PROLOGUE –

Silliness becomes a later suffering, if only tinkered by potion –

PART I –

A contractual moment whilst halos best remain hung on the hat rack since devils taste so much better. Bitter but belated, ritual yet related, so to in avoidance, fleeing anything that’d mimic life, “ideal;” perfect being a, “nine-five,” during which, “monkeyed with,” comes to a peak and a valley’s once more, a lack of control. A tailspin wherein one truth can become just a shy more intangible mere seconds later – We can see it, we can smell it and we can almost touch it – so allows the specter, the hand holding drink, and later, permitted, for our nakedness to play once more.

PART II –

Four more down and a few gin-fueled gestures later, we stumble upon but one edible truth, an apple and, “sin,” repeated thousand-fold – so succumbs you and a parallel I atop our empty and, “precious,” wants carnal. We masticate and learn to destroy the TV – naked, begrudged and bent over the boxes we worship. We annihilate the machines. We profane the dependencies; placation and participation wrought this artificial coercion, once a friend and now an object – a disdain, a thievery, a prison, vicarious and to be avoided by all costs.

PART III –

Human interaction and fluidic free choice soon become the new, “in,” the primal addiction amongst the bottles of tequila, *****, and plain-old beer. Our grinning, in the flesh and not in pixel, must and will rise like the places we’ve so very poisoned. Here and now, we care. We have to care, because if we don’t, it’s all for nothing. So we top the night twisted, simply breathing, where the smog isn’t seen, but it’s there. We top the night tethered, where the rain doesn’t burn, it believes. And we top the night innocent, and among stars, both in the sky and entangled the heart beating my right,

EPILOGUE –

For the time being, just being, where all seemed right, a little twisted, but wiser nonetheless.

Your hair –
twilight strands of, “now'd,”
gotten longer and were so silently dreamt of last Tuesday.

Your fingers –
finally allowed, followed to weave my own,
and all that'd been prior washed away;

Dirt, gizzards and blasphemy, along with the boils from my father’s dead hands.

Your hips –
whispered 'morrow and all the jubilance expelled,
so that the same morrow's sun'd show eminence once again.

Your eyes –
said, “baby,” if only, “baby,” and, “baby, it'll be ok,”
it'll always be, “A-OK.”

So when your heart –
let me and finally to cry, appendage etched eyes,
eyes etched the night and sure, summer'd be at end,

but autumn could taste oh so much better.

It’s not often I relish the sun,
But did so,
Come one almond eye’d glance –
And “awkward.”

It’s not often I gaze, the stranger,
But did so,
Come the little silk doll, snoring –
Curled upon her back.

It’s not often I hate, putrid,
But did so,
Come man, come companion –
And the trash she’d burrowed.

It’s not often I speak, I only write,
But did so,
Witnessed smug, and a
A smoke, cradled poignant, “husband.”

It’s not often I blush, nor often I fold,
But did so –
Come a mother and son,
Climbing mountains, cursed, and trash.

It’s not often I scamper, tail tucked leg,
But did so –
Come her freckled red ménage,
And the man who’d snapped his fingers.

It’s often, and ought I point a finger,
But to did so –
Never knowing love, never knowing angst,
And never knowing them.

I dined upon a firefly tonight;
So that my belly’d master,
“Warm.”
But the cold can in my hand
Led to – Pebbles in my feet;
And pebbles in my feet
Led to –
Solitary;
Loneliness and
Left behind, starved, and
In a way I’d never fathomed.

Our love argued, “child;”
My responsibility
Now renders me couch.

Come Moroccan blue,
Wrought a Tokyo twilight;
The tangled neon, Guangzhou,
Ought London fog or gloom –
Entity’d ‘ever end with me.

So when gods plays jokes
Come a second near and nigh,
I’d nearly utter, “amen,”
Atop a belly, soon and son’s first cry –
I am a father; above, eternity’d grin.

So my plane kisses pavement, tepid,
Wrought one mother waiting; and
All I’d ran from, all abandoned,
Is now the only that’d welcome.
I’d never thought to nest, and yet –

Arrived, with straw in mouth.