Thou Shalt Not Shalt Not

Shea spikes an empty pill bottle with a note; vacuum tube reverses an orange prescription into my lap before I nap insanity's insomniac mat.

I kidnapped one.

Hilda Bee cups a red bowl inside her palms conjoining miscellaneous counting digits; she lifts the curve of a soft neck, I lean back unable to resist. Cordelia lays upon my left shoulder, Victoria upon my right shoulder, a cat named Sigmund upon my right ankle, his mistress Sylvia upon my left ankle, a conscious coverts desperate marked measurements line segmenting my chest to abdomen bridging hips then legs; I attempt awakening from the haze of disease.

"Which one is mine?"

"Me."

"What if they see you?"

"They're asleep."

"Which is which?"

"I forgot."

"We are going to get in trouble."

"Where's my coconut?"

"Hiding."

"Tell him to come out and play. I desire chocolate babies."

Katarzyna lives inside a childhood memory circulating Lucidity's crystal ball; she is also a little person I prepare honeydew melon porridge steaming caramelizing molasses infused soy milk. We converse cocoa and melting whispers; I explain this is whence ours come.

One thousand six hundred and fifty milligrams of liquid sacrilegious pumping ventricle vanity peaking twin black iron rod scrolling shelves of twin doctors' closet; count five hundred to die then die some more.

Two hundred sixteenths of a split hero vanquishes the land of dripping camouflage; putrid green grey is the color of gunfire smoke, crimson graffiti spits alley walls with stacking dough biscuits and gravy for pipe dreams.

"Somebody left me a note on top of hypodermic number three three three."

"Somebody left me a note on top of hypodermic number three three three."

Veneer covers the heart of Asia; you are not a doll to play with dead rich men.

Porcelain sickens the tongues of gluttony; you are not food for anorexic plates.

"Shall we trade?"

"Oh..."

"Ah..."

"They write well."

"We still must die."

Thank you.

"What does that mean?"

"A phrase they say such as perilous greeting."

"Who told you that?"

"An American."

"I wonder why he left it."

"She also said twas sorrowful gratitude bordering emotion of guilty persuasion."

"I will correspond coordination of a single word."

Farewell

Infamous seafaring men withstand microphone static however one is a tech tonic singer's romance, he is the anchor of a ship sailing violent violet braggadocio; he is a pirate's extracted skull and crossbones. Schools of recessed fish crease a nuclear spill; I despise their instructors. I settle upon a sequoia's balcony branch navigating lost islands amongst apocalyptic skies.

A woman lays for nestling predators weaving impressions into a silken poppy seed Persian rug; a woman lays for nestling predators weaving impressions into a silken poppy seed Persian rug. Opium milk settles into droplets of red lipstick; the globe divides into directional hemispheres of disillusion. Whichever is mine I shall not regret aware of another existence haunting me for an infinite moment I am and am not.

"Amethyst you must promise unto me never to do as I did."

"Ruby you must promise unto me never to do as I did."

"I shan't promise not to do as you; I am thine vessel."

"I am thine vessel; I shan't promise not to do as you."

"Dearest me."

"My dearest."

Swift joints of Sista's fist wraps the break of my right arm; grapes pulsate concord spirals for her touch. We stand aside a bed compiled of laundry white scented sheets hibernating cartoon depiction decorum listlessly presenting the possibility of pixies; a woman ravels a black straight jacket. Our tears swell monsoon rains from the tree of lies; I hide from white, he hates me.

"Hi."

"That's my Butta."

"I am not crazy."

"Are those your first spoken words?"

"Rather valiant considering our circumstance."

"You look like you can dance."

"I'm about to be on TV."

"What is that?"

"Oh some box with a plug that makes noise and moving pictures."

"I'll look for you on there."

"I'm right here."

"I know but I got to go. I'm not crazy. I'm getting out of here."

"We would like that as well."

"What is a Butta?"

"He is butter from a nut burst and because his pants are always falling off his arse."

"I'll remember that about you."

"I can't help it."

"How do I get out of here?"

"Gilbert created an automatic navigation system out of a pickle; it will drive a supply truck to a train station. You can take it to New York."

"What is there?"

"A city called Brooklyn."

"That is where you must go."

"They will hide me."

"She needs a name."

"Give her one of yours....."

"Regina."

"So hey dancing boy, you going to show me your moves?"

"I'm restricted scientific property; they are going to shut me down."

"You will come back."

"I will?"

"For your wife."

"How do you know about her?"

"She's standing behind that robot."

"Wow she's hot."

"We will explain to you later how this happened."

"If you desire a story."

"Maybe if I can read it."

"Everything is like a dream for me."

"Is that why you got marks on your white tee?"

"It's brown this time. A lady yells in my ears; she tells me it is not working and she will make the solution stronger each injection."

"You going to be alright."

"We don't know....."

"What about you?"

"I am not crazy."

"They might do it to you too."

"Who is that little girl over there?"

"She's our chocolate baby."

"What's her name?"

"Lucid."

"She'll make it better."

"We forget a lot of things."

"You won't forget her."

"Bye Regina."

"I like your Butta."

"You can't have him. Okay Gilbert! She's ready to go."

Virgin sand wonders the face I cry out loud; my fingertips frustrate recreation. I am committing drawn suicide reminiscing his hair; Jamaican shores slide away as the color of asphyxia relatively fills a scarring water slash, whom cuts is the curiousness of what I am. He appears behind me, a thrust of morbid flesh upon his body; my tears puddle sorrow to sling the hammock, red jewels summon tiger stripes, I could be alive.

"We need to be closer than this."

"I am dying."

"Me too."

"I will always feel this way."

"It'll get better."

Snow crystals trace beads of icicle stillness; I sadden the expressions of artistry doth resembling morgue chambers. My weakness is stronger than my sickness; I will be gone soon. A man lifts me over his shoulder; he is my favorite pillow.

I am without graphite muscles as an interpretation of me, torrential floods grieve my cheeks; bats scream forsaken sense. Searching for flesh to reach you but we are dead. Concentric circles capture us inside a rainbow dream as we contemplate the arrival of extraterrestrial denial expressing aquatic mysteries.