Had a dream that
Bob De Niro
And
I
Stole a car.
We cruised the
California
Coastline.
It ended in L.A.
It ended abruptly.
And
Freud
Would have a
Field day.
I’d
Simply smile with
The sunrise.

~~
Catch you in the dreams
an unconscious thought
conscious gives up
all the desires go in vain
just only come and go

what will be your noun
what's the adjective
even where your existence
either in the unknown space
or disappeared

In front of the empty
but images in the bean
revolving wheel of time
between the light and shadows
have seen the dream

As if I found you
known in the mystic land
pushes the conscious passions
even in the subconscious illusion
Comes an unconscious thought
~~
@Musfiq us shaleheen

A sala inerte é o meu reino:
Quente, estranho
Num cheiro de fel e sêmen que desidrata todo alvéolo ******>
E Eu sou o diabo:
Frio, habitual
Condenado à prisão da luxúria, da lombeira

Espasmado engasgo-me no meu retrato de LCD
Nos botões do controle remoto
Nos meus olhos que coçam, pois não vejo

E como se só, já não bastasse o inferno
Os anjos com metralhadoras eretas
Vêm consumar o meu desleixe

Pois como mago que sou
Desarmo-os com meu falo movido a pilha
E rio-me de tristeza, pois era a guerra que eu ansiava

Rendidos, entram pela porta dos fundos
Trêmulos, sentam-se ao meu lado no sofá
E carnudos, macios e úmidos e corruptos se convertem

Porque Eu quero.

Years later
Bathsheba's psychiatrist
Was analysing the tryst
Between King David
And her.


It was no tryst
Said she.
What a slur.
He was a ******
And an opportunist.


An amoeba would concur
Said the psychiatrist
That a shower screen
And being more demure
Would have been
Quite spiritually enterprising.


You cannot expect
Kind David to desist
From objectifying your femurs
And a cracking pair of amethysts.


Don't treat me
Like some calculating
Hormone Exchange Unit
You sexist misogynist.


You are not fit
To analyse me.


You say your name's Freud
But you're wholly devoid
Of any insight
Of what is amiss
Or my troubles might be.


Not one piece of grit
Have you put in my oyster.
You obsequious churl
I'm a girl you don't mess with.


I could have you hung.


But instead she dismissed him
and booked an appointment
With a certain professor
Who went by the name of
Carl Gustav Jung.

When she told me she loved me
I didn't believe her.
So i killed myself instead.
A fairy came to me & whispered enticing secrets in my ear.
He outlined a closet upstairs
where I live alone inside my head.
Tidal waves of white roses grow in & out my of spine.
Suffocating the fishes prancing in a field of raving vines.

Lunar Lullaby plays hopscotch in a cloud of flies.
She licks cherry red ice pops & sings bird hymns to oak trees withering in the wuthering skies.  
Swarming dragon-lies fly in lakes upon Monet's canvas.
There he paints a beauty of Thumbelina whose grave resides in the darkest corner of my empty heart.

A red cape looms above & flutters without wings.
My cave is growing vaster
And so I sail amongst its seas.
This Psychosis is no more wearing thin than Rigor Mortis can begin.
I'll live sedentarily as a maid serving rotten apples to men chained as apes.
A lotus will float on by down this bloodstream & into the night.
As a crater on the moon your corpse died suddenly as when fruit bloom.

Don't come over.
I've gone into Psychosis & shan't wake up.
I don't how long I'll be
But it is not your face I want to think of.
I swear this is not game nor reverse psychology!
As I shout hysterically at the moon
Who betrayed the sun for its perpetuating fear of noir.
A shadow will write a prescription for all to be well.
I'll take it twice a day, medicating this soul
rambling to be let out of its cage.