my girlfriend
told me I needed to sit down
                                                  before hearing it
her sylphlike fingers hovering over
                                                            ­my cut-up cuticles
with eyes hovering past my head
                                                          un­committed
but convincingly connected to my soul
                                                            ­      immovable

just then
Unidentified Flying Objects
                                                crashed into our chat
through the tense atmosphere
                                                   and down to where we sat
their gaze lasting light-years
                                                 and blasting neon beams
into the split ends of my hair
                                                  setting fire to my precious dreams
and splattering brains onto her mini-skirt                                                       ­           
                                                     ­                   it was an ugly affair

to end
if i were alive
                        to recount their excursion
i'd add she stepped over
                                           the ****** matter
hopped aboard the mothership
                                                       with no coercion
and was never seen
                                  without her extraterrestrial lovers
again

We press on forward, there is no going back,
with the menacing presence in our track
cut off we had just no other clear route...
In a desperate act we made our way
through the putrid stench, rot and decay
that embraced and hid us from the pursuit.

And though the Ring Wraiths roam the sky
the marsh did not betray us to scrying eyes
and our quest goes on though hanging by a thread.
We tread with caution among many plights
of this realm governed by entrancing lights -
as if revenants of the warriors long dead,

who haunt and taunt us with piercing stares
from every and all of the murky meres
like wet open graves scattered around.
The submission comes at a harrowing cost.
A moment of weakness and we'd be lost
to the enchanting spell of the drowned.

Their pale faces beyond the turbid shroud
either evil and grim, or fair and proud
all harbor a foul and twisted spark.
Long gone are the souls of both elves and men
Only these hungering husks now remain
On guard for a new prey in the dark.

Countless paths and yet just one leads out.
I'm being riddled with despair and doubt
as we're passing through the lasting haze;
in between the burden I barely abide.
and the uncertain whim of our guide,
will we ever emerge from this shifting maze?

A cemetery filled with tombstones everywhere
Even though their lives never existed
And she wrote their lives to be a never-ending tragedy
And maybe it would've changed if they coexisted

They went on so many adventures in her mind
Even if it was just to escape reality
And she then began to lose track of time
Lost in her own mentality

She erased their stories as she got older
But never against her they rioted
And no one could ever scold her
Because they had been quieted

But she still grieved when she thought about them
And she cried over their non-existent tombs
And she wondered what they could have become
If she let them live for infinite moons

If you look closely into the late night
You can see a girl holding a rose of fiction
And if you look deeper, you can see she might
Put it on a grave with no inscription

"For your body, I shall give
Beauty and body anew respired .
It shall shine from all your soul and heart
Take the shape that others desire.

All I ask in return,
A simple thing in all duress
You wear this body, fashioned for you
Fashioned of gore and my shadow glass."

I’m taking control, making changes.
Some for the worst, others for the best.
I don’t like to evade or retreat.
My secrets are inconsequential.
I’m taking things into my own hands
- I kissed my therapist. On the lips.
Life is but a game of ‘Smash or pass’
and I hate waiting for ice cream.
“I like the way you move,” he said, “I like your skin.”
“It’s what people notice first” I admitted, “want to see it?”
Or maybe I dreamed that - I dream about him, sometimes. shrug
I think the helpless, astringent, professional intimacy fires me.
I want him to ask me about my jerkwater *** life, he has a concomitant
passport, but he never does. Isn’t that important - what about Freud?
What do you think you inherited from your parents? He asked.
“What a question!” I observed, “You mean genetically?”
“Come on,” he prompted, and I thought for a long minute.
“I have my mother’s impatience, her drive to succeed
and her thick blonde hair that seems to dry instantly.”
He nodded, indicating he liked where I was going.
“I have my father’s eyes, his flashing temper and flat chest.”
He chuckled, but I could tell he wanted me to stay serious.
“Then there’s my Stepfather (Step), he taught me humor,
patience and self-control - oh, and how to drive.”
He ****** on his pencil eraser and nodded.
He always blurs the line between performance and approval.
.
.
Songs for this:
Secrets (Your Fire) by Magdalena Bay
The Spot by Your Smith

A drink; a drink,
Another for me!
And one overboard
For the God of the sea!

A drink; a drink!
Another for me!
A vision of ***,
A truth for me!

A drink; a drink!
Once more for the gods!
O, safe keep our ship,
From the men of the odds!

A drink; a drink,
Poseidon, he falls!
Dionysus insists;
His brother; he calls!