a google earth stalker hovered &
zoomed in on localities that predicted
his frequency like an equated John.
fanatically checking for refreshed images--
that he may feature as an action shot of
undiscovered talent.
the quirky habituation of her long distance
fix, a savant's out-of-body experience.
a rendezvous' autopilot, more accurate than a
dreamt address--a gooey **** driving fingernails
into tight fists.
despoiling the lifelines of palms, eyelids cracked
open like blinds voyeuring on the closed door
policy of the indecent.
now she jams her zipper, while hopping in &
out of bed with self-mythology.
alone with her body, or alone with another body.
she's back on google earth again, fastidiously
searching for an appropriate potter's field.

leaning towards those in your elephantine ears,
fast with reerecting churchy whispers--have
monumental opinions of you.
while you're used at ease, in adjustably particular
ways--nodding with pathetic gratitude.
your sister's ***** slip that night, in regard to a
pinnable justice on your cold ***--goes around in
sisterly unsaid.
what you desecrated with the dead weight of
forward motion, isn't even aware of retrograde as
damnability.
a chartless pole leaves an elderly woman where
she lie, for good--as you sleepwalk away from her.
she's lonely because you probably won't make it there--
despite all the surrounding evidence.

the weak ancestry of your menstrual
flow leaked its curse under my roof.
as the moon became an aborted
metaphor--a witch left back scavenging
for a grade of being.
making evil little faces with no magical
reserve, froggies caught in your throat.
unintelligibly shrewd pangs clamoring
for screams deep in the sticks.
with a flightless broom dry heaving
between your legs.

it's all very prepubescent--they'll drag out

a box of toys by its crinkled lip from a hiding

place, & begin to rummage.

as if the box's stomach were growling, the greedy

dig underway.

toys of interest haphazardly make the carpet's cut.

then the remaining box of toys is kicked back into

its Precambrian closet, as with a tentative tantrum.

toy worlds in all phases of creation intersect, collide &

are destroyed--with a handful of survivors combining

shellshocked wisdom.

then even they go their separate ways in Adam & Eve like

scenarios...the prepubescent's *** feels bloodlessly sore.

gets up, retarding calisthenics--leaving behind a mess of

cause & effect.

not dissimilar from the novelty-parasites you may encounter

in relationships.

preternaturally longish grey hair,
acid-yellow buckteeth hanging from the
slathered lipstick of your thin upper lip.
(a wigged version of Billy Corgan).
fixed into a moronically concentrated pucker,
failing at the illusion of fullness.
while garnishing an apartment with the
paraphernalia of a free spirit too stale to beat
to death, a just-so of obsessively repeated
finishing touches.
the remanent rise of ******-***** coziness,
niche/nook/now--you, no...wind doesn't like you.
the very thought of your current routine is as
flotsam as the passion-**** you once dealt.

Cerberus' tri-lapsing time,
wholly materializes at the everchanging
gate of hell's undisclosed location.
three-headed hound: one head looks backward,
one head looks downward, one head looks forward.
watchful as the white candles with black flames.
his constant chain reaction of biting mouthfuls
from a disassociated body--swept with unanimous
agonies.
then viciously going at his faces & necks.
all fours in a multidirectional trounce for potential
escapees.
there's a stench so piercingly foul that it can only be
registered between retches--yet Cerberus' six
nostrils relish it.
are adept at deciphering it from the condemned
that attempt to creep.
the electrically gruff boom of his bark staying their
torn feet.

the earth's twin died at birth.
her twin visits her only when she too
wants to die.
her twin changes geography as if wearing
an equatorial mood ring.
all features forever present, but nameless.
once she stopped, condensing a single
revolution into the sandy pit of a circus
enclosure.
the color of depthless purple, in the middle of
a desert.
enter Noah's henchman--the one who taught
animals to perform tricks.
he wore a top hat & had a seven foot tall
crystalline body.
the ringmaster's pit was filled with serpents,
colorized & patterned as if out of a pineal gland.
he went thru them, snapping them straight into
flaming swords--head to tail.
working them down his throat.
until a wind stood up, swirling against his ring
as if it were surrounded by glass.
when that protective forcefield let off--the
ringmaster vanished into blown continuations
of sand.