As adolescent night falls
He drifts in my dreams
His harsh and angry words
Causing hardness
Leave Turin stencils on my sheets
The feared bruising of our lips
In geometry of circular mouths
Does not stop our history
Prompts navigation
Leaves pleasure un-distilled

A boulevard where vagabonds swim
Is lined with Thracian women weeping
Swaying gently in the wind
With portraits of headless young men
Suspended on String, they are
In pursuit of tenebrous dreams
Whose shadow soft illusion lights
Yet the colour of black eludes
Amidst the debris of this magic and mystic charm
Forging hidden truths leaving light and darkness
In appeal to unreasoned thought that splinter sound
Leaving only tarnished echo floating effortlessly in tragic space
Notions negotiate and migrate in terrible turmoil
Not able to understand chaos corrodes
Human rust that eats the soul
With gnawing knowledge of emptiness
Creates a vacuum in the heart
That leaves cold the heat of happiness
Proclaiming despair its God
Points an accusing finger and brands us unclean
Impure, none persons, where is the colour of black

I negotiate the lie of beauty
Navigating its deceit, its untamed geography
Feel the curves of careless form

Caress un-travelled paths
Match its pretence and smile
Then breathe the darkness of its light

His touch perfect places itself
At the centre of all my dreams
Piercing syrup coloured skin

With little globs of sap
Glistening on a hairless map
Leaving exploration yet to be discovered

A senior takes of his clothes like a *****

Committing himself to the shower, smiles

Offering me a bouquet of suds

I become the player of a flute

He moans enjoying the water music

I come up every few minutes for air

His soap cleans my mouth

I think who is coming
No one, there are no echoes
I encounter a color
But don’t know what it is
It’s not a colour I have ever seen
Nor has anyone
It is a new colour just born
A colour that tempers shameless chaos
Tears the preferred darkness of blame deep inside
That denies the chance of I am
No one is here there are no echoes no sounds
A white spider smiles in incongruous chorus
A valley of its heart burning in choking congress
While it walks on its hands leaving footprints of burning rainbows embedded in the clay
I am not where I think.....therefore I think where I am not...

They have qualifications of compensations that prove ineffectual in the meaning of speech
Like the false prophets who preach then hide in explanation preferring the faces of boys steal my name
Mothers hold their children to their *******, purple smoke fills the air while other peoples’ appetites are eaten
The most frightful realisation of ambiguity presents itself in a waltz of hesitation
I hear the whispers of soft syrup coloured skin, of long polished black hair, of complexions
A pestilential silence that reaches and grips from corpse strewn streets creates a gentle but pure indolence
Now You are no longer where I can find my presence.

Purloined pleasures
Of unsolved paleness
Was pleasing, Per laughed
When he spread me
A wish bone
I enjoy his fun