Morning has broken
but she has not
it had been a long night
sinister fraught
the stars were cut
in lacerations of lace
          stains of tears
                      mark trails
                   on her face
mascara in circles
mocking panda eyes
multiple moments
of almost self-demise
wrists bound to
          sadness, heart
trussed to trust
pain from crumbling
illusions, plus
that constant,
          searing lust
Now, on the floor,
lying face down
in what seemed
              like blood,
she starts to
                 move around,
as realization pours over
in a thick, viscous flood:
She can move her arms;
for they were not
                really bound
That gag in her mouth?
it has dissolved into sound
The sound of her voice
as she gets up
        from the floor
opens the window
bringing light
            to the fore
guttural noises
escape deep
                 from her throat
and before she
knows it, the
room starts to float
furniture circling
as the energy takes
        and she lets in the air
             fresh as new fate
her cuts balmed over
         winds whipping up her hair
marks from taut ropes
smoothing over to bare
and the light bursts in
          in a blast, in a whoosh
like bursts of starlight
cutting in with a push
they seep into shadows
pulsing over the dark
the howling rescinds
          in an explosion of sparks
blocks of pain that held
her chained
are knocked over
and the lightstorm
                keeps coming
her inner percussion
just doesn't stop drumming
      And as she flies through that window
and unhinges the door
            from its frame
freedom
            is now hers
            forever to claim

I saw you left me,
In front of me,
Let my eyes wet,
Let my hair blows in the wind,
Let my lips balmed with the tears
Let my heart bleed.
Alone,
You left me, that day.
I still remember you said, "I'll be missing you everyday, everytime, and every beat of my heart."
But now,
Just tell me how to cry when you were gone.
Just tell me how to calm when I miss you like crazy
Just tell me the reason you already planned,
Why you did everything to me if in the end you will leave me?

I'm reaching out to you
Can you hear my call?
Can you hear that my heart screams?
Do you feel called?
This strange days I've been through without you,
Can you feel me like I feel you?
I miss you like this, crazy.

Just tell me the night when you decided to move out,
To somewhere further,
And all you did to me was calm me down not to cry,
Not to hate you, and punch you up.
And over the roads we passed that night, your fingers never be separated from me.
I miss that.

I really wanna feel you beside me.
Treat me like a best friend, sister, and a mother.
You always try to make yourself idiot when I'm upset.
We hate the same things, but always, I wanted you first.
I really need those gold old days comes back.
Is like kaleidoscope of memories.
The never ending story.
The unknown story for two strange mates.

What a truly farewell.
Sorry,
I'm crying.

Dear, B.

- dlx

Spent.
Rusted.
Encrusted.
Barnacled.
Manacled.
Chaffed.
Reddened.­
Arrested.
Transfixed.
Calmed.
Balmed.
Blamed.
Inflamed.
Infiltra­ted.
Intrigued.
Embarked.
Engaged.
Encompassed.
Decompressed.
Col­d-compressed.
Chilled.
Thrilled.
Spilled.
Spent.

The Robin called
And I looked out
From windows balmed
By a Summer January.
His little flushed chest
And my crimson vest
Went well together, so I thought.

He hopped along a twig
And dug for buds on the barren wood
Mourning that Winter long forgotten
In the cycle of death and movement.
He called out his call
And as the days fall
I try to speak to him, so I do.

The slow little bird isn't
Some prophet of the new dawn
But a straggler, slow with the weight
Of his heavy, fateful wings.
He flies to the sky
Follows my eye
To the sunlight I'm watching, so I am.

Sad to see, the true spirit of Spring
So misunderstood, so anticipated
Like the robin, Spring is not happy.
Spring is an epitaph of the lost days.
I wish he'd come back
And he will when the track
Of the year's memories lead him to me, mourning once more,
So they do.

From deepest
Hibernation
Rise

Phantomic
Images-

A street of
Ceaseless hum

A poesy of
Fallen petals-

This is work
Beyond words

Where silence
Snows

And everlasting
Freedom

Roams,
Bandaged and
Balmed against
The light that
Blisters
And fails.

Even so,
Love seems real

the complete idiocy of straining your brain around, im sitting here and the cards are facing in that direction. how do i read a book upside down held the wrong-way-too? well, you can get, i suppose, into a total knowingness that knows what all the books in the world say, but i'm afraid that you would read all the books at once. your selectivity gets poor without locations. you would know, but you wouldn't know what you knew if you're going to do mystic stunts , do mystic stunts.



'belief interdicts as cosmic judge, the velocity of the gesture cutting out the faceted crystal ball, how much, which position, and why? these proclivities are involuntary, part of the unconscious low intensity biophotons of tangible flection pondering on utility of the ego in reflexive coagulation in shredding, dressing of the christ child, emitted and divulged from the genesis. different rooms, same crazy stairs.'

The eternal passes by in the form of a ***** and the madonna; the desire and the ******.

tantamount to the flame of your heart is the memory of the matter the matter of memory as 'porous' to the propelling pyramid of eye that blends with the Azure (Sun) ... rising a shadow that dwindles the smell of decaying flowers, a bouquet of insects, animals, rocks and trees and a translucent umbrella for the communion rain for you to mount the stairway to heaven through illusive glittering of the flicker of the flame of your heart, balmed on the brain exists the embalmed spirit. Lets magnify it so we can see all the insects of the rocks, all the Life and allow the glass-beads to become mirrors of the spherical-celestial, follow the trail of slime by the insects and smell the odour of flower-form without motion, just pure conduit of thought for the panoply of the prepositional neural network that wah-wahs in the prams and of course the drum-rolling-trumphet-mysterium of forbidden juice, to ooze the noble man in by sensory-nector, perhaps beyond & above to the ink of clouds where imagination lies without a pen ! BUT THAT ALREADY HAPPENED

the more articulate you explain things, the more they will believe
the vow of silence in a distant monastery is of no use when the cry of the christ Child is right outside that same silence, let's all pray.
the telepathic parapraxis
you look at an object and the way that the object is presented to you and if you don't see that door closed or tap shifted in the correct directional then your entire relationship is ruined, something like that.
'Dante... Bruno. Vico.. Joyce'  Feel the Void
'that question was shy'
'your larynx is detuned because your cerebrum is boring and your amygdala is *******'

Red or green, thin or fat,                                                             ­     
Fiery and hot, green and spicy,
You are highly inflammable and pungent
Indispensable, inevitable, around the world
people call you ‘chilly pepper’
When you put their mouths on fire
But paradoxically you mean ‘cold’
when you are really ‘hot’
Burning to every tongue, terrifying to think of,
Ineffable, incredible,
In spicy cuisines anywhere in the world
Burns but delights anyone’s heart and soul
who loves to be tangy and wildly in love with you
Flaming them persistently with your presence
Today when I spotted you being sprouted in my garden
Balmed by rain and nurtured by sunshine
I felt zesty amidst heavy shower in my courtyard
With joy over a long wait of your birth
Ever since I sowed you in my garden ***
To see you born, to be a unique flavor and taste
Not just for my cuisines in the kitchen
But forever and forever
To be the spicy seasoning of my life…….

Calm and quiet, in her own;
Drops of water into unknown.
Is it mist or is it dew?
Comprehending her very few.
Does it move or is it still?
Her father wonders is this his till.
Why no merry when so young,
Join the chorus and be one in sung?
Remembers he of that dark night,
Like a shadow what he sight,
Sadness deep still making him fright,
How can his daughter be all right?
The knock was long and earnest,
The sound of the coming tempest.
In a matter of moments they were charmed,
In those times of chaos all balmed.
A small sacrifice is what he said,
His only son from his first wed.
Her brother whom she has for cared,
How can he be fed to the dragon bared?
Yet they knew that  nothing cam be done,
For lives of many there is death for some.
As he dragged the boy from his hair,
Laying the essence of undying love bare.
Little did one know, the day she made that shell,
It would end it all as it grows and swell.
Living with his loss she went mute,
Ready to unleash the force so brute.
Death can take the young and mare,
Yet she would defeat it as loss has its share.