Last night was the first time I ever froze with fear,
looked into the Mirror my reflection wasn't there,
reached in like Neo into a pure Abyss,
nearly screamed when a hand grabbed me by the wrist

I'm a STRONG man-but this pull was relentless,
like fighting the Tide I knew it was hopeless,
so like Alice I took a deep breath and let go,
and got pulled into a room,similar to my own,

but WRONG in every sense of the word
it was a Gateway,Doorway to another World
and as I slipped in- SOMETHING ELSE SLIPPED OUT
it looked just like me but both eyes were mouths
full of Hunger and Wrath and an endless Hate,
I screamed as I thought of my family's fate,
as the Monster made it's way across the tiles,
it turned,licked its lips and gave me one... last... **smile

We live in parallel worlds,
you on your journey and I on mine.
We wander in our own routes
in separate paths.

So why do your words elate me?
Your messages are like threads
connecting points in my journey to yours.

We are pinging signals across boundaries.
Making sure we are travelling along the same orbit?
Side by side, and you’re still with me?
Does that assure you or me?
Because though parallels walk side by side
they’ll never meet.

“Two possibilities exist: either we are alone in the Universe or we are not. Both are equally terrifying.”
That's Arthur C. Clarke.
My wife always believed we are not;
She was convinced we are not alone.
11 months ago,
My sweet wife said to me,
“Wouldn’t a pair of tiny feet
Pattering around the house
Sound so sugary sweet?”
10 months ago,
The doctor told me how
My count was pretty low and
Asked my wife about a bike accident
From when she was 10.
My wife cried a little, and then
At home, she cried
More than I’d ever seen her.
“I don’t want to be alone,” she said,
But I told her we’re never alone,
As long as we have God.
She told me, in one of the worlds out there,
We are complete.
The ‘S’ in universes keeps her hopeful,
And content.
8 months ago,
I sat in the waiting room
With my sweet wife who had
Been puking and aching for weeks.
The doctor called it a miracle
And said our lonely days were gone.
My wife said she was glad
We weren’t going to be alone,
With just her and me.
7 months ago,
My wife ate right, and exercised,
And sang to her belly, and
Did all of the things
She was told to do;
But it was not enough, because
1 month ago,
My wife — my sweet, lovely wife —
She tripped on the staircase-
That last creaky step I swore I’d fix-
And fell, and bled and bled.
The doctor said he was sorry,
That my wife, she’d be okay, but
That there was nothing to be done
About the young one.
My wife cried much more
Than she had cried 4 months before.
She said she didn’t want to be alone.
“But we are not alone,”
I held her and I said,
“We have God in our midst,
we are not alone.”
A week ago,
I put out a sign
That declared ‘Garage Sale’
(Unabashedly, as if mocking us)
And lay out a motley of miniature clothes and objects-
Unused cribs and
Tiny, unworn shoes.

One day ago,
I said all the right things,
And loved and supported her,
And held her through her tears, but
Right now, as I cry
More than I’ve ever cried before,
And ask why I couldn’t be enough,
She is packing up her trunk,
Saying she can’t take it, saying
*“I just want to be alone.”

The US will drive like the rest of the world,
And declare peace on the Middle East for all times ahead;
Good films and books will be successful;
And punk’s not dead.

Justin Bieber will bottom all the charts; Pink Floyd'll be back together;
Bond will like his martinis stirred, not shaken;
Race, gender, class and orientation will be nonsense words;
And there’ll be no sequels to Taken.

Teenagers will fawn reading Tolstoy and not Meyer;
Old, black men will order the "extra whip, non-fat, caramel latte, venti;"
Art galleries will be closed to people over 21;
And poets will feature in the Top 20.

There will be equal jobs and opportunities for everyone;
Humans will give up on colonising mars and the moon;
We will bring down the imperialistic, capitalist, racist, misogynistic hetero-patriarchy;
And you will love me, tonight at noon.

We are not just similar
We are parallel !
In this cruel world of all kinds of vectors
It's either an invariable distance
Or a fully superposed confusion
No single intersection
And we lie there
stubborn and hopeless
Craving a translation

We are not just similar
We are parallel !
Our limits confined to a single plane
As life flows in all directions
We miss the marvels around us
In every remaining dimension
And we lie there
Blind and shameless
Craving a translation


Louder words
Barely heard
Answers clouded by blur of ignorance
Questions falsely trigger negative emotion
Chaos in misplaced transference
As mazes form from conversation
And we lie there
Deaf and clueless
Craving a translation

Not even a cascade of tears
Can bend us to converge
Tried turning the other cheek
We failed again to merge
Until one day, we exhaust our energy
Shields get broken, armor gets heavy
Only our inner demons left unstained
But they decided to flee our weak body
So we **** the pride with a suffocating hug
Bend the frown with a devastating kiss
Poison the anger by our cleansing drug
We let go of our ego, off to our bliss
And we lie there
Victorious and united
Achieving a translation

Then days go by as we oscillate
to the finish line in this dance of fate
We survive, it seems
We relive on the extremes
Aligned in happiness
or divergent in depression
In mystical perfection
or in catatonic emptiness
Stubborn and stiff
Blind and deaf
Clueless, shameless, hopeless
Craving irreversible translation

But we are not just similar
We are parallel !

~Epic Monkey

I've had to discard my watch
And duct tape my clocks
Into a black electrical silence

Time is never enough
And with him,
I wish it'd stop
Completely

Over the tabletop
Nothing to do
They're lonely and empty
From not touching you

They lounge and they dance
They tap and they wait
But your skin's not there
And they anticipate

The day that they'll find
The touch that they crave
On the hips of the one
Who they intend to save

And meanwhile, my heart
waits on and forever, stuck
swinging like my fingertips
without love's luck

if there is ever a parallel universe,
i want to exist in serenity with you,
there and forever.
complete utopia,
devoid of all negativity,
my lust for you expands eternally.
i would sacrifice my cohesion,
my solidity,
my utter being,
to simply exist within your comfort.

The night is young
new
beautiful
silent
joyous

It holds so many opportunities, and just as the flower who only opens her petals when the moonlight embraces them, so I am parallel.

I thrive in the night. It is my time, my hour, my seconds that only I have dominion over as I rise from the petals of my bed and am lit by the candlelight.

The waves of glow bounce off my nightgown slowly, slowly, and the undulating satin reverberates off my long legs as it dances with the faint breeze flowing through my room. I smile weakly.

Moving to the window, I can see for miles- a stretch of green quilting left there by God and his court, the velvet of the stitching vibrant in the light of the pale moon. It is unfinished.

The candle in the sill below me wanes slightly, and I blink. Reaching down, my fingers touch wax and guide it to my lips.

Fire reflects in my eyes the passion I have for such nights, for the silence that is filled with the deafening meekness of night sounds, for the musky, dark scent of my attic bedroom, from the taste of the faint dust lining the air.

I sigh, and smoke infiltrates my nostrils quietly, without invitation but without respite. The light is gone. My fingers quiver as I hold the wax, cold and lifeless now, and I sigh again. Quieter.

The night is brand new. I have only to light but one more match in order to explore it more fully. There is naught I cannot do when I hold in my hand this sheen that will light the recesses of the dark that haunt my room. My life. My eyes. And my fears.