shadows are born from light,
but darkness is not the absence of sight
so follow the stars in their endless flight,
O child of the night.

where light meets the shade
is where the journey begins,
with no horizon the eye can see
so too the boundless feeling within.

As comes the night
And the stars shine
We sit in our balcony
And switch on the fairy lights.
We talk all night long
And maybe banter in between,
A smile playing on our lips
Never seeming to disappear
Yet remaining unseen.
It's relatively cold
But we don't feel the chill,
Because our hearts are warm
And our eyes so bright,
That would dim even the moonlight.

father  said
you should
only dream
with open eyes
to see clearly
the rays of lies
dreams are only
made for sleep
not for day
nor light to seek
keep your dreams
beside your bed
and a candle lit
inside your head
keep it there
and keep it where
vision withers
for  no light
redeems or
day delivers
your dreams
once your dead

his own & this world's realities are like the fuzz in the States
they're ones to escape
that's a plan of attack that's, on the lines of a wraith
switch side of Jo[ɑ]hhny dang Blaze, running up on his brain
like that Trump ****, today
he feels bold (bald), so maybe there'll be, like abundance of cake
fortune coming his way
["fortis fortuna adiuvat"/"fortune favors the bold"]
this one's a shmuck thing to say, but the club's like Ukraine (what?)
he, like motorized cavalcades
from the next-door empire, invades
its territory causing, like unaccommodating controversial writer, a sla[ɛ]m
as he shuts the door frame
[Eminem; "Unaccommodating" song]
obviously, some people may
find that offensive like armed aggression
so my apologies, I'm somewhat ashamed
mainstream house stuff is on play
a thought in his skull: "this is lame"
Michael S. straight after he turned around & stumbled on blamed
Toby F.; through the crowd he cuts like a blade
[the ending of the "Frame Toby" episode cold open from "The Office" series]
having hopped U̲p on the stage
as if it were a narcotic substance you've ta'en
he, so loud as if with his cullions in grave
nU̲t-wrenching pain, bawls "THIS ****** *****!" like a brace
of thigh highs colored with stains of blood; yanderE̲[eɪ]
[*****; so[ɑ]cks]
schoolgirl; disgruntled, he makes for the f#cking DJ
delivers a verbal punch in his face by the fo[ɑ]llowing phrase
"go house-sit with your confounded
boring house sh#t, like a housewyf"
whereafter thrusts him away
rounding the assault off with "ciao, drip!"
music-wise, things are gon' go hard as nuts in this place
as if a flock of ones who're deranged
["who're" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "whoor"]
swung by a club in the wake of a ****** **[ɑ]spital break (nuts in this place)
he puts on midtempo dark cyberpunky synthwave
Gesaffelsteinish mid-paced
type of music; that's what drives his crumpet insane
speaking of crumpets, he spots a buxomish babe
while keep rocking his **** nut to this cray
music, he feels like a **** being aimed
at for she stands with her sight, like one of a gun, fixed his way
for a few secs, at each other they gaze (call it eye fool–ing around)
[eyeful]
she's quite a fox with her vibrant locks
reminding of flame; somebody call a fire brigade
hourglass-shaped & rigged out in tight pa[ɛ]nts & a blouse
with a U̲-neck, like a male without
*****, & leaving her waist a bit out
[******]
on display; he makes his way to/makes for that frau
salutates her with "ciao", then, in a shake, he enoun–
–ces: "babe, you're way like a house
for lodging that's nowhere to be found
that is, in the deep of a labyrinth"
she's like "what in the void's name's this about?"
he replies "I'ma translate that one now"
"you look amazing, ten out
of ten" like that "KleanColor" skin bro[ɑ]nzer
[a maze inn; "Tan Out Of Tan"]
she makes a slight smile
says "aren't you nice with this 𝒷ℴ𝒸𝒸𝒶 of Y̲O̲U̲rs when it
comes to venting the skull?"
he asks this glorious bI̲rd if she
fa[ɛ]ncies this sound
she chirps an affirmative
says she, mostly, faves underground
in terms of music; they vibe
to these tunes being pU̲t on, just like (who?)
that loony gobshite the whole liberal community'd like
to see wind up ruined just like
Aleppo or Mariupol; stop, I'd
like, before the main telling resumes, to rewind
a little: they vibe to these beats being put on; he finds
out, when asking her what drinkable fluid she'd like
to have, that she deems it uncool to imbibe (*****)
he replies "to tell you the truth, so do I"
so if there's somebody to wI̲[ɪ]nd up lit during this night
it is the moon in the sky
[some body]
after having their soft drinks taken, they bounce
like the music style brought into this wO̲rld heaps before chicks twerking
blew into the mainstream like "blaow!"
[hips]
he's got a whip ordered like a sick pervert
with a kink for power-playing around/dominative kind of playing around
they wait for several mins for it while it's pouring
finally, the motorized conveyance comes out
like a deb girlie
[debutante]
he trails this fox like she's prey to hunt down
watching her proceed to[–]ward it
in a way like she's on a catwalk waving around
a rig splurgy
having hopped in it, to a lodging place they set out
she's soaking wet like she's real *****, yet still hot as if she wE̲re dict–
–ator; the saucy look in her eyes
[haught; verdict]
once his palm is put on her thigh
sort of a luminous sign–
–board reading "absolutely alright
with going on a lewd spree tonight"

today my mates and i passed supper up fourth avenue,
and on the way there
i broke the safe to my stashed uppers of our former rendezvous...

the streetlights and open windows lining the view
felt much more
complete with unbroken handholds coming from you...

t'was then i knew i missed walking the night with no one but you.
perhaps we can get
us let in new tourist walking sites and have some done for two...

Through a tunnel I walk.
Stumbling upon the demons I stalk.
Straining to understand their words.
Yet afraid of what their message may hold.
The walls and path are all ablur.
As further along I do blunder.
Stumbling and falling,
To rise once more.
Searching for a magical door.
To release me from this caliginous gambit.
Then the goblins and trepidation omit,
To deliver me anew to the suns bright glare.
And release me once more from the captivity of despair

As shadows begin to engulf,
The hues that come from a well lit day.
From the multicolored palette,
Pastels turn to gray.
Shadows are forming ,
It's near the end of day.
But still,
In the eve's half light,
I spy the glimmering ,
A floret of white.
The first to catch the new mornings rays,
And the last to show through the darkening haze.
And so it cycles from light to dark.
The familar becomes unknown,
And place's of refuge,
Are now a gambit to run.
The darkness seems to lessen the gap,
That the dawn had once split wide.
But all's the same
'Cept the loss of light.
And maybe just a tiny fright
From the circuition,
This will pass.
To convert  the obscurity to comprehension.
And so reveal,
It's all a trick of the mind's eye.