An Everyday Way

Night is passage into peripheral straining while I contemplate the surroundings I despise; every face and undesirable encounter poisons my thoughts. If once to get away then twice may be dismay. If I am alone thus is an open book; searching words is fortunate exploration however choice is deliberate consequence.

Which world matters not.

Simple deeds conceive illegitamite remembrance whence many became a technological pyramid few of us journey to desert graveyards searching for a name; an arrogant dream possibly the sleepwalking lion's paw trampling unforgiven pestilence. Speech is not an applicable permit inside a barren cove denying wandering bodies; I rather not.

Clouds beget silk shadow lips, flavor of tombstone tears cycling my perch between memory and inverse fears. Fear is without a home. I pitch sonic domes; I kiss the tip of a scythe which accompanies my walk.

If to answer is a question I choose silence to cloak my face.

Inside the tree hollow my voice syringes viscose blood droplets yet she remains; how does she come is an exit without entrance.

"Hello."

"I came for my husband."

"Whom I do not know."

"Of course you wouldn't."

Point and scream; 'some people' is a telegram sent to me while I bathe immortality.

"Childish games."

"Childish! Childish! Why would we behave childishly here!?"

What an arm extending into nothingness - violent kingdoms, medieval strategy levels, gratuitous presentations; I give thee flange of clasping spider theatrics for clarity of sinful wishes and morbid kisses.

"I came for the one who became the man I dream which is very morose here for some reason. Tell me why since you came from some land I think I came however I shan't know until he greets me again."

"I am The Queen of The Damned."

"Oh really."

"Yes. Reality is relinquishing your moment in the midst of deadly puddles."

"Water?"

"Twas until."

"Until what? You look like a damn folk story. Show me your face."

"Why should I show you what has been seen so many crystal balls juggling bags of dope and sweating crowds of anguished delegation?"

Give me neurosis woman doth consider your stay if words should penetrate thine mouth thus the quiet slaying for The Valley of The Shadow of Death, a sleeping abode dwelling upon nightmarish paranoia and memories of defamation might of occurred had I not been the farmer for this artisan world. I cannot foretell regret; I cannot swear scripture's intent.

"He belongs to me. I shall have him."

"In what way do you go on and on about a small child which excited thine breasts?"

"How would you know what it is to bear breasts?"

The choice of speech is necessary fulfillment.

"You are some cowl of a walking swamp vagrant piece of sewer exhaust."

"So be it. You walk by my walk. You know me not. You know not what I am."

"I just want him and I am exhausted of all this."

"So you come to destroy the preservation of earth along with yourself?"

"I didn't know it was sharp."

"That's quite an abrasion."

"I can't take it with me."

"I never met a being come through which interested my instinctual interests."

"Look just kill me cause I got to make it through."

"I can swing it and make it look cool."

Swapping figures throughout, darkness eliminates eradication; two is a face of superficial portions. I look upon crude droplets falling from sadness as discretion recognizes love; these belong with thee, whichever me, one to be.

"Hey Amethyst."

"Oh."

"Show us what it looks like when you spin it around and do all that stuff."

"Cocoa Bear when I tell you I love you there don't think it's because other people say it just to get attention or to be noticed. I do love you just not like that."

"Like what?"

"You'll see."

"Come on let me see what you do with that."

"That's not going to get it going Cordelia."

This place may indeed survey me; geometry defies my left hand. I consider myself an accidental pendulum.

Here lies the likeness of crimson jewels and sapphire waterfalls.

Baggy cotton trousers strung to my ankles ballooning a spiral leap into the arms of Catri. I suppose an apology could suffice if I did not feel as though freedom may only be known by struggle, such a peculiar thing; delightful sensitivity caresses her bosom's profile. He is my name whenever he appears; he is a gentleman wearing blue jeans. A nectar nuzzle cuddles her supple pinkness I touch the smoothness of her lips.

Endless blue for a deadly becoming yet our achievement is equilibrium's deliberation. My mind synthesizes probable prediction; we will search a mistake as our own, whomever adores The Land of Damnation and Darkness shall find home.