Come on baby, decide.
Feel these colours without their light.
Choose your path, leave your steps behind.
Throw The Doors open and breach the other side.
Be definitive in your choice,
In this design.

Our fascination
with these compounds:
The amps, the tryps;
The sensation, experience.
They amphlify emotion,
We tryp over the empirical.
Come on, what are you waiting for? (The sun!)
This galaxy was meant for us; born.

I cant stand silence anymore.

All it does is amphlify
all the worse thoughts in my mind
bounce along the walls and echo
such a cacophony of metaphysical sound
that my body cringes.

Alone, that inner dialogue of infection
steps away from the recess and whispers.
And alone, the sound carries.

Sleep is impossible without a fan
and the AC is loud enough downstairs
that sitting alone is only miserable.
I stretch out and my eyes find my phone,
distraction a short term remedy but no...

I remember the sound of your fan
sitting in the door of your room,
our bodies intertwined, skin on skin
the warmth forming sweat that ran
like your cat across the room, the maniac.

I remember the sound of your AC,
you so proud that your new place had it,
sweet symphony to your ears, a pleasure
that spread like my legs and the cold rush
drowned out by the heat of you inside me.

I recline back in darkness, AC clicking on
images rushing past, hunger churning.
Too sad to eat, too tired to sleep - nonsense

Nonsense that something so small, normal
meant so much and could cause all this.