I dispelled arduous watches tick on laborious appareled macrocosms scatter spitting patter, teeming paved labyrinths searching for something to own orbiting the bench I sit on, envisaging celestial bodies slinging transonic ripples. Ether colliding into clouds masking infinite galaxies from a suffering and crawling universe destined for a hole in the wall, where the rats live; nibble, scratch, deconstruct, and reconstruct, cannibalize, ****, and die.
         Does silence exist amongst the deucedly hot and dense state that incrementally dilutes vociferous dissonance illuming dynamic hurricanes, merciful gases, and asteroidal moats guarding engraved anthropomorphic landscapes?
Probably not; fauna whisper, tear down, and settle, birth exigent infants and zealous appraisals, ***** towers and castles; consciousness capitulates, inundates prisons, cemeteries, and landfills. Silence, in precipitous day dreaming, auspiciously reverberating webs espying arpeggios tomb the suburbs as one navigates in and out of trepidation to avoid being caught like a gnat, a quiet ******* bug with no cigarettes to burn.
The impact flung me from the bench in the commons toward dusk disguising 16 acres with streetlights and homeless asking for squares on the roads to spurs and oaks, scattered acorns crepitating under my soles. Each  compressing sound pulling like gravity, transporting down roads with bouncing winds, subtle aglow, guides from defiant contours of Gods in the clouds, dandelions erupting side walks like tectonic plates seismically tear apart earth, the fog’s mist like ships floating into suns swimming like tadpoles; air undulates as I wave my hands against the wind, molding the space as clay.
This city is mine, I tumultuously grow with it, and I mercurially oscillate with it as a memory inevitably plays. The past as a dream, is mine. The abstract present is mine, and the infinite future is not, yet they are given away for possession.
Inept graffiti cartographically stain bricks providing a simpler search for portals made perfect for laying like a crescent moon near their opening edge, watching dawn lift dust and my eyelids, glaring off windows building and kissing the satellite towers on roofs, waking the mountains in the horizon, painting the sky, one could give a **** about the past, present, and future, the beginning is just as imminent as venturing any further.
Embryonic sun rays mixing fluids and this coffee I nabbed to wake the day, having it enlighten the conversations one has with oneself; consisting of bellicose thoughts filtered, taboos accompanying bleating people, ubiquitous t-shirts, satirical newspapers, and indecorous magazines perpetually feeding me preliminarily eldritch reconnaissance as they dress into strangers.
It could be time for another cup of coffee and cigarette? Or am I just floating off into enigma over the road becoming a sea?
Gypsies contort into seagulls, shingles moving like tsunamis smashing down on metropolitan brick cities, Atlantis generation XYZ resting in an underwater valley, mountains sew gardens on the ocean’s bottom, signs buried, and I’m simply lifting back off into space.
Complaints will suffocate; I’ll be out of town, however, I will miss those whom drowned.
Good riddance.
“Hello,” a soft resonation shaking the atmosphere.
Resuscitation; back to reality…
“Hello”, the voice repeated, “Are you going to be alright?”
“Pardon, what happened?” I slurred.
“You just fell several stories and your head is missing. This is astonishing how you can hear me, how I can hear you, are you in any pain?”
“Um, I apologize, but I’m not really certain of what you are saying. My head is missing?”
“Yup, it detached from your atlas, when you hit the asphalt, what is the last thing you remember?”
“Having my head…well sort of, I remember staring at people on a bench in the commons it was kind of turning my stomach, making my head feel heavy, so I got up and walked. Explains the headaches and visuals, Where am I?”
“You’re in my basement. I could hear your voice when I found you, even with your head, well, skull missing.”
“Why didn’t you call an ambulance?”
“I would have called an ambulance, but you told me not too, you wanted me to hear you, you kept insisting I hear your stories, so, I listened to your stories as I basically dragged you here. You would go in and out, talking then silent the next, and now you seem like you’re in at this moment; without a skull, your heads there.”
“Well…I can’t see you… or the basement… and I am not in any pain… How long has this been going on, why did you listen to my stories, and what did I say?”
“You know what you said.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m the only one who listened.”

PAGE ONE SIDE ONE

      The diffident boy’s chameleonic anguish sought to be cordial movements, only projected shaking and quivering hands while strolling along with a girl into a saunter down, down the street on a bridge hanging over a lake in a park.
      "Hold my hand" the boy said in a swoon to the girl, continuing - - "I love the shake, I love that frigid quiver, lets walk, jostle too beat, beat down the wind and jostle the street!"
       “Let us move further toward the illuminated illusions of the sun adjacent with the moon’s reflection blurred, misguiding us from shade for our eyelids, hiding,” the girl deviled, “but I know where, here,” she put out her palm, “that ****** glow is the heart of mine; take it, it is only our own warmth you will find. Let us be it. Only Be. Shade the other rays, for the other way to leave."
       She goes to hand the boy her heart, the boy abducting his hand to his side, distracted with the sun falling from the sky.
       “Oh, I must be here, here at this solemn lake, when it stills,” lightening and thunder from yonder occur, “Locomotion accompanying rain like pillars plummeting into walls capturing you and I becoming the storm’s echo. You may know where it is hiding, however, you will never go to where it is hidden.” each word pulsating from the boy’s mouth, his vision lost in the horizon of the sun burning out like a cigarette’s amber, “If I could only flick dawn into an astray and always be this high, then I would devour that glow in the palm of yours.”
       Tips of leaves sink to point to the ground, the sky begins to cry, and the boy and girl mourn.

PAGE ONE SIDE TWO

            “What the **** are we doing here, we, well I, must leave!” deep breathes in between each word as he spoke, “the air is dry, I can tear off the skin of an idol, spit up a song verbatim, ***** visceral vanity all over your tired hand.” The boy softly said, “To say that I care my dear.” Before the boy could finish all noise in the park inverted, causing sparkling wormholes splashed across the fields and meadows, slices of the moon shimmer on the rounded puddles. “I feel rested, well,” the boy paused, “the surroundings are spoken easy, calmed,” resonating, “calm, only small, smaller than the other."
          "Once… no only once I was told I was cold!  Consummate partner in your parallax! Whirlpool mirage, muddy pupils in the pits of hell, where at least? Is it scene that they are truthful devils?" The girl asked, “You must know, **** it!”

PAGE TWO SIDE ONE

The boy cried, he bellowed out killing, the sound killed,
whistles of felicity disguised in
a distant tree planted far, far over
on sides of mountains, where birds play a poet, creating, projecting the outcome of  this universe evolving, stepping-up the eardrums to shake… vibrate… create...
       "Noo…" the girl held herself under a tree with leaves stealing her. Roots absorbing her warmth, using it to darken the amassing shade, she’s dead, she’s a ghost now.
Killed while the sound killed, she's alone, holding herself, chancing upon her own to keep her memory alive.
       “Heed her advice, heed her owns. Draw pictures of her, with her face clear, photograph her face filled with tears.” The boy facetiously said.

PAGE TWO SIDE TWO

       "Oh, oh, I was a ****** fool, ******. It's graying out, the skies are dispersing, splitting into bluffs, let's go inside, forget about all of this.” The boy diverted.
    “Boy drops dead! Boy is dead!" the girl sedately said, "BOY IS DEAD BOY DROPS DEAD." She said, "lie down, grab hold of your chain, I will hold you no more, I hold only till I warm."
      "Chained? The links I combined on my own, with only you dragging me along. I'll speak easy, hang from this chain where I belong, and carve my epitaph into withering bark. I’ll starve until you deciduously leave this bright park." The boy’s eyes shutting as he fawns his final plight.
Boy dies changing his shoes.
Girl dies draped across roots.