Polyrhythms & sunny synths
rippling across the surface
of a blue lagoon as we are guided
to ascend by an enlightened
soul with the force of a typhoon.

Tinkling melodies & shining stars
gracing through the galaxies
within our hearts, pacing
in circles as it all continues
to lovingly fall apart.

Good vibes & joyous moments
take us all on a mystical journey
through the folds of time
as we flow through the waters
of golden beaches so divine.

What wonderful luck to be alive,
coexisting with the beauty
of a land touched by starlight.
An uplifting sea of memories
surfaces as nostalgia subtly sways
through the summer leaves,
floating upon a gentle breeze
giving way to an easy night.

Fickled, fluttering of synths
Loop, lush, repeat
These fragments compliment my simple thoughts
My darting eyes craving to digest color and spectacle
I dance, obsess, whilst smoking my smoke as the separation between darkness and rejoice blur in an ever continuous ***** from below.

her name was Grace
daughter of the school's nurse
but in the sophomore locker room
after phys ed the boys called her Tubesock
because she was
known to take a foot or more into
her superhuman mouth from time to time
& my time was a quiet wednesday afternoon
when school let out early
for a faculty meeting & no one
was left in the administrative wing
except their children

"I want you to possess me"
she led me a trembling ape
into a medical supplies closet
full of gauze & the scent of latex
(the latter curiously adding girth to my ******* for years since)
i must've been dreaming or
i'd found the ideal mixture
of breakfast
vitamin capsules
& perfect stride during my daily phys ed mile
because good god she was down on her little red knees
incredible mouth already on **** through pants
unbuttoning them swiftly with one hand
actual tongue
actual girl
actual sweet lips
actual ****
which she then quickly released
from a too-small sports bra
during the hardening of the meat slug
slipping it smiling in/out of her mouth-soul
in my head i could only hear
synths
screaming saxophones
bass drums
maracas
permeating percussion rhythm
the closet a dark conch shell
resonating shifting vibrating
like the uncarpeted floor of a dance hall

proud, brave Tubesock taking my pink *****
in as far as it would go
radiating like a sun
teeth to tonsil
cheek to collarbone
with a deep southern-gospel choral hum
vertical as a sword-swallower
performing under a streetlamp horizon
my legs silent & stiff as she sang into it
glancing up at me at the base
making the smallest choking sound/lady like
fumes of her own ****** arousal blooming/flower like
into my nostrils from her scarlet tights
her left hand
holding my coin purse/doorknob like
gently pulling twisting kneading
her right hand
inside her own self
seeking a fire or some source of heat
in the drafty dark closet

when i came too quickly
(still a victory in my mind)
shooting my cannon smoke
into the midnight of her mouth
adrenalin shivering in my shoulders and throat
my hand locked around a lock
of her crimson hair
she unplugged herself & without wasting a drop
smiled back up at me
returned the unstiffened dagger to the
cold nest of my boxer briefs
but kept kneeling in the dark closet
split in half by the thin crack of light i created
as i emerged among the sound of seven hundred bells
to kiss the soul of revolution
a brand new too-tall man holding a lamb
bigger than god himself
standing on steel pistols for legs
shouting cursing beating my breast
under the sharp fluorescent light of a high school highway

Every razor thin
scarlet slash
is another
broken promise
sparking across a prairie -
Brought to life
as consuming fire
becoming merciless discord
in a broken tooth wasteland -
This upside down world where nothing turned
out and we’re just wandering -
I drift dragging drudgework
fish hook chains
in sidewinder fashion nightmare
searching eternally ****** rivers deprived
of justice on scales and fins -
I'm trying to understand
myself
so I can stand myself
and stand on my own
so nothing owns me
but the last time I saw something real
was you -
You were trapped in a sterile lab coat reverie
your tears stinging traces of honeywine and blackmail -
I remember your hands still so delicate
even with wear from bleach soaked
loyal test subjects -
Those siren voiced synths that are
getting harder and harder to spot
but you showed me how the seed numbers
reveal patterns as revealing
as their camera flash gorgon clothing -
They're just too typically perfect
and in that false perfection
total ugliness -
In the moments not framed by bloodlettings
and love letters
I am ****** to hear the constant rattle
of the existential conundrum corps
Keeping time with a self-loathing decadence -  
Filling my mind as I root
through Faustian bargain bins
trying to reclaim that time
you first let me hold you and
my mind just...


…cleared.

I'm from the
power pink sunsets
    with waving palm trees

I'm from the
bright computer screens
    who illuminate faces

I'm from the
pitched-down music
    with fading synths

I'm not from the 80's,
  nor from the 90's,
But from the 2000's:

I'm dreaming between them,
in reveries who're too ethereal
to describe.

sorry I lied when I said all I want to do is sleep

I haven’t slept in weeks

That’s a lie too of course

I put in an hour or two inbetween

Lying on the floor or in the tub

I hate the cold

But I didn’t used to

And that isn’t romantic

But things do change

Like the way the stars align and how I perceive death

And how I haven’t met my match

The late night is a song with synths

And the moon sings dream pop songs

About love and rest and the gaping holes planted in the sea

What does that even mean?

When it’s 3am you’re in tune with everything

seGment, bona
                                           smUg
                                             grIns,
                                             inTo cuteness.
                                           imAges
                                              aRe


      ­                                      aGgressively ingratiating, as
                                     that pUnctuates feats.
                                            mIllionaire?” model
           building suspense wiTh
                                                And
        ­  thumps, “genius junioR”


                                        a janGly its
                                             soUnd,
                                                rIffs a
                                          big-Tent sideshow.
                              the contestAnts
                                               aRe

                      introduction seGment, in
                                  cross smUg
                                               grIns, if
                                               inTo
                       cuteness. the imAges
                                             of aRe


                                               aGgressively
                                       that pUnctuates feats.
                                    “who mIllionaire?” model
        of building suspense wiTh
                                      synths And bludgeoning
                            “genius junioR” offers


                                        a janGly
                                       its soUnd,
                                               rIffs like
                                         big-Tent sideshow.
                             the contestAnts
                                               aRe production


                                                    ­        seGment, which
      memberships, memories, kids smUg
                                                            ­  grIns, as
                                                              ­ inTo
                                      cuteness. the imAges the
                                                         kids aRe


                                            aGgressively as
                                    that pUnctuates
                                    to a mIllionaire?”
                                          wiTh synths
                                               And thumps,
                         “genius junioR”


                                          janGly its
                                            soUnd,
          ­                                     rIffs like a
                                          big-Tent sideshow.
                              the contestAnts
                                                aRe the as

When I heard your jazz improvisation
I craved the taste of a fine confection
Your synths were the flame that roasted my heart
Drunk with the notes, your sweet wine collection

Once mingled,
free-floating piano tunes
and
sun-harshed highway
could be a match.
The Light Rail
took its time on the causeway,
I am a passenger,
safely guarded from the
unapologetic summerness
like tourists from the safari park.
I am a outrageous punk,
perching onto handrails
lost in his romantic dream of an
impossible summer. Romeo and Juliet in my hand.
Vehicle garages rusting
along palm trees lined
railway.
This is Yuen Long. This is the outskirts
with gated dogs with feral barks,
this is a compromise between bungalows and nature.
Piano symphonies morphed into
eighties tunes
in the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack album,
and the eighties synths
draws the archived mystics,
out from avenues
that leads to villas similar to those I have sojourned.
And the world as I see it, it is beautiful.