Parallel Drift

Every moment parallels another without knowingly intersecting. Morning is night while afternoon may touch noon onto dawn greying dusk til darkness. The result of my last destination or the beginning of what I need to understand before being tossed again.

Expectation of a routine differs desire within wearing down inclination into inhibition; change cannot occur while blinded by frustration. Night is my protection for an ongoing battle against the invisible enemy penetrating what is left of me.

She is the orchestra which embodies the symphony guiding my motionless travel instinctively. She becomes still as intermission rests upon intellectual disharmony.

Wonder is a thought of whispering words; fantasy is a dream for a body pieced together from my ghost who gazes the mirror.

Temples adorn straining connections of hollowed calcium friction, admittance for those seeking a final garment as remembrance transcends appearance. Renewal of inner proportions begins immediately as the previous closure happened abruptly.

She shares the essence forming creation from within as this separateness fades into illusion of sleeping dreams which never awaken, the watcher of passing litanies from desperate fingers.

Senses born of pain beget torture until the last regeneration of sun reflecting curls masking Leo's chamber of regret bids the moon another wallow for satisfaction amongst Olympus' hosts and hostesses. Blood is the fragrant depiction of twirling tyranny potent of promiscuous deadliness as hunting season begins. Crimson is the rainbow shade narrowing winding ropes wrapped inside twine free falling vines fruiting sweet grapes ripening sour berries into wine. Does she drink of this tree? Does the willow of bark descend into treacherous ravines? Twins of prophecy sided on a branch may never notice each another upon first or second glance; to look at the self is an elliptical trance.

Knowledge taught of education now learning something else; teachers individual trade is a market of nonsense. Many doctrines earn purchased stamps of approval; students miss the truth hidden from written principles.

Regret is the return of a day born of night's swollen womb; afflicted architects free style construction as we struggle to arise anew.

Scrambled Creation

How does memory sift through creases of a frozen skull into ghost formations? I try to routinely function without obsessing conspiracies. How do I not lay with whom I desire sharing the bed of eternity?

Shame from attachment sent us spiraling outside physical nature; our bodies are shells hosting dispersed pieces of an ego we never let go.

We befriend the nomads of forbidden earth for the discrepancy of will. We choose where to go and where not to go; we choose trust which is never what we believe. Faith is blinded by the extremity of social obligation. Mistakes collide; we desire resolution. Maybe a fool can provide closure for bones caked with the blood of sorrow.

Abandoning sense rehabilitates the void, never to be born and never to die; appearance of growing skin while experiencing woe of a worldly name is confusion which shall not rest inside a sealed grave.

Trading moments uncovers misery previously not contemplated thoroughly; discovery is a painful awakening while discretion sleeps inside limitless imagination and misguided illusions.

Anger is an unacceptable emotion which begets revenge and acts of misinterpretation.

Suspicion arouses delusional captivation as the mind scatters amongst a field of dying roses; not a single petal embodies the aroma of enchantment and the scent of death lingers.

Chastisement of reality hypnotizes the horizon of life. Control reveals itself; what we think is what we never know.

Frozen

Dreams distinguish the doer otherwise terminal for the brain.

A man crosses my path, familiar appearance and demeanor weathered by storms; such a personality recovers lost hands grasping decomposition.

My wandering circles foolishness I wish not to explore. This ending is a beginning I am unprepared. The dream is neither known or unknown ever present desiring not to return for bleakness recycling another phase.

Officer of military provisions, prison guard, clergyman, such uniforms do not adorn him this journey. Look of accomplishing a final physical feat grasps his lungs; black air disguised as white. Sorrow is the plague we suffer; do we speak or silently understand the same burden ultimately unknown lest we experience what each man or woman does? Weight falls from his determined spirit, pounds accumulated from a wish the milk genie could not fulfill; a principle worn by individual preference. Thus a relief for the man marked for deeds never committed by heart or mind; I realize we never understood each other's misery, only the same pain at a glance.

Snow lines the lashes of my sleep; glaciers form underneath bloody wounds.

I cannot mirror second experience; I barely stay awake. I float alongside streams and rivers of inadequate design; out of body, out of mind.

Woman on the Ledge

My memory reels a roll for independent underground theatre. Simultaneous view of vapor streets blanket my selfish regret; how quickly the present comes undone.

Condemnation of brooding insecurities shuns this woman I informally address; I desire absolute devotion to intoxicate my vitality. My body sinks into black leather skin; steel spike puncturing heels transverse a nervous bubbling spinal cord, vein circulation is a motionless pose rendering me reclusive.

I desperately collect dispersing treasures from the lion's den; kingdoms often fall to ruins.

Perhaps I should not wrap around her arm as red stripes to a child's aesthetic peppermint candy cane illusion too sweet to be without cavities; black hole suction of the universe we escape just to be together.

"Jump! We want to see it! Yeah!"

"Is that really what you want? You want my blood? What do you know of blood or do you always secrete without thought?"

Abstract impressionist visionary searches for sanity as the mind entangles a world's delusion until every membrane sours rotten; I choose a skyscraper ledge to balance fear and hopelessness, a scale without median. Scattering feet is a cognitive response my senses know of him often juggling situations inside transparent snow globes.

"You always look away when you should be listening.......where do you go when you are here?"

"I feel as though my body is present but my thoughts are in somebody else."

Eyes of the eternal sea find me, sand washes away sediment; no man is an island but a woman can be a desert no adventurer dare explore.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

We may presume passion to be chemical reaction of heat from flesh bound by an act of skin yet never reach ecstasy of awareness beyond touch. Led by infatuation of underwater dragon hums the deeper we dive the further we find ourselves inside unknown earth dreaming another shore.

Obsession varies degrees of a temperature gauge; there is a stopping point we must commit. Passing through a busy highway is not enough attention for traffic.

We die in each other's arms to find each other again; now I am without her arms. Mysteriously the walking dead lives amongst the living dead to walk alone. Confusion is a map I desperately piece together; I am lost despondency.

A woman without words is a force of nature which cannot be led astray without destruction; will this be final wisdom for feminine essence, the form left behind from an urgent flee to escape?

Do pads of heel upon toe still fascinate smooth block legions above cemetery jokers desiring purification from red droplets of my lips?