There's an art to dodging riptides
-Toes against street cracks-
My body contorts to every push
Of water against my back.

In dancing streams that rule the streets,
My chest expands in lust.
Breathing, holding, sinking deep,
Equanimity in flowing rush

The way to dance with riptides
Is to kiss it on its cheek,
To feel not see in murky grey
Its grasp sweeping my feet.

My body twitches at every touch
Of water against my skin.
Then swiftly I leave its yearning pull,
And wait to start again.

Fingers heartbound
Knotted up in air
Gaze darting lost
Watching dancing
Frozen in movement
Desire for desire
Masked by panic
Intoxicate
Lost in descent
Bodies complement
Space absent touch
Concern ego lust
Parting hesitate
Yearn

The                                                        Corner­
over there, masked in dark,
-right there (?), nestled between
the book case and the paint?
That corner shadow cast behind
is the home of seven hobgoblins,
I swear!, I've seen them run
and bounce from wood to wall
shrouded in the shade of that           Corner!
Bouncing gaze dragged by them,
I count : one two seven stop!!!
Breath less and hear that stuttering
small sound! The goblins(?),
Those little guests of that normal     Corner,
Run their feetpaws around (circles)
- Like kids, I swear they giggle
When it's so late they shouldn't play
And yet (!) those goblins alight the  Corner.

i would -- if i could -- tear my heart back --
not in daylight -- they would see -- but in pitch black
corners of my mind -- where you burrowed in --
my pieces locked in time -- when you owned me --
im safe there -- in rotten dreams -- in blissful sins
of when you stole my soul -- and left me -- changed --

if only -- maybe then -- id luminate
all the places charred in heat -- turned hate --
and see where your tendrils -- pulsing power --
tore out and left me here -- blindly shamed --
no more! -- id kiss with light my burns --
from when you stole my soul -- ive changed.

Psychodynamic Catalyses commencing in 3... 2... 1...

Trial I:
Subject A's standing still, a perfect vacuous slate-
Oh wait - time: 10 - the twitching has begun
Something's been boiling beneath its skin:
Repressed, internalized emotions
Pleading - please - to leave the mind,
But no! It forgets, ignore the fractured bleeds
Inside,
Wipes clean the bursting mind anew.

Trial II;
Both Subjects have stumbled in, eyes met,
I reckon just one second left until the first
Wipes grimy doubts from seeping pores
And slathers some on its wincing guest.
Oh yes!
The most perfect Projection of self yet!
Proceed.

Trial III;,
Already introduced - the love pheromones -
And Subject A is completely induced
In love.
Distance, deliberations, and anguished moans
Hearken in the Pyrrhic self-preservation:
Subject A has maimed B in love-hate!
Reaction Formation a huge success.

Trial IV,
Gaslight interrogations have rendered
Subject A blind to all its repercussions,
For now the whole world's wrong if time
Can't prove its Rationalizations right,
No, not right, but fundamental to its very
Life!

Trial V
Hourly pedal electric shocks have Displaced
All the color of passion from the Subject's eyes -
Pale white!
And now in pathetic ploy to gain some joy
Leads it to bite, and gnaw, and destroy!
Everything!

Trial VI.
An injection of liquid memories
Of torment and trauma and rejected
Dreams,
And now the Subject has curled up
And shrunken backwards in time!
A little Regressed, teetering toddler,  
And now a suckling infant safe
By its mothers side.

Trial VII...
Something... unusual has occurred,
But do not fret or pull the funds!
Nothing but a standard deviation from the norm:
Our Subject has taken all its desires and cries
And transformed it into a radiant
Cloud.
Now, this Sublimation of the mind
Has left no pain, no suffering!
The Subject - I regret to inform - is fine.

Like a stumbling toddler,
I skate across the ice.
Smiling, flailing, windmills:
I’m frozen still in time.

Hardly moving, I think
I’m speeding by at last.
Now to show off my skills,
I fall (‿|‿)-first and laugh.

i never met the little one
they flushed away that night
a fleeting dreamt up fantasy
miscarried out of sight.

i never even thought not once
a fate where they survived
but all i think about them now
is that fleeting dreamt up night.

i never met the little one
whose name i wouldn't hear
for losing more than fantasy
was too dangerous a fear.