Not against the peaks of protest, these aurulent banners and jasperated jaspe so so jargoon! It's like I was suddenly alive, beat-stretched out of winter neige and into the pancosmic blisses of bright and ebullient spring, plugged with an agromania to abide this new formidable friend in the aeviternal beauty of she and I togetherness. Never to spill a morsel of a minute away from us again, upon the newly conjured spirits unto us both. To be amidst a cynosure of such affiation, to be in the temperate or tropical gardens whispering about our mutual love for flowers nad lists. This that precedes us, bright colliding auras in this newfound numinous kindling of us two. Watching it, making it happen- it unfolding before me made me naseaus with excitement, dithering what our next move out to be. I just wanted to kiss her face, her cheeks, put our hands together so quickly, just to let our amorous fug fill the room with silver albuminious smoke from our breaths. Miles below this, round the Earth to other places, there are the fixtures of bright and corybantic life commoved by other nations and other poised people of the light, that I should not be idle in my desires to usher myself into this grand and briguing introduction. So she said, we will play the question game, the inquiry game, we will state the mark, draw upon deep and fantastical recall, bring from our minds the most immense truths and share them, no matter now feral, or caustic, or melancholy- they will be shared until we explode with each other, our intrigues wrapped in our perfervid and amatory excitedness for one another. Too vast with wonder to be afraid of- am I such a fiend for such resplendence. That we could be vitrified in eternity in a veil of fulgurite. So at this nightfall, this acronychal of bloviating bliss, to write and wonder, incessantly in the finest of provincial matters to settle this garden where Thetis lives to be of her, two philocalists in verdant pasture, heaped with matters of the pen and the palm, in the droves of this beautiful advesperating eve- where first I wrote to you, and then I wrote you back.

I wake to the sound of helicopters again. Ive been sleeping more than usual; trapped in this in between state, not quite awake, yet not quite asleep. I stumble through my days in a haze of hash and dreams. Today i dream that im a man made of television signals sitting on the moon watching the earth and sun die. Tomorrow i dream my skin is blue and made of tiny pieces of faberge, constantly in a state of flux. Being shifts and moves with every emotion, displaying its anguish through skin like a shriveled leaf in the relentless dry light. Or its pulsating with life in its heart. Grinding and passing with an excitedness only matched by two lovers in the embrace of a blind passion. They are alive- the faberge that is. I do my best not to own my cube parts as they do not belong to me.I struggle to find an I. Awake i am numb. Feeling has lost all duality and there is left only "a" Feeling.

I wake up.

Stumbling, drunk on delta waves, animal kicks in. Life easy. **** first. In process of *******. White dog in bathroom with me. It run to window. It escape.

Lucidity returns........ and i am still in bed. Three figures are standing over me. I'm paralyzed and the only breath on the air is a fear that is unusually thick and warm. The mind is wrought with an animal anxiety yet a conscious mind remains- confused. Afraid; it rejects and i....

I wake up in a thick sweat. My breath is heavy and a dull paranoia remains from a night of heavy dreaming. As if moving through soup i push myself out of bed and make my way to the kitchen for a glass of water. Im shivering and fear is licking my skin, yet i don't remember ever having any reason to be afraid. I bite my lip and the familiarity of pain reminds me that im in THE absolute. The bleakness of reality begins as my brain starts its daily chatter, soft, like birds in the early hours of morning.
Her majesty Sky holds a blanket of pink and oranges over her chin, nuzzling the ***** of the cosmos, begging for one more kiss from that fantastical night.

The Present -

She had both arms behind her head,
Her eyes two focused machines,
The soft glow of the lamp light,
A nonfiction book she silently reads.

Just as the clock striked ten,
All trails of thoughts fell silent,
She slept in the middle of the bed,
The sheets smelling of detergent.


- Two Years Earlier -

Twelve o'clock, the digital clock read,
Every light was on in her apartment,
She turned on the right side of the bed,
And stared at the plain cream carpet.

She tried reading something,
But every corner of this place was so unwelcoming,
As if remnants of the past resident souls
Still loomed around, their presence pestering.

With her new keys clutched in her hand,
She so quietly closed her front door,
Once her lungs were filled with fresh air,
It's like she finally reached a shore.

Aimlessly she passed block after block,
Till she found herself in a subway station,
She plugged in her earphones and closed her eyes,
Relenting to her doubts and insecurities in their collaboration.

"Laugh, I Nearly Died. Hmm interesting choice." A voice said,
Yanked from the heaviest sleep, she looked startled,
The stranger smiled, "I love The Stones too, I mean who doesn't..."
She smiled, but it was half-hearted.

She learned that he hated U2 and thought they were overrated,
And that he never slept at night, only slept during the day,
He marveled about how beauty dwelled in the darkness,
And how he didn't believe in coincidence, rather in fate.

At first she was quite, studying his every gesture,
Uncertain of this sudden turn of events,
But she soon found herself relaxing,
Not anymore keeping track of the time they spent.

He commented on how she looked nervous,
She confessed that she has moved into a new place,
And as the stars were lead to be more astray,
They were stargazing at the night's endless race.

The first rays of the sun revealed her lighter shade of hair,
They never once stopped talking as they roamed the streets,
Dawn whispered with promises of a shared breakfast,
But he suddenly smiled once then looked at his feet.

"I don't believe in cell phones, here is my email, do you know how to write an old-fashioned letter?"

He punctuated his sentence with a grin,
And it matched the growing one on her lips,
She was eager to agree but held inside her over-excitedness,
With a nod, she mumbled a yes and took back one step.

Flecks of orange reflected in his eyes,
She memorized their resemble to gold,
And suddenly all she wanted was to sleep,
And relent to her dreams as her reality revolts.


- The Present -

It was ten to six, she'd just returned home,
She sank in her warm couch, pulling her cat in her lap,
The air smelt of her favorite herbal tea,
She heard what felt like the crunch of a paper scrap.

It wasn't a paper scrap, it was something far less significant,
It was the letter, the one she printed and placed inside her diary,
Her cat was the only one to know where the stupid paper laid,
A reminder of a briskly short-lived story.

She detached her cat from her lap,
And detached the reminder from her heart,
It was easy like that, to unwrite a story,
Only in the folds of her mind was it a part...

"Every sailor knows the sea is a friend made enemy,
And every shipwrecked soul knows what it is to live without intimacy."

She hummed her favorite U2 song.*


T.B.C


(Maybe...)