time continuum; I may indeed be suspended with stars for heavenly graces if I had not chosen earth to walk for the conclusion of my deeds. Pupils of unintentional nature are swallowed by the whirlpool of regret inside of me; focus is without thought. Figure of stillness is breach of video color on a white cotton shirt covering this hypnotic body; trousers huddled for rest entices the life of me to perceive the life of a man on this viewing screen. Beginning with feet, one is a slumping black sock graphed in neon green boxes hugging the axle of his toes while the other is tucked below; pair of black corduroy pants without ridges is waisted to a now visible bare chest with tender arms wrapped around a figure.

"I don't want to see anymore..."

Brad is the demon of theatre shadows blankly looking at me with a naughty grin; I show him my teeth which makes him giggle uncontrollably. Cindy is hypothesis of composition able to speak in a reasonable manner as to placate my wandering conscious.

"Nothing is ever what it seems."

"Must you be so damn wise..."

"Must you be such a damn smart ass! Just watch the god damn film! It was really hard to make! We had to hover over the poor fella while he was sleeping for Christ's sake!"

"Jesus would of been much more merciful."

"Oh really..."

"Yes he would of used one of his disciples to do the dirty work."

"Do you want me to stop the movie?"

"No......!"

"Then please for all of us and the cross we bear...."

"I'm watching...."

I sturdy my emotions to be crushed while a large bone which does appear to be human is the vision before me; rush of cool ocean waves carries a theoretical soul forming within the bat cave into a serene lagoon for sanity of frayed women to gather the self.

"Whose does it belong?"

"The one who gave you the scars on your flesh."

"I didn't care for him much either..."

"Do you remember him?"

"Not really....I can recall he was rather large."

"He gnaws on it..."

"He's sharpening his teeth; this is what you wanted to show me?"

They both turn their eyes to a fluffy blonde man hiding the side I am desiring to see underneath a naturally beautiful uncombed tease.

"Jesus would of at least moved his hair aside for a glimpse of his face; he is a compassionate ghost."

"You move it!"

"What if he bites me?"

"He's got the god damn bone doesn't he?"

"Okay I will move it if you promise to feed him; I damn near lost a hand the last salmon steak."

"Alright on the count of three...."

"One..."

Force me into oblivion with a whiff of roses and spare me the number of digits I was forced to smell that shit.

"Two......"

That man must of been the size of a hockey net; anybody who pucked him deserves the ice rink for a playground.

"Wait! Panty!!"

This is their nickname for me when I am listless as a pair hanging from a laundry wire across the balcony of a French maid.

"Yes?"

"Pay attention please..."

I wonder what infatuated him to do such a thing; whatever or whomever must be worth a damn or at least a moment of clarity.

"He did it for you! Three!"

Cautiously amongst my chuckles a silly stratus grey finger surely lifts the sand castle's door to uncover a prince.

"I will stay..."

Shaking their heads is a pair of parrots without the shoulder of a pirate to lean.

"Where is the kitty?"

"Christ he's asking about the cat again..."

"Well he had to leave there somehow."

"Maybe we should just get him a damn house cat."

"I am not cleaning up after it besides that I'm allergic."

"What kind of kitty do you want?"

"The one that is watching me on the screen."

"Alright I'll feed him the next round but only if I get to wear gloves."

Cold People

I do believe I killed her; I am convinced of an accidental mishap, result of impulse previously unaware. I will be damned if this is finality; guilt is an emotion, I know the word, I am learning the definition. I can be taught.

I cannot recall where I first saw her; more than accepting of my presence is the temple I sought refuge. Defamation of the sea, volume of denial; thus my reasoning for the happening. Recklessly endangering what I left behind further down the mathematical number line we exist as negativity of a mercury valve erect under a swollen sensory projection, the taste of another man's tongue; she refused many an occasion with static electricity. Mane of red shadows forsaken by sun lifting straight from a tingling sensation; rejection is a difficult process. Shock stings his lips as flesh of frosty chrysanthemum reaches for pollen inside icicle ridden tulips; condensation forms underneath eyelids dreaming of wolves. Persistence weakened me; she chose surrender as I battled progressively into the decline of personal discretion. This sacrifice is my stone hedge alter for symbolic passage; she no longer desires the torment of instinct. I gaze upon her for an indefinite moment, the amount which determines such is unknown to any of us; I cannot apologize. I am sorry beyond any performance written for blazing eyes. From this contemplation a cycle touches the cold figure; my mind is matter for science to investigate without evidence of intention other than a dead woman inside a morgue.

"Is it over?"

"No...now we must face our faces..."

"How many are there?"

"We will need to find out."

"Somebody is after us; we are no longer the hunters."

"We will not be prey either; I rather not be feasted upon."

"I feel discarded by the self I should of known better."

"Regardless we are the result of our actions."

"I know where we are somehow..."

"As do I; how does this involve us?"

"I am not sure but we are tossed into the situation."

"Do we attempt resolution?"

"We must be the resolution."

"We must be aware of whom we left behind as we tried to escape our own self."

"We should of known such is impossible."

"I still cannot remember what occurred..."

"We do not want to remember."

Prior to the elliptical trance of watching one's self, we hastily gathered masks for a show; behind the curtains is where we hid for the duration caught inside what we knowingly dramatized, a forgotten play as we ran away from folk implosion. Marked hands display society's constructed delusion tracking our disappearance act; thus is the trap. We swayed from the medium of interpretation into boundaries of foul perception.

"There are no wolves here."

"There are no bobcats either."

"I cannot recall how we arrived."

"We will when we realize we are no longer here."

"When will that be?"

"When we are not together."

"I cannot be without you."

"Nor can I..."

"Who will be there for me?"

"I am not sure."

"Even if I am surrounded by adoration I will search for your face in the crowd; I will not be able to enjoy or feel any pleasure without you the same."

"For me as well..."

"Will there be a wolf there for me?"

"You would not go there if none; will there be a bobcat there for me?"

"Your heart is where they roam."

"Bobcats and wolves share the land."

"Distance is a barrier..."

"If you experience alike to me will we be together even without each other's presence?"

"Either that or we will be discontent forever."

"We should always be able to find one another."

"Those that watch will not permit this to happen while they fear our companionship."

"Their fear is illogical as their vision."

"While their eyes see what they choose we will be lost in the perception."

"However long the moment..."

"However short is eternity?"

"Damn..."

"Will we ever figure this out?"

"When somebody figures us out..."

"Who will they be?"

"The part of ourselves we do not face."

"I miss the wolves."

"I miss the bobcats."

"I miss the way he looks when I go to see him. I miss his blue eyes and pink nose."

"I miss the way he embraces me with his fur. I miss his brown eyes and porridge nose."

"Who will understand us enough to bear with our confusion?"

"Anybody who is willing to read us as a book."

Why Not

"Is it really you?"

A brown hierarchy of construction evacuates every single being except for a child who stares into the darkness of a triangular portion without lit stained glass to view the possibilities.

"Ssshhh.....he's attempting to communicate."

Little one pours wine from the communion blood of Jesus into a gold plated flute adorned with a black cross; the gulp sound astonishes us both.

"He's amazing..."

"I don't know if that is the proper word. He's drunk...."

Running around the pews is a tipsy pair of school shorts with suspenders reciting Edgar Allan Poe; his chosen exerts are quoted from The Raven.

"Nevermore!"

"Shall we intervene..."

"As apparitions we are with little entertainment."

"We shall not intervene."

"Nameless here for evermore!"

My ghastly twin knocks on the podium with an object found on the floor.

"I believe that is his slingshot."

"I wonder who he pelts."

This child must be gifted with a present from devilish ghouls; he seems to understand our inquiries with the contribution of nimble speech.

"The preacher's ass..."

I sincerely missed him; our companionship is the transcendentalism of theoretical manhood.

"I enjoy being with you."

"As do I..."

"We must not tell a soul."

"They already know..."

"Dearest me..."

"You are dear to me."

We watch a prostitute den located within an exclusive restaurant which caters to men nameless of political deviance; these are picky customers for a slim feast.

"Yeah well the old hag won't give a damn if I get me wig tuft every full moon! She's too busy sorting out me mess I left on the desk, finances damned as hell...."

"Aw shut your trap we're going to give you a good time! Just relax...."

I suppose if we had digestive systems these would be a funk of technicalities; we knew of such happenings without direct experience, now sensed with an extra cognitive mechanism we confirm our worst misery to be continuing with every hint we gather for the completion of our demise.

"I miss her...."

"I miss yours...."

"The reason I come...."

"Same for me as well."

"Suppose we never see them again."

"We will in our dreams."

"I do not want to dream anymore."

"Nor do I but we must to achieve our goal."

"My goal is you."

"For me is you however for us to attain this achievement of unified experience we must complete that which we left incomplete."

"Then we are incomplete."

"Yes...."

Two shattered mirrors gesture encounters of sorrow every sore we tend; the shards cut our fingers while we search for the geometric shapes of our image to contort a person. We abandon the hunt for surrender of mischief; we are no longer amused by our living subjects.

"Your hand is a cool notion; can you put it on my forehead. I am in a spell of anguish."

"I shall if you put yours to the back of mine; I am feverish."

"Fuck's sake my feet are swollen from that last walk."

"My belly is growling; the thought of food makes me slightly ill at the moment."

Our reflection is without perception; the people we see are sorted amongst a hazy description. This is the persistence of our crankiness as we lament past lives.

"At least I may bitch in your presence. I cannot do that with anyone else."

"Yes you are the only one I desire to witness a dying pigeon."

We are unwanted guests every residence we visit. Discovery is incidental of recovery while we come to a solemn agreement.

"They are out there...."

"We know this; we contributed to the offspring of an ego thus altered by our personal customization. We observed the process thoroughly from the white coat himself."

"Absolutely therefore we must act as we exist."

"Possession....."

"Yes...."

"Are we demons?"

"Bloody hell why not?"

Our laughter defies legitimacy of sound.

Rolf

I know not where I am; Neptune is the planet I discover within my vision, I plan on the orbs to be my destination, there are two heavenly bodies looking in my direction. Floating above the orbital trance is a cloud of Okinawa beach sand raining fluffy hair over a nose I feel softly plunged into my cheek; this universe has lips and galaxies to kiss.

"Rolf you don't know what that does to me..."

"You don't know what it does to me!"

Our enjoyment is missing the exclamation mark at the end of a pleasurable sentence; I suppose they are watching from a distance. We think of them in silence while a moment is sifting inside the bustier of a glass vessel; once her bottom is full the top will be where we must search for one another. This feeling is nearing closer to our experience as we both fade into a surreal meeting for a farewell into real nightmares which seem never ending.

"I always wanted these..."

"Me too..."

"I always wanted that..."

"For you...."

"What did you name them?"

"Kama and Tantra...."

"I like that...."

"What did you name him?"

"Sutra...."

"He likes that...."

Our kisses are contemplative, wary of pauses, deadly, and nervous of a ticking we both hear through our guardian's quietness. This sorrow must be placed aside in a book for understanding while we savor what little is left of the separation clock.

"I think we got to go now!"

They are uniquely humorous for both of us to observe; their earnestness is innocence in which flowers form while their wickedness bandages wings of a bat learning to fly.

Rolf does not want to fight, his arms empty of me while walking out the door; maybe I should not of looked at him in such a way, my black lace bra enclosure must of suffered a quick death.

"I can't go yet they need me...."

"They do...."

Outside the passageway Brad and Cindy unanimously agree....

"We can spare a few more notches on the thing!"

I desire the whole damned contraption to be winded into it's gears for a finale. Although if any more of my necessary lingerie pieces end in the same grave I might need to invent something simplified perhaps a button trigger or switch for removal; he cannot walkabout with a fly constantly open for business either, we both need to recollect for civilization.

"Okay now we definitely got to go!"

We expected this much; we surrender for victory whenever that may be is the test of eternity.

"We will not see each other again will we?"

"We won't be able to be together......?"

"Not like this....."

Brad and Cindy will be joining us indefinitely without gracing our presence; they both agreed to inhale the stench of roses and taste the razor blade of caviar to inquire of our existence, somewhat a naive notion as ours was presumptuous of their intention.

"I will find you no matter what it takes..."

"I will do everything for you."

"I will do the same."

"I will be found only by you."

"I won't rest until I am with you again."

"I won't sleep until I lay with you."

Widow Maker

"How did your husband die?"

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Isn't that why you wear black?"

Sorrow has no color; there is no proper attire for death. I am wearing nothing at all not even flesh. Verda is a mylar suit from head to toe with a plexi glass shield for a face; this spares contemplation of my eyes the thought of her appearance. Chasity is a black Hugo Boss double breasted suit coat over her shoulders exposing a sliver of white lace teddy corset matching below the waist cincher suspended with vinyl straps, white high knee stockings which slip without a garter belt and Nike Air Force One sneakers.

"I wear black for you..."

"Why for me?"

"Why not for you?"

Various fetish clad vinyl women strip the handsome man naked.

"I want you to meet somebody..."

"Brad I am in an awful mood; I shan't be much for company."

"You will like him..."

"Him?"

"Yes, he's got sandy blonde wild hair and blue..."

"I'm ready where is he?"

Singing through the basement of a morose mansion covered in pine fir falling through gutless gutters is a voice dark as abysmal ocean volcanoes. His nudity is not shame rather humility for sanity's sake; he stands with designer clothing from the depths of formation. Kissing You is the ballad, object of affection dead, I am witness, astonishing women, Chasity shaking her head gesturing extreme disapproval, Verda greener than ever.

"Oni put me down!"

"Zyna I am not done yet!"

"What is the purpose of you spinning me around above your head?"

"I am proving my strength!"

"I am about to prove your weakness!"

Pair of gray UGG shearling suede boots flattens the snow under my curious muscular demonstration.

"Aren't you the slightest bit insecure about your armpits?"

"What about them?"

"You do get a tad musky when you do things like that..."

"I do?"

Lifting up my massive guns of mini weaponry I thoroughly examine the white tee angles of my appendages; just a little damp, I do not understand what she is concerned about....

"Kat! Come on you're going to mess up his pants and you know we got to shoot this thing before the alley opens for the awards ceremony...."

"Save me!"

"I am not done yet..."

My sides are aching from tremors of the quickest digits on a calculator; this equation is about to burst my pot leaf boxer shorts through the back of these Evisu jeans I must return to Bloomingdale's before the mannequin realizes it's genitalia showcases exhibition of ambiguous plastic people parts; he is next to a lady in Anna Sui formal, she might be offended.

"I'm weak..."

"I'm done..."

"You look beautiful in your Alexia Admor sequin royal asymmetrical mini...."

"Was it necessary to pick the one in the case reserved for VIP customers?"

"Yes..."

"You do not know how I feel wearing this..."

"You should feel gorgeous; you look incredible..."

"You can't touch me anymore. This needs to go back just as we got it and you need to stop charming me into predicaments such as this..."

"This is what we must finish before we join the audience."

"We will be crawling won't we?"

"Yeah..."

"Crawl and beg for your wife! Maybe then I will reconsider!"

Voulez is a red furn with Verda spikes; she is the ringleader of plastic pussy porpoises jumping about outside a pool of liquid evaporation which churns bubbles from a concrete gap; tube elbows from sink to seat connected with copper conductive wires resembling penny knuckles coils each white underground pump mazing to a hideous galvanized steel engine labyrinth with a single cubed exhaust facing a vacuum which ports steam for a sauna inside the house.

"I want to see you two together. This is not how I wanted to see it happen...."

Chasity is looking at me; nobody else is paying her much attention, everyone writes her off the list of awareness, how foolish I think to myself as I speak for possibilities endless of beginnings.

"Will you wear black for us so we know it is you?"

"Yes I will......I will be black as night for you and your husband."

"Pantera this is Rolf..."

Brad is overjoyed; neither of us ever saw this side of him, always the petrified tree without branches in the darkest cemetery corner. He is gazing back to forth for the wolf and panther to perform an action we are contemplating deeply.

"Will you just kiss already!"

Cindy is a giggle which possessed the form of woman; she is a dove watching lovers under her tree constipating a cynic in bowels of seeds. They will repeat words without emotion from the imitation of social sexuality for the mindless show of bird cages while shit falls on their heads.

"I want to see you two kiss; is that your favorite thing ever?"

"Yes..."

"Tell them why..."

"Her lips are my immortal; our kiss is eternity."

"That's enough, into the water; if you will not crawl then dive in..."

"Don't crawl, she's doesn't want you to do that and it won't bring her back. When you wake up in the river do not go into the forest! Walk down the path on the other side."

"What is in the forest?"

"Verda will find out for you!"

"And how will I do that?"

"With this..."

Gun shots vary in range of decibel; this particular pop is muffled by a pair of bloody bloomers.

"Did you have to put the bullets underneath the damn shitter?"

Her aim is Sagittarius' dark half; not anyone is his cheer this merry go round. Chasity is staring into space purposely averting her eyes from the man placing his foot across the line of reasonable doubt.

"You gotta do what you gotta do know what I mean? You really don't got a choice anyways......neither did she. There's no bullets left for me."

Neptune speaks with his head above water....

"Run and we will be at the finish line....."

Wisdom of the virgin is her indifference for that which we mourn without considering circumstance or situation of what is the becoming of man.

"The money is in the drawer underneath the left sink where you retire after the stage performance..."

"If you can call it that....I knew there was something in there....you better get yourself a dress to wear for your husband...."

Rolf and I are tangled in our clothing, his pants are stubborn buttons in my willing fingers, the zipper is a set of teeth mocking my attempt, we are stepping on his trouser legs while his arm is somewhere inside the hollow back of my shirt, we both fall slowly which must of concerned the duet for a look.

"You guys need to be dressed for the most part. We are running the man's clock...."

"I need to take off his pants..."

"I need to take off her shirt..."

"Okay this is how you will do this properly. Rolf you need to step back with your arms at your side. Pantera you do the same...."

The directions are easy to follow except I desire his body for a map.

"Now Rolf undo your pants; Pantera pull off your shirt. On the count of three you may join again."

"One..."

Numbers always catch me on the line when I want to get to the finish.

"Two..."

The wait is a faint I nourished.

"Three...."

We turn to see if Brad and Cindy are still there; another set is present, we understand these two to be outside of ourselves.

"Oni you're not strong because of all the tuna you eat or those things you do..."

"What makes me strong?"

"Your ticklishness...."

"You're not beautiful because of all that make up and dressing up....."

"What makes me beautiful?"

"Your strength..."

Liquid Lock

Bradley is a familiar stranger who knows me from the inside out quite literally; this man watches me fall apart as he is unable to put me together we analyze the pieces enough to determine which might fit if we are able to stay for a moment inside the dream we are caught. I am a nomad of the unseen scape; he is the navigator to a mirage we desire to touch as reality.

"You adore me..."

Smile is all I see; I know he does.

"I adore you too..."

"You're not mad at me anymore?"

"I'm mad for us."

Holding hands through a sectioned corridor I am looking into his eyes for my perception; he is the guide into the city I am without a name or correspondence. Light phases without sustenance dimensionally stream through what is not quite a physicality; pitches of auditory skyscrapers cause him to break into knees upon the waves of floor as I cuff his ears from the anguish of sonar. My admiration for him is acceptance of this formation only he can behold; I assure him this sound is my essence which he now understands with the intellect of creation.

"This is not a dream."

"I often wonder how it is I never saw what is made before me as we deemed the possibilities endless..."

"That is a dream."

"You are found in my sleep...."

"As you walk...."

"I am constantly searching...."

"I wonder if we will ever be feet."

"Our senses are caught inside a translucent web."

"The sound...."

"Yes...."

"If you are able to become one with the source can you bring me back?"

"If I am one with the source I will be a bat."

"Interesting....you look like one...."

"I will take that as a compliment."

"How do I return?"

"With our blood...."

"I don't want it."

"You don't have a choice; nobody does...."

"I won't take it."

"It will be a river for everyone."

"I won't swim in it."

"The boat we all ride will float upon the stream."

"I will be stuck then..."

"Until we cross over..."

"Will it cause you pain?"

"No....we are the appearance of that which exists; the presence of that which is nonexistent."

"They manipulate the structure of sound with a graph...."

"Similar to radar used in warfare I assume; I do not fight although I will talk a lot of shit."

"You will be here when I come back?"

"I will always be here no matter what."

"Promise...."

"I am without choice........yes...."

Opening a vault into plasma canals similar to silicone yet fluidity suspends particles of electricity; this is the ghost in the machine. Without questioning his motive I am now his muse of intelligence; the travel no longer causes him vertigo as we close the lids of conception to blink a realm I am without the manipulation of my body for the delight of sinister worlds. This is the place I recognize in the mirror; my vanity does not suffer here.

"I wanted you to see the way you look before we close the door."

"I do not desire to be caught in the hallway anymore...."

"I don't either...."

"We will live in theirs...."

"Yes..."

"I will be quite noticeable...."

"Yeah......."

"I will be tortured..."

"We will all be with you."

"I will be extremely pissed off..."

"We will all be with you."

"How do we break through the illusion?"

"Keeping it real..."

Chasity

Western Europe is the same veranda; Ireland can be seen from this shore whichever it maybe I am unaware. His wife must be here....

Fog is the essence I deviate; I forget which I am. Gravity does not exist only in theory; floating is a circular elliptical motion unlike an apple falling on a man's head. I do wish somebody would join me; people screaming while trampling their neighbors is not quite as entertaining without another to witness. Where is he? I suppose he is in the same molecular mayhem at another location nearby; I plan on finding him, together we will scare the shit out of larger crowds for the hell of our demons.

Mercy me said Marvin Gaye but he never saw anything like this. I might be out of place in this place watching another man's wife but the innocence of spies is the glory of espionage. The woman of swamp resurrection, I call her Verda Voulez, provided a Hugo Boss black double to the chest of buttons I need to touch badly else I will be this puddle of mist on the floor for a limitless volume of humid steam I must of contributed to this atmospheric creation tis me sighing for the black silk shirt underneath contrasting black to white abstract directional tie I might be able to foreplay if I could somehow get out of this compound of scientific distress.

"Did you hear that?"

Verda is greener than the Douglas Fir forest hedge wrapped around this Greek imitation; statue of a woman in toga exposes her left breast without a nipple, this amuses me for the artistry of Renaissance is human anatomy as educational purposes of course.

"Did you laugh?"

Excuse me the gal is lacking her tweaker pardon my literal slang with obvious connotation.

"No..."

His straight lip is shy of a bottom juicy pink ledge I wish to climb with a tongue I am sprinting a search with the agility of a fox from the hunt, damn I missed the trumpet, I am about to be a teenager's muff.

"I know I heard something..."

Fucking cunt is what I want to say; now I realize the moment is not proper for the physicality of a becoming me which will only be a pissed can in the pub around the corner from a parliament of wigs, not quite as entertaining as hers however I cannot stop giggling.

"Maybe it was a fox..."

"Yeah she's definitely that..."

If I knock over the girl without tips for tits and topple the wicked witch of the breast do I get to rescue the man? I will melt all over him; as the ice water slides our feet across the thin marbled floor through the door, a Bentley will await for a getaway car; if only the ground was not cracked, the car was not American, and if I had kicks I would do just that through the walls.

"They will fill her with bullets anyways..."

Swamp Voulez swings to her left from the words spoken to face a pistol in between her nose and cheeks; this particular region doth leave a human with half a profile still breathing.

"Not if I hold the gun."

This is not our style; since metal pop is not fashionable the capsules lay underneath the house cat's litter box. Anybody who goes there looking for violence is in for a surprise.

"If you shoot me I will not tell you about her..."

"Who?"

She does not interest my interests; I am leaving. If I can take my eyes off this handsome man in funeral attire of celebration I might be able to wisp into another contemplation elsewhere perhaps in the guest bathroom where a woman is hind leg around the sink screwing Verda's boyfriend; surely I am wanted at other locations besides the one my insecurity is found.

"She has long dark hair, dark eyes, pout red lips, and is wearing lingerie..."

White lace attracts dust underneath a lamp oddly reminding me of a phallus without proportion....I laugh again....

"Did you hear that?"

"Tell me more about her..."

Earl Grey tea feline streaked with orangeade is cooing my directional stride; I can feel his silky coat which reminds me of avocado flesh, I was previously unaware until I reminisce to write. As I turn back for a final dramatic exit I am a pair of sapphire waterfalls accompanied with the hollow tap of half a ring strike without powder to ignite. I am Sorrow The Watcher.

"She's waiting for you in the upstairs bedroom..."

"Let's go..."

I am already there; this must be a comedic interpretation of a girlie magazine. Maybe I am a bitch as mouths often form this sound when I say such things out loud. For this curse there is a man who visibly agrees as he bends over neatly tucking in his jacket while a polite urge of chuckles remains a hidden mannerism; she does not interest his interests.

"He's crazy I do not want him."

"I just wanted to see this..."

I did as well; he is adorable, I may need to release this reservation I persist to keep me in a book without pages, I want him to read me. I must of known him from another mind I disconnected as a telephone line for a home I dream to be ours and nightmare to be without.

"That was the last straw."

"No more hay? Horses need to eat too!"

Verda punches him across the chin; Voulez is now a splotch with splash of red scars on the "middle century" projection of furniture. Might of been the mysterious loose board from the hastily constructed crown molding or the pair of studded cufflings tight in between the fingers of his fist, whichever, whatever, whenever, we forget there is a doily on the bed watching the mess of paint.

"You must really miss her. I'm sure she's got to be around somewhere. They're not all that bad; they just want her to stop doing that thing she does. I don't got a problem with her. I want to meet her one of these days. Maybe we could go out and have a couple of drinks. She sounds like a girl's girl you know what I mean? You probably know all her friends. They probably do a lot of things together...."

"You're American..."

"I'm from Brooklyn..."

"Do you want to go back home?"

"I can't I need the money I did this to pay for grad school. I won't get paid until the job is finished."

"What is the work?"

"I mean come on look at me! What do you think?"

"I am your job..."

"Yeah..."

Dearest me......as they discuss the legalization of prostitution Verda Voulez cleans herself with a garment from one of the drawers; appears to be bloomers which causes me to laugh again...

"You're not hearing things you know!"

The handsome man is quiet with a mysterious wish on his face; genies come in all shapes and forms, I might be able to fit in the cognac bottle if it is empty.

"Then what is that sound?"

"It's his husband! No shit come on you think you can just get rid of people....It's not that easy you know! This is unfinished business and you got no deal! I don't even want the fucking money anymore! You can shove it up your green ass! I'm out of here!"

"She's gone..."

"Not as much as you. I don't even think you know what you did that's the big problem but you're going to find out sooner or later. Nobody deserves that........not even you!"

"He will never see her again!"

"Don't be so sure about that."

"How can you be so sure he will!"

"She's standing right over there next to the mirror!"

I am...

"I do not see anything..."

"Except for your ugliness......I know what she looks like and I'm going to find her."

"What does she look like?"

Verda is laughing the cowl of a cape the avenger wears in his last comic book.

"She's got long curly hair to her toosh, chocolate beamers, a street fighter's nose, Jamaican lips, dimples like a cutie the ladies in Middle Town pinch, and she's the size of a Madtown stop signal. Damn she would of liked it where I come from. Lots of bodegas, islanders, fights, cocoa butter, and grannies to love her....damn I wish I would of known her!"

I adore her even if she is a fold inside of a blacklisted magazine.

"I mean you can't miss her she's right there for fuck's sake!"

Collapsing in a flat position the handsome man is grief belonging to the crack of marble above the earth; Chasity, the woman in white lace, cusps a glass of water which she splashes on his forehead, this makes us both giggle while his big blue eyes make me more visible for virgin eyes.

"She's still here......you just got to get to her that's all........"

"I'll do anything to be with her again."

Verda is twirling a string through her palms which is the shade of crimson, wrapping the coil into a spring accordion configuration tensioning back and forth; Chasity smiles sweet as cavities for the green hex enticing her to leave the room.

"This is what is left of her.....one of many....."

She exits in an echo of throat jolts disguised as laughter.

"That's not really what you think it is......I hid the real ones......I'll tell you where if I get to meet your wife. I did it for her and I guess I did for you too. You're alright you know?! Well you should know. Most guys would of...."

"If I die do I get to see her again?"

"Nope........she won't be down with that. If you stay she will come back. That's the only way.....you just got to have faith."

"I do not believe in anything...."

"Believing in something is not faith."

"Then what is it?"

"Faith is knowing inside yourself without a doubt. If you got that then you got your wife."

"I believe you..."

"I thought you didn't believe in anything!"

"You are not any thing. You are a person."

Missing Somebody

Everybody is missing somebody; we all know this without a thought. You might be missing me while I secretly miss you; we are all missing out it seems.

Something is attached to my head whether they took it off or not my brain is infiltrated and effected. I am trying my best to get away from him; he follows me wherever I am, wherever I walk, wherever I run. Thoughts of my own evade personal discretion as I cannot catch myself doing anything. Nobody owns me; nobody owns you. We belong to each other; mine in Olde English means intimacy of thine, the body we wear is the body shared as one alike.

"You will do all of this for him!?!"

"Yes I will do all for him always."

Color of yellow fluid sickens me in a glass vile the length of my neck width of a vascular artery.

"The wisdom of surrender is to understand the battle is not for pride but for your lover."

"Who is my lover?"

"The victor..."

Black is the traveler mistaken for fear as many often rely on their sense of willingness to do as we ought not; this being the legend of Lucifer our youngest birth.

"Where does my name come from?"

"One who appears as light to deceive man..."

"Am I him?"

"You are the angel that fell from his kingdom to the darkness in which we abide."

"He is still there..."

"Yes...."

"Why?"

"Because we live in fear...."

Feelings overcome me while our Mighty joins the leaves rustling amongst cemetery trees; these emotions I never knew. The tears from my twin a nightmare in the midst of dreams, the pain is unbearable for the man I stare in the mirror, my vanity. Breaking through walls without seams I am inside the room of masks none of which include me; you see the face I do not see.

"Do you know him? The wolf with blue eyes?"

"Lady you got to calm down, it's the city, madness all around!"

"Am I dreaming? What is time?"

"You make me feel that way Miss....I don't know when I look at you....I don't know about time....I don't know what I'm doing here anymore."

"Why do you treat me as such? Am I a spectacle?"

"Never seen a ghost before that's all..."

"My touch silences you..."

"You're cold as ice..."

Who is this man standing above me with a mace in his hand? What is it that laid me on my back?

"I know now what you are..."

"You know not what is now; you know not what is in your hand."

"What?"

"Now who is on the ground?"

Times Square switches illusion for this night to unfold the sheets on death's bed.

"How come you look like that lady on the big screen?"

"How did you know she was there?"

"I noticed when I saw your hair...."

"Excuse me miss..."

"Yes..."

"You look just like the lady I saw on the cover of a magazine..."

"I do....?"

"Must be going crazy..."

"Maybe crazy is not the proper description..."

"Then what is?"

"Madness within logic..."

Crowds hover around that which appears to be a woman in handcuffs confessing a crime.

"Lady what did you do?"

"You do not know why you arrest me?"

"No! You told us to!"

"I punched that man over there..."

"That guy who dropped the gun?"

"Yes!"

"Then you did us a favor! We're letting you go!"

Throwing stones is a village gathering; these feel to be a thud sound.

"Whore!"

"Who do I affair?"

"Not anyone in this place!"

"Then you do not know me at all."

Stones fall....

"Why are you here? What is it you wear?"

"Tis a garment made of Bible covers. I am here for your bindings; that which induces this state of mind."

"You can have all the god damned religious books you want. We are done with the chastisement of man."

Where am I? His wife must be close by; I care not for a map, I will follow her anywhere. Eternity will meet me here as I stand, guard of the ultimatum without a weapon I am; for whom may come I give myself to them for a glimpse of the woman, I am determined to be her man. Maybe this is a dream, I know not reality, I know not how I am breathless of flesh, I came here for her and I shall not leave without a kiss. If this be too much woe for those who watch to undress may I offer you my skin for the garments you wish? If this is not enough my guts will be a plate; gluttony is a gorge I am suffering for dessert. Seven deadly sins testament for every person except for those who commit; lest we forget we are the tablet that which is written. I am here without an invitation yet called by name, whichever that may be, bitch or dead man. The wolf is whom I seek; I am his panther. We reside in the wilderness of the hunter, they come to your home with necks marked with fanged dentals; will you host their presence or recognize the devil? Priests will join the feast if they do not consume the entire table; else we will excuse their behavior with excessive religious banter. I am what I am whether carcass or living man. I am who I am whether televised or radio sound. You know me better than I know myself.