Gone

Menagerie of spacious freedom included the bondage only the self I do not know clothes herself as fashion; she does miss hanging from the ceiling in leather straps hooked to chains. I myself did so in cages; she prefers suspension. Whatever else she will not divulge; as I am prudent she is not.

I came here to meet someone; everywhere I look is a meeting.

"Leo, how is the king of our jungle's disguise?"

Fingers twirl inside my confusion as curls which fall in DNA strands all about the exterior of a straight lipped man.

"Vic you know somebody is here waiting for you; don't be rude, who taught you such manners?"

Laughter chimes a harpsichord through the hollow enclosure; fuchsia tech glitter dread unlocked spits back with a cobra hood to acknowledge my promiscuity, is it really me?

"My baby boy needs more than a bed wiggle; what does he crave?"

Handsomeness is a description unspoken lightly for an atmosphere thicker than Adam's apple.

"You do not know what you delve until over your head."

Companion sinks with me little does he know how little we can be.

"Never get enough of this do you? For the better of me I should of known."

Jamaica woke next to my sleep as Kiki; I did know.

"She is sitting in the center of the whole if you can make it around the whirlpool."

Ruby is the gem, I am bounty of the ship. Pirates must of stared at me in disbelief.

Punishment bats her eyes for the house; obnoxious to me is the sound of characterization which is no act at all. These imitations of people must take themselves seriously; she is involved with her confusion as emotion. Madness will eat us both before we fork a plate. This behavior is detestable; we both disgust however a waste of energy is a waste of man. Wicked as I am if we came together the bitch unleashes, then and only then will there be an answer for the name. Otherwise annoyance is the crutch for the lame; they must consider themselves handicapped by now. There is no expression for the dislike we know to be them; we also know they instigate such for an intention bats wish not to entertain. Dark of inversion, cleaner than sterile bandages, our image is not made for them nor maintained for their routine.

"The center is where my heart is...."

"Mine too..."

"You know how I feel about her...."

"I know you feel about her."

"Soon you will know."

"Soon is not mercury..."

"Hermes is not a god."

"I need to know."

"I need you to know."

"We agree to disagree for now."

"I agree..."

"To disagree..."

"I agree..."

"Must we go round in a circle?"

"We are a circle; we will always go round!"

"Describe the feeling..."

"Death knows her not for me..."

"You will only know her through death."

"You the same!"

"We will die together."

"That I am certain."

"We will both know her..."

"When we die the moment."

"For now I will show you where she sits."

"I am lost without her..."

"I noticed..."

"You will know me soon."

"You the same."

Swirl of affection caught my stomach as stone stops a driving man; I am disconnection. Desire roams the spiral in a dizzy mental nausea as I am caught by my shoulder.

"We only meet when you are ill it seems."

"I am sick within....this you cannot cure."

"I know...."

"Why is that?"

"I am not sure; your heart is an organ but the beat is a woman."

"The organ belongs to you."

"The beat does not..."

Stumbling about in composure of charisma leaves me be; Katarzyna can only be found in my bloody sheets. She does not feel the same way, my object of admiration the alter ego I fame of defame; she bids her the inclination of instinct born of mankind as children which never separate. I give her this; I wish to give her me, she wishes alike from the milk genie, he is homogenizing the elixir of our dreams, we must be last on his list.

The drum is profound without a turntable to expose the bass of fluidity, pounding slow to a deafening echo I follow the sound.

Beautiful....

Beau is the prefix of the word which ends in full; a nickname, kiss of words, a sweet thing.

She adores her ring....

Blue as enchantment which brings forth the illusion of dreams I am chained to the ceiling in a cage. Sand of an hourglass initiates a whirlwind for this man the woman in the middle of my crimson talon filled with blood, twisting with veins; a falcon which searches for children through the blizzard is his name. Haya being his and Busa being mine; together Hayabusa flies for them.

"I can hear him from the other side."

Lucien is my luck, just as I greet benevolence, she is gone...