The night opens like an ancient book
all the lovers sleep under a crimson moon
there is a dream that becomes another dream
hurt and joy begin to melt into multicolor scales
pain and faith dance the chant of life
all the music is a different obscurity

must bear the weight of the channels of the mind
dark voids of stars exploding like candles in the dark
all beauty is cold, I can smell her parfume
cosmic restlessness and radioactive corrotion
solar flares and pitchful black light of a tousand suns
time folds itself by the passing of the spirit of Death

we hear trumpets in the sky
hideous symphony of sickness
foul smell of nausea drags on the soil
strange and unpleasent hallutinations
fill with the Nature of psychotropic womb

and I can hear a lament faraway:
"O Lord, give me a sing, send me a message!"
but there was no response, there was no God listening
is life a labyrinth of equations and sequences?
just lost numbers and imaginary answers
Destiny is joking around, Luck has been dead for years.

Discharged outlet,
Putrid vapours released,
Asphyxiating, foul scent.

Listen you all,
Big or small,
To the words of a fellow human,
To whom my thoughts are only blooming,

With my eyes I see,
People smile with glee,
With my eyes I observe,
People who constantly live on nerve,

With my ears I listen to,
Some speak of affection that grew,
With my ears I hear,
Words that make me shead a tear,

With my nose I find the scent,
Of every love letter I've sent,
With my nose I smell,
The odors of hell,

With my tongue I speak,
Of all the good times that happened this week,
With my tongue I talk,
Of things that I mock,

With my hands I touch,
Everything that I like so much,
With my hands I feel,
All the pain I can't heal,  

On being human,
It's living,
As a breathing,
Contradiction.

I'm wearing the t-shirt you left.
It was stuffed in the corner of my room.
In a small space between the bed and the wall.
It emits the scent of your skin.
And embodies the softness of your hands.
It reminds me of how your arms don't begin to tan until just below your elbows.
I fill my palms with it's fabric and breathe in deeply.
I think I can smell sweat.
It rested on the bridge of your nose last night.
Dripped down into your tear duct.
I looked at you as I came into the room, you were laying on your stomach with the blanket wrapping you like a cocoon.
We fell asleep, but occasionally I would wake to the sensation of your lips on my shoulder blade.
I remember feeling something in my stomach.
I remember wishing you would kiss me good morning.
Don't say 'adieu'.

If you would see me,

You'd notice me looking at you at any chance I get.

If you would hear me,

You'd notice me talking to you at any chance I get.

If you would smell me,

You'd notice me staying my best for you at any chance I get.

If you would feel me,

You'd notice me shaking over being with you at any chance I get.

If you would kiss me,

You'd notice that I'd been waiting to do this at every chance I get.

We crawl into a book,
slipping in between print,
wrapping ourselves up in the comforting words.
It sits there waiting,
to invite us to its world,
sad dust collects when untouched.
Beauty in the creators imagination,
thought provoking, sad, happy -
emotions created by print on a page.
The smell of earth and must.
An exciting adventure to happen,
or an old and reliable friend.

Tell me a story, or I won't even blink,
I want you to take me to worlds that I
think I could find beauty in, places
to hide deep within like an inside
joke, or a laugh, or a path
to take into Neverland,
a bridge to Wonderland,
any land
as long as I can have you in it.

Tell me a story, fill my sinuses with stink,
I want to feel the ship I want to smell
the brink of desperation, to feel
a strange, secure, separation to
myself, filled with a wealth of
nonsense knowledge, take me
through foliage and laugh as I
bask in a seething sun,
come on, let's go, I crave fun.

Tell me a story, help me taste a
waste of time, I want to laugh a
rhyme and commit the crime
of uselessness and happiness and
bonkerness and silliness and fun
watch me run into a field of fantasies
tongue sampled teas and
smile at simplicities'
sanctuary.

Tell me a story, and allow me to touch
a part of your mind you let
locked away, darling, parent, sibling,
quibbling cognitive miser
tell me a story and you'll end up
wiser for knowing it, for imparting
it, let's party it and part with the
sweetest words of goodness,
I could hear from you

To be **continued

Watch as the words are left to savor
Listen as the room mystifies
Smell as until it can be felt
Taste as it lingers in the silence
Feel as the aroma wafts around you.