She smelled of wild lavender and deep magicks,
The scent hanging in the air like a golden silence,
I'm trying to hold tightly yet composure is first to dissolve,
Senses fall one by one until no dominoes are left,
Stop staring, act natural and crumble on the inside,
Don't speak, reserve your efforts for a smile,
Blown fuse serviced from the under-wing like vertigo in my veins, and neatly betwixt ******* twirl a cotton drapery,
Framed in silk halo, enshrouding like auras in a Milky Way of phantasmagoria.
Until my thoughts become in summary and each breathe becomes shorter than the last.
The artistry of her elegance like sleek fine line-work on vintage paper and I'm ... feather light.
And in those tresses I'd seen that sheen before, in the ripple of calm ocean waves, and in auburn at sunset.
I'd seen that gloss in her eyes perched upon petals as morning dew and rain upon windows in my quiet times,
Between the silhouetting slopes of her contours as dunes upon the horizon, there's an eclipse in her lips that would not speak in any less than measured prosody nor kiss without dreamscape grandeur.

It's stories above where the butterflies rustled,
Whirring between the lights in aeolian bustle.
I'm smiling spritely at a neon halo,
While my organs writhe in jacqueminot El Niño.
Wading the nightscape  with a glitched simper,
I could not change nor attempt to tinker,
Just breaching the moments passing to linger.
Fingers, then palms, then lips, then black,
Then for a few seconds the world collapsed.
A breath, a sip, some wit, I'm back.
Shed the murky vision of captive cataracts.
And now,
The sylph saunters in epitomized elegance,
And I've buckled on the inside to the resonant reverence.
I follow the fragrance in her wake as paralyzed sedatives,
And anything I might say could only lack eloquence.
Then magnanimous mantras attract exact,
It seems way down the rabbit hole I've finally met my match.
There's a mesh of flesh, a smooth caress,
Then I wake and realize these were not visions yonder death.
Particles of my brain erupt,
I can't explain away the unfading elation of touch.
Every pose palatial down to the pixels,
I'd gaze deep in the sheen of her mind gleaming as crystals.
Her eyes open like daybreak in flashes,
Sunstreaks glint over the horizon of her lashes.
There's morning songbirds behind the taste of coffee,
I think she's figured I'm just a well decorated softy.
Unveiling my most human of contentions stripped to the eclipse of logic,
My former self laughs in tones pitched sardonic.
Euphorically strumming at gossamer heartstrings,
Etched in the fabric as sakura carvings.

Where we are is somewhere quiet.

Somewhere along the outskirts of a border town between Thailand and Cambodia.

I'm walking along what should be a desolate road under the glow of a late afternoon sky,

In the near distance a flock of birds shroud past a little girl being pushed around in a wheelbarrow by her brother.

I don't hear anything, everything has the volume turned down,

Muted to a still silence, and it's then I realize I've lost the rest of my senses too.

All but my sight, which is fixated closely on the most genuine smile and happiness I've ever come to witness.

Here and now has never been more imminent, for the first time in my history I might actually just be living in the present.

Roses are red,

They're whatever I want them to be,

Maroon, crimson, ruby or aurulent,

But violets are blue,

It's true,

If you want it to be, not a hue, - or a tinge, or a shade, just blue.

So I choose you,

Because I do say that violets are blue.

Here I've grown to accept the riddles of each day, to culminate into a coalesced mesh of disarray.
Never would the seeds down under sprout to see the sun at the mere sound of thunder.
X marks the spot somewhere dissolving in my gut, wrenching at the chance to give both some and none of which we call *****.
I've lost my faith in humanity,
I've lost humanity in my faith.
Yet I'd face my fate if only just to sate the state.
This flip book of stop.
Animation.
Assimilates fremescent assibilation,
And similarly tastes terrible,
Savoring like dry sponge, and tied tongues,
It's incredibly trivial, just a trivia of syllables stripped up to simple tools.
Simple tools.
Simple...

My own points of view,
Distilled in a dialect of disjointed truths,
Don't know how best to say this,
But without artistic expression every other word is tasteless.
Can't stop, can't become complacent,
But the other side watches me from perspectives placed adjacent.
Wish I made it,
Wish the whole world was just a little bit less abrasive.
Can't say I understand it much at all,
But maybe you could decipher something worthwhile in my cryptic scrawls.
Easy to see the whole world as corrupt,
But I'd much rather see it as majestic as ****.

They stay vigil, ever waiting the new design of sigils.
Kinda simple, keep their fingers pressed to pimples,
The pus a pit of petered parts,
Perceived by the reckoning of depleted hearts.
I rushed the doors at the sound of a great escape,
The process a repeat coordination of hurry up and wait.
Ever balking at the atrocities of cost,
Average Joes chasing dreams at the velocity of sloths.
How to be content with immense disparity?
Hands out faking quivers, shaking for some charity.
Forsaken someones somewhere surviving on a sliver,
Watching all the getters, I see myself a giver.

Handshake claw grip, crustaceans with an overstatement,

Never distressed with a sober sense spent on aimless wastage,

Never become too complacent,

Never butter devil's sodden words on scriptures burned through the ages,

Certain pages curtain stages grace to shattered shambles curdled shameless.

Shiny geodes the traditions on the backhand,

Sages matching matter sets a salamandrine babble balance act,

Skin tight ever-bond clasped reattachment,

Radical bags sag at the mystery of a mattress ,

Routine carry forth enabling of double standards,

Tailored youth to a callous canvassed pander *******,

Cat scratch moral compass to the badlands,

The pinnacle of rabid actions in the aftermath,

After that,

A rabbit or a lab rat,

Maze running side effects from the last batch,

No lessons learned just oblivious to brass tax,

Malleable malice in the marrow of the crab man,

Can't stand a phalanx divided by the last laugh,

******* sinner Peter chapters in the chapel of a hashtag,

Shadows in the chiaroscuro flit mongers little gas lamps,

Calypso rhythm stages a symphony of backstabs,

Coup d'etat passive damage scatters gravel slat in sandbags,

No matter shiny medal coiled vertebrae permeate the flashbacks,

Never with a sordid memory retraced to get a plaque stamped.

Between the fibril webs, dripping dew crystalline in the glare,

Yet yonder betwixt the tendrils a bloom doth loom the undergrowth,

Dahlia or ambrosia, neither less evinced,

In excess of apples and worms,

The beauty unlikeness to petal or fruit,

Nor weighed to deflorate by the evergreen.

As a stranger to the forest,

I've run amok the hillside,

And undone the earth with each selfish trudge.

I've littered the trail with the thoughts of my most internal singularity and emerged as legion amidst ancestors before.

Each lesson ringing true, made never to be undone with failure in pretense.

Unconditioned to channeling the inner parody,

Actualizing the adaption of an animal apt for apathy, actively act in atrophy.

The vessel a fractured vapid faculty,

Of exactly the amount of human trapped in how not to be.

Lock and key, the property you deem your thoughts; a metropolis of atrocities.

Listen, don't listen, push and pull the pensive pistons,

Re-position, your decisions, until you got what you'd envisioned.

Lines like a laxative for tongues,
The individual pieces become greater than its sum,  
Summer time therapy dialing up in increments,  
Wouldn't know the difference between the butterflies and chrysalis.
Syzygy in spirit as sympathy in the impetus,
Synergy  in serendipity makes symmetry seem ubiquitous.
Flummoxed, I fell face first flying into fellowship,  
Feeling fusion in the furrows of my fingertips,  
Figure this,  mistigris,  implement mirrors  for the synthesis,  
Taking root  in the underground,
This is censorship on stimulus.  
Kaizen from the get-go,
How did silence ever get gold?
Climate of the  biome discernible by  petrichor,
Some of my greatest allies are people I've never even met before.  
Mumpsimus with metaphors, metatron or metamorph,
A mess of Mesozoic memoirs  drowning in a reservoir,
Reserve my right to write a mire of a  message board,
Desire an empire of satire to conquest; explore,  
Buyers,  sellers,  best befores,  
Crying out to be adored,
The expiration estimation rivals rivals' primal repertoires.
Rhymes like mycelium,  climbing up the  parapets,  
Embrangled mosaics interceding abstract arabesque.

Make missions,

Go fishing, try eating something with nutrition.

Call yourself Christian, call yourself missing,

Anything at all,

Ride both the rise and the fall,

Horizon overriding, still deciding and surmising minutes while atoms casually colliding,

Not surprising, devising tides inside the pride of prized chastising.

So yeah, prolly go to hell,

******* go everywhere else before I get there and have some stories to tell,

No glory in dull,

Voiding reward set annulled,

Board the encore of boredom to quell.

Withdraw the assorted fortunes from the dormant shells that they dwell.

Implore on Discordia when yore sets a spell.

Call on your awesome, most of all, try your best -

Wish ya well.

Elevate me, bring me to a separated plane,

That would culminate my thoughts from somewhere between spiritual and deranged.

But ok, debunk yourself from stable,

From making magic between the tragic epiphanies; reversed serendipity to cradle.

This traffic of ideas tesselate the snake train,

Elaborated in definitions of tapestry and fake names.

Wallflower, with no protest to bonemeal,

Kaleidoscope of diets from eggshells and chlorophyll.

Hmmm, this brain food's a drug inducing misdirection, that holds no compass but somehow still sheens a cruel reflection.

Of course, consolidated losses, juxtapose the crosses,

Sway the form of faith to a diluted array of traits. +

And when the gullets a game for gross concoctions,

It's obvious isolation and failure seem the only options.

But anyway, with a sober mind still intact,

I could follow lines of letters from loosely to exact.

Clearly there is no sure thing, especially when the puppet contorts to the willful rhythm pulling at his own strings.

Look how far we've come, from willing to unable, that would shatter any semblance of cards still on the table.

Repackaged, see the sentiment sculpted in the semblance of a seraphim with second skin,

I'm reckoning,

Respecting artistry is the energy in empathy,

Interdigitating like gloves to fingers,

Clutching the doorknob,

Twisting to a time that was once there, felt by a someone,

A freethinking carbon unit,

Carved by cards dealt and carsick movements,

This perfect person; a testament to diverging from automation,

A someone, Doing SOMETHING, somewhere,

Forging from thoughts to creation.

I admire you as a maker of things,

There are no mistakes, every moment is golden  -  don't flinch

We lay together for the last time,
A cold embrace,
Where never before had we been so far apart.
The disparity in deficits, until there's nothing left,
No words, no background, no memories,
And it's so quiet I can hear you thinking,
Every word over in poetic narration.
I wish I could say the modesty seemed overbearing,
But this time was different,
Like horse-meat with white wine,
It might take some getting used to,
And I'm not surprised,
Nor angry, nor placid,
Just ephemeral to the sway,
And maybe you're broken,
Irreparable, but things will be as they always have,
Wherever and as they may.

I carry a casual carapace,
A character trapped in ambience.
Amble the alleyways and ascertain an avid state in acid rain,  
The product a revision of charisma corrected conditions,
How I've come to envision a victim or a villain.
Attach the cataracts to collapse to a tone of grey,
We're all the same under the sages, same as saints.
Geared to the gutters, I greet in mustered mutters,
I mumble through humble structures,
The tongue erupting ruptures.
                
I'm sure they see me as a background actor,
In the shadows of a flagship,
The character on mute behind a selective scene of laughter.
Is this disembodiment, or an echo of the cage?
The skin, bones and flesh under the semblance of a face.
Amazed by the growth of atrophy,
A passenger passing passively,
Impactfully passing passages,
Just practicing for a classic scene.
Fit in, camouflage, play ******* chameleon,
The inner truth a Gilles suit, where this mere meat is measured in a meager mediums.

I'm certainly a circus of surplus circuitry,
I could be less of a mesh of flesh,  with a sense of urgency.
Here a golem strung by the clockworks of a blueprint,
Chiseled in with details and a little bit of hubris.
Pistons Positioned to pivot, pin, - all inclusive,
Grinding on the causeways of abusive truths in future,
Joints cracking, hinges at their thresholds,
Attention to the details, a trend to tend to tenfold.

I hold my standards to an apex inexplicable,

Amalgamate the serendipity bouncing up through every syllable,

Never to extinguish the conquest of a man,

through the echoes of his eyelids that put aside asylum tryna understand.

I ain't shouting to the deaf, nor breathing in the miasma,

I amass a massive mastery and disenchant disaster.

None to believe the heretics denouncing between the flames,

The accusation between falsehoods are strung beneath the names,

A rivalry hosts opinion, incongruent to the mustered memory,

I bode the omens overhead and pray these sanctums hold my enemies.

As I'm retracing thoughts back and forth,

I court discord through gaping jaws,

This talk's a sport, on days I'd really rather not report.

But here I am again, don't know how to make amends,

I just hold my breathe and then play pretend.

Far fetched among the text that I've regressed,

Heart of gold with ribs abreast my treasure chest.

Change is easy at the precipice,

Bend the common law to fit the purpose we deem relevant. +

The benefit of sedatives circumvent the medicine.

Tennyson, tentative with the page and pen,

Again I'm holding thumbs while my eyes begin to pendulum.

I waste my words with ones not even worth mentioning.

Simply sibilant, snake shapes saying something softly,
Situation **** and sift sloppy, sodden, - sorry.
Sullen sordid stories, son of Sam,
Scabbards scavenged swords in Sabbath scams,
Sacrilege so savage, scattered sadness spans,
Supermarket salamanders scanning stamps,
Scallywags,
Sale! super savings! samples!
Spam.
Scene set, spent smattering surplus sacrifice,
Salivate, savor sapidness, sate, sedate, sat sufficed.
Sally's saxophone, Simon's silly shiny sabre,
Santa statues stand slated saints, some sages; same saviours,
Smirking surgeons skirting surfaced sapience,
Sacredness seldom stages shabby states in simultaneum,
So sides seat seperate, Segregated sects split the stadium.
Sagaciating services swathed symbols stitched in superstition,
Simply the situation simian sufficient.