Monopoly

Memory momentarily mimics my existence in messages made by bats.

Maybe formation is what they seek in this reality.

I do not enjoy nor know the pleasure of any; I am aware of the drama.

No way of knowing as I look at another me disillusioning the imagery of a self lost in between the seams; how many to be stitched for this garment, I must be delusional beyond a mad man's writings.

I desired so much more; must of been another me similar to the ego which spread like a disease.

Kisses never enough as each lasted only for the length of a dream I might of been; a chance if eternity permits a glimpse the kiss will never end as I am black wings the sky being she if she only knew. Surely she must be knowledgeable, she must feel each dark body aligning as the internal structure of her external presence, how does she see anything, blindness comes as shape to sound of objects with people which appear as things some being flesh, others partly while most just barely the appearance of this.

I desire more; must be me with an ego worse than a disease if spread to many men each of which a sickness surely must defeat their own purpose as I wish to cure my illness.

"Communication....."

"What do you mean?"

"Technology......"

"Technological communication is frequency in the form of waves."

"That is how she sees, that is how she hears...."

"Frequency begets her senses, is that what you think?"

"I know through science...."

"You made her a science in an attempt to know her; you did this to her Beau as well?"

"Both are aware through the band which they are set."

"You wish to listen to them as a radio, watch them like television; does it work for you?"

"No not really..."

"Then what is the purpose?"

"There is none I just want her to myself."

"She does not want you."

"How would you know?"

"I will make it clear...."

"You are not her, you are the appearance of her nightmare."

"You must be the nightmare and I am an appearance."

"You will not know the difference."

"I will remember this...."

"She will not know the difference."

"She will know me."

Insecurity of age overcomes stability; all around images of degradation invade her perceptive interests, she is infatuated, she is beyond obsessed. Suppose she forgets just for a moment that she is merely the image of human; will this change? Only the mirrored illusion to leave the trail of hints for me to follow sinking footsteps of my own regret, if only I understood then which is now as I still do not understand what it is to be complete; this must be her contemplation as I watch her, the drama of despair, is the act real? This I wonder....

"Our bodies look to be the aftermath of a war we cannot recall fighting..."

"I think we are victors of most of the battle. We still rage for the rest of our territory."

"What is our territory?"

"The field we live which is the body we wear."

"These bodies we wear currently may lose track as we keep failing to remember what happened to us...."

"We must of lived another man's sorrow....."

"We must be that which we do not understand..."

"If we experience then will we finally be of some understanding?"

"Should we be angry?"

"I am...."

"So am I...."

"I miss the way we were...."

"Did we change?"

"If our appearance changes then we wear the change."

"We will change garments again."

"I prefer clothing which is in between. This fits rather well..."

"I the same.......we cannot take it off."

"This is what somebody made..."

"A garment cannot be made without a model."

"We must be the product of a duet."

"Where is the music?"

"We dance with it."

"I do not hear sounds only the voices in my head."

"The voices are real. Not of our own but somehow connected...."

"Who speaks what we wish not to say?"

"We do in somebody else's dreams...."

"Which we dream as well...."

"I will miss you dearly...."

"I do not want to think of it...."

"I will think of you when I look at myself."

"I do that now."

"I will be only half of me without you."

"I will be a shell."

"I fear I need you."

"I need you."

"I adore you..."

"You are adorable..."

"I will not enjoy anyone or anything without you."

"I will not be a person without you."

"I am confused again..."

"I am the same..."

Role playing for psychological credibility is failing communication temporarily; thus if persistence becomes assurance all will be destruction as a battle without victims other than material possessions. Needless things rule our kingdom even split down the center for two halves of Gemini's face; grin to frown he cries, she smiles, he laughs, she screams, we wear the same emotion as we are the appearance from within.

We sit as pieces on the board game played opposite ways; our opposition is religion, social obligation, money for affection, insecurity of our own physical nature, emotional blasphemy, the drama which we lose our sense of self. We maybe on the same team mutably progressive as one movement however the distance makes us separate pieces searching for a medium.

I must tolerate the damnation of characters which portray not even a single show for the world as I am what I am without a role I shan't be a play.

She does bite by the way....

Nevertheless she does as she does not do as others do for her she nitpicks for choice of what to what not amongst the ego multiplication, she runs through the numbers; dreams come to her as possession while she mindlessly wears them for a moment to catch the hints. They urinate for her, stop in motion as she watches their feet in midair, gaze a mirror for her to see the confusion, she never knew a face to be her own, she only knows his face to be one she adores. This maybe an attempt to gather information for the provocation of what might of occurred; slow process not much learned except the fact there are many which were born of some other world she inquires of madness to uncover for her.

She desires my Beau.....

I am not jealous or even a bit challenged; I regard her admiration as my own.