Oh Dear

This dream mystifies necessity as I look upon her face; crows shed their feathers to slick back her hair and topaz formed a sparkle for her nose. My sorrow is a heavy burden while she wonders how in hell did I get here.

Baxter is boasting a bravado of bogus brilliancy while we conduct our own personal unscientific ubiquitous ultimatum of unfortunate unbecoming.

"This is it....."

"Looks like a sheet of acid."

"What happens if we eat some?"

"Let's find out."

Our hysteria is a laboratory closet with a mop hanging slant dampness; we slide a bucket back and forth for boredom. Pictures of us lay about the top of a broken navy blue binder; critiquing each other's pose we exclaim to discover two beautiful women. Insecurity is doomsday while we sit against a cupboard to laugh at an unhinging door. Suddenly we are taken by an unknown trance of descending ancestry; inversion is an umbilical cord.

"This place is huge!"

"I didn't notice that before."

"This place is fucking gigantic!"

"I really need to start paying more attention."

"This shit is humongous!"

"This does not interest my interests."

"We need to add something to the sheet."

Christopher Columbus crashed into our craniums for a mental holiday while we instinctively remove droplets of crimson and amethyst. Emotions hue through our bloodstream; electric shortages surround the demented demolition deemed disambiguation. We are entertained by eternity and thoughts of meticulousness. Our discretion survives, we stand as twins, the room is alive, we discuss being dead, socialism and mischief, communism and currency, capitalism and comradely communions, marriage and sanctity, games and losers, boards and winners; retiring to cross legs upon a dissection table a beating heart reminds me to remember.

"Kevinya....."

"You can call me Kevin if you wish."

"Kevinya....."

"Uh huh......"

"Will you remember me?"

"Mmmm....hhhmmmm...."

"Will you look for me?"

"Uh huh......"

"Will you feel for me?"

"Mmmm....hhhmmmm...."

"I will think of you when I am most upset; you are my aesthetic."

A pinch of me is the cuff of Pharaoh's collarless oxford which is quarterly tucked on opposite ends. I turn to address his purposeless slop while he unbuttons pleated trousers. Slips of tail blindly find their bottoms aside from a seat.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm with my husband; none of your business."

"I like your ring."

"My boyfriend got it for me."

"I thought you were married?"

"Yes....."

"Does your husband know?"

"Yes....."

"Oh.....really....."

"He's dreamy."

"Your husband?"

"My boyfriend."

"Did you just kiss me?"

"Don't tell him."

"Do it again."

"You're going to tell him aren't you?"

"Not if you kiss me on my lips."

"That will break his heart."

"No."

"Why not?"

"I heard it through your chest."

How often am I here is a question I rather not ask myself. My memory is a vague woman. Writing collects a thought outside my head but disappointment clothes my body. Everywhere an obnoxious voice buzzes through unwilling pretenders unfortunate to survive a lying world; the truth is a blanket which never sleeps as I dream of marrying a wolf.

I miss him terribly; call me selfish. I want you to experience this feeling; the misery is divine and destructive. The nature of gods and demons is a tortured man and woman.