Senseless Sensuality

Firm fidgets of digits cliff hang my nose to sliding lips; voltage arms explore my dead friend.

"I want to go completely around."

"I prefer this."

"If I am your size will I be able to?"

"I suppose."

Little features are bigger than me, I see a sharp dive into crimson plush pulp forming a woman I used to know; ticklish tentacle tips touch a girl who took an extended vacation. Here I am to be what I cannot recognize unless I write. Every moment's dream is a knock at the door without residents; I am the appearance of what I might be if somebody lived inside.

There is a man walking next to me on the sidewalk streets of Brooklyn; hair covers his face and eyes.

"Prison Guard Boy!"

"Do I have to wear this shirt?"

"Yes. Don't ask me again."

Fire hydrant blocks his argument but I catch a collar before he falls.

"Whoa....those are people."

"Forget about it."

"I don't like them one bit."

"There's two."

"I don't like them two bits."

"Should I?"

"What...."

"Bite?"

"Cool."

"Prison Guard Boy! He's not so bad."

"Yeah you're alright."

"Can I take it off now?"

"What did I tell you about asking me questions?"

"You told me not to ask you one."

"You asked me two!"

"I'm going back to that lady's house."

"What color is her hair now?"

"Rainbows..."

"I'm going to make you another shirt."

I like rainbows. I am gay!

Country western lapses headaches lost and forgotten bloody ugliness. Duet of experimentation drops me in the center of a club assortment personality complex. My black ribbed wife beater sucks a red double black loop hole reptilian cotton over black bag slacks inside crimson Tiger mink oil leather, chain to grip hangs a digital key. These people are staring at my unnerving hesitation to socialize with a world I sleep.

"Do you know what this place is?"

"You're handsome; have we ever met?"

"I come out for certain moments."

"Join me for this one."

"I desire length of which."

"As do I."

"I came here to find you."

"You found me."

"I like looking at you."

"Look all you want."

"Is that your husband?"

"Shit."

"I knew it."

"Is he here or not?"

"Not."

"Shit."

"How many do you have?"

"Many is not a number."

"They're coming."

"Who?"

"I don't know."

"Why are we here?"

"I don't know."

"How did we get here?"

"I don't know."

"You're handsome."

"You're married."

"Yes I am."

"What is it like to be married?"

"I don't know."

"How do you not know?"

"Last night I was handcuffed."

"Who did that?"

"Two smaller versions of us."

"How small?"

"They are strong little people."

"How did you get out?"

"I stood naked on a window ledge."

"Where do you live?"

"I'm married."

Center of attention is adulterous communication, obviously these people saw a ghost, might of been me, might of been him, might of been a machine. I am uncertain how to perform.

"What do you call this?"

"Straddling....."

"I can be your husband."

"What do you call that?"

"Looking down your shirt."

"Did you see my ring?"

"It's in between my teeth."

"You speak well with clamped fangs."

Silver femininity falls back into a sports bra I thought I was wearing, somebody changed Victoria while dreaming; pink lace cherry blossom confuses fashion for Leo, stars protect me turning upside down galaxies for guilty milky ways.

"They are not like us at all."

"Where do they come from?"

"Is this a nightmare?"

"Do I look like a nightmare?"

"Do I?"

"If I look away....."

"I understand."

Somebody is watching me; she is an Amethyst heart. My husband sits at the bar next door wondering the same with a bottle of cognac shattering concrete flooring. His growl rumbles the decorated wall, cowboy hat, lasso, buffalo horns; a fist grows through subliminal wallpaper.

"That's my husband."

"I like him."

"He's dreamy."

"I'm going to carry you like this."

"Only if you act rough and possessive."

"I can do that."

Rodeo sport is a difficult task as I ride this man through an alley, people are chasing us, we gallop to a parking lot.

"Whose car is that?"

"Mine."

"I've never seen anything like it."

"I brought it to impress you."

Neon blazes pure intellectuality sloping tear drop luminescence, curving conical couture monochrome mysterious metal demon trike empowers hydrogen peroxide.

Vantage point catches shooting stars reminiscing another existence lost inside itself. I am leaning a tongue to crimson octopus blasted neck.

HERE LIES VERONA

"There you are child! Come here!"

"Shit."

"You remind me of my own."

"If my pop was not her stud....."

"What is a stud?"

"Yes what is that?"

"This guy told me about it."

"What guy?"

"How did you get here?"

"Children just appear!"

"Yes they do."

"Yes....."

"What is his name?"

"Malik."

"Where is he?"

"I'm not sure."

"What is ticking from your collar bone?"

"A timer."

"4:20"

"Do you smell that?"

"Smells like grandpa when he is upset."

"Did you hear a bubbling sound?"

"Where is Malik's?

"The other side."

"A wall?"

"Metaphorically.....I cannot explain."

"Take me with you."

"I thought about it; I cannot."

"And why not?"

"I met your child."

"I battle for them."

"I do as well, this round I lost; I will fight again."

"What do they want?"

"Our lives."

My hand brushes fluffy brilliance from reddish herbal gallantry; I am overwhelmed by a gorgeous dream. Avitas sits on my right knee examining him entirely; I tip her chin closing a gape of awe.

"Do you really look like that?"

"Do you?"

"Mama I drank that black stuff from that bottle. I think I'm hallucinating."

"Clover ginseng Hawaiian woodrose extract."

"You look like a chocolate ghost."

"You look like a planetary pleasure."

"Mom that was a little much."

"I'm running out of numbers."

"We are all running out of numbers."

"I will take you both home."

Prison Guard Boy bags every marker from the abode except for one Zoomy hid behind our chop shop of skateboard and bike parts.

"Pink!"

"Yes."

God Hates Me