the wilds - my eyes focus on a fragmented figment a magnificent magnification of my dreams, it’s enigmatic, electrifying, enchanting - bogged in a dismal murky muck of lost hope, worn splendor, a broken down, lonely deserted caboose waiting for a jolt, i watch my happiness, & my fulfillment steam away as i grow rusty and dilapidated - forgotten about - but as this fragmented figment magnifies magnificently, i feel the warmth, melting my heart of rusted metal, and loosening the hinges on the doors, as the figment enters the doors, i feel fear and terror, but blissfulness and amorous, i will be rebuilt again, and you’re the one, rebuilding my heart, my soul, and this dilapidated metal frame. Shape me and break the smoldering mold for me to be yours, so i am just that, yours.

My darling boy,
The real one. The real thing and all.
A figment of my imagination but in my (tiny) self I hold.
You.

There is much awe in my city, my dear, but you are the skyscraper. Much joy in my world, but you are the bubbles, clumsily blown by a three year old.  Much wonder in my life, but you are my eyes when fireworks are set off. There is much music, but you sing a different song, of other lives lived, of sisterhood, of soul mates, of brothers, of lovers. Once again, we are.

It had been so long and on your descent, your landing, your smooth slip through Heathrow’s arrival gates (the home of my memory hidden in its ink)
I felt myself climb
Back into you
In the strongest, yet weakest way
Possible
Now you must rest. Go home to your mother and sleep til you wake.

Those days later
I watched you step out of that car
And as if in swift teamwork, my body was broken and healed at once.
I watched you cascade, so graciously, towards the bell ringers.
The people, your people
Your girls – full of anger, heavy wombs and hurricane.
I whispered, under my breath, ‘thank you, I love you’ and became
Me
You arrived and left without a ******* your arm – because, the truth is, you could never have anyone on your arm
Not even
You

My olive tree
The fruits of my loves labour never lost
A middle aged woman’s warm self among metallic scratches and blips.
A photograph – taken just before
Half of your face
Filling the whole page.

I will write to you
For you
As yours
Daily
And at the end of each I will
Whisper, under my breath, ‘thank you, I love you’

Thank you
I love you
Scorpio x

As I go to sleep
Dreams come knocking
My subconscious mind
In a rendezvous with me
Am I asleep?
The REM phase kicks in
What do I want to view?
I do not have a choice
I am just a spectator
For another movie
Do I know the cast or crew?
Is it a blockbuster or horror movie?
The conclusion is inconclusive
I may not be a protagonist
Maybe a figment of my imagination
Or, a vivid description of my days events
It requires psychoanalysis
My subconscious mind is in control
Why can’t I have control?
It’s not within my control
I am asleep and my mind is awake
Freud wrote extensively about it-
In the ‘Interpretation of Dreams’
But still, outside our realm of understanding
The symbols and motifs can give clue
Ancient cultures have recorded on clay tablets
But we may not be ever sure
Or maybe the soul is guided somewhere
Or it could be our inner desires
Maybe it’s an unknown world
Where we go out to venture
Let there be beautiful dreams
And dreams that inspire

did i ever
seem like an appealing option
to you?
or was that merely a figment
of my imagination?
what does she have that i don't?
is she more suited for your height?
is she more beautiful than i will ever be?
are her thighs half the size of mine
making it easier for her to wrap them around your waist
as you support her tiny body?
well it hurts.
and i barely know you.
you led me on.
why.

The best figment of the imagination
Is the one where the dreams are actually real
The pessimists line up
Like it's Black Tuesday
To tell you otherwise
Because they've been followed by Pennywise
All their lives
And they can't seem to lose him for good

the first step to letting go is learning to exist. i admittedly, still have not completely let go. no one ever said you had to demonstrate your knowledge, although i'm working at it. when you were there, roadmaps became love letters, the songs you wrote were preludes, flight schedules became the dreams i never spoke about, no one i was close to knew you. as far as they all know, you were a figment of my imagination, and the act of knowing you itself became a test in what i could hold onto by the skins of my soft teeth even once you'd disappeared, once your friends all buried you, and you stopped writing love songs. special occasions no longer sound like your voice. the test was, could i exist without you?

i have written this a thousand times in my head. erased and arranged memories so as not to spoil us. tried to press you into the backs of my eyes like the flowers in the pages of her notebook. and a few weeks back, i stood at the very top of a rope swing, and when i jumped, i stared straight into the churning water all the way down, because all i wanted was to look at you. but this is not a story of getting the things we want so easily. this is not a story of holding your hand, or sleeping in and having late breakfast. this is the paradox of something so strong, that could be so fragile. something that is so raw the universe could only erode it. that love could exist, and disappear so quickly, and i still want to know why no one ever taught you to swim when you were young.

i am on the train. i see a picture of you. "rest in peace" it said. at first i didn't understand. i had talked to you just yesterday. then i do. the sickening sound of your voicemail on repeat. the way you used to call every night, and tonight at seven there is just a silent cell phone sitting in my lap. i think about your baby pictures. the mother and sister you sometimes talk about. the guitars collecting light layers of dust in your empty new apartment. i wonder how they got your kayak back to shore, when you didn't come up for air, and the swing became still over the foaming water. that kayak was as empty as i am. without you, that is very.

they make plans for your funeral, everything is beautiful. everything is in order for you. i get off the train at the wrong stop and run all the way to ami's house, trying to breathe. i am painfully aware of what drowning feels like. i am as transient as us; my existence is a freak accident, circumstantial evidence with a shaky conclusion, two people who can never explain the nature of their affiliation. kierkegaard believed in taking an ethically existing approach, over a cognitive subject. that all single entities can be reduced to singular universal rules. he believed that even when we didn't do it purposefully, cognitive thought forced us into patterns of universal rules. existence is a song we play on repeat, a feeling on loop in our stomachs because a couple of words sucker punched you in the head and you still don't know why. why, is the answer and the downfall. i think what kierkegaard meant is, some things are simply unexplainable, and some things explain themselves, and our very beings switch between these two rules, baffling us, because we are creatures of ethical existence and cognitive thought; we base our actions on human-established concepts of right and wrong, refer to ourselves as "I", live in the present, and yet we also have the capacity to shape ourselves in the future tense. our ability to understand lies in whether we choose to resist or flow with universal patterns as we become part of them in our ethical existence. learning to exist is nothing more than playing chess with a higher power and allowing it to take your king when you're backed into a corner, even if the queen has to play the rest of the game alone. The game has been flipped. Learn to play even when your world turns inside out. you know the queen is your ace, your you, and she has amazing potential. you were not just some figment of my imagination that convinced me to sleep at night. i am so sure of that now.

This morning a tough cookie showed up
I bit down
Treating it like all the others
It was harder than what vision enticed me to believe
Unchewable
I examined the edges
None
No angles, no cracks, no oozing treacle
No dreamy aftertaste
Just outer candy
Just yesterday's choices, hitting me today
Reality
And a pool of more of the same to tread water in
Forever
I want meaning
I want the dream
Before the too tired to care years
Blanket me in wrinkles
Someone: Meaning is sweat
The guru: Meaning is endurance
Me: Meaning is unavoidable
If you caress the pain
That comes along with it
Sweat uncovers joy
And joy brings meaning
The boy is not meaning
He is a figment past
He is real. But he is past
Keep him there
The girl is real.
She could be meaning
But she is a figment future
Leave her there
Like dancing dandelions on a late summer breeze
Aching to get home
Forgetting they left the attachment to ground
Years ago
The candy coated in a message
The message: Stay right where you are
What is...is more than I already have
My life...is the meaning
Treasure found
It was never lost (what was I thinking)
Yes... I've wasted my passion on a lost Buddha
Many times
Yes...I still backwash my pool on a sunny day craving more
But its meaning
Its NOW
And a call to rise above

Being cared for
Here's the  adored door

Inside playing he pours the hearts

So like him the ricochet
Deeply love so cultured
My pearl crochet

Deeply cared about I got you
under my skin
I win your love ticket

The spool of
wool hit the floor
To the extreme
The sensitive mind

  And his feeling like the escapee finding
the higher
religion keeping that in mind
The everlasting  to be cared for or
not to be never lasting like someone
lost its hunger fasting

Waking up deeply recharged or
reproducing to
her neverending fairytale

Much deeper than 69 eye love shades
Deeply cared for beyond his loving
It comes and fades
Like Monopoly  "Godly Sun-Seeker" keeps
passing us
The game of life charades
Like Persian babies their
button nose deeply cared for to cuddle
The warmest meows hug and save

Like flour to sparkle, it deepens
like our mix, a love needs
to be worked on 
 do you really
care to fix?

But sending all the details
the lines soften pale pink rose
I felt your red fire putting
out the coldness fire and ice
To be saved on time
Like the fire chief,  
Acted like a French chef what
a love roue of the hose

Like silk my millennium  milk,
He held my finger but not
to sulk he said buckle up
What firmness and tightness
arm to arm wrestler such
bulk

Never to swear but a little lie 
  Wouldnt hurt my delicate
pinky finger
In her loop with her fur
deeply
Stepped into her mink

He's the frontman
Fresh cut lemon
Yellow sunshine
happy medium

I was wearing my hair middle parted
The picture slide the made man
Tied back my hair was deeply
Smooth talker well conditioned
With what conditions all recollections
But three strikes when you care for
someone you  don't fall out of love

  This world loves to be pampered
Cared about not scouted
All hole marks in the road badly routed
 With tons of work with the question mark?
The sign stayed with her
Deeply care about?

Like a play date let's pretend
You're both a handful
Like beer malt lips
Engraved love in the barrels
To feel deeply loved  he acted
Like the riddler

The beach her eyes were waiting to be reached
Sunset playing the fool marionette overly preached

So I  Bette
Beneath her wings
In the middle of their wed to be isles
The Green Gables emerald rings

Miss spinster-Sara Lee cake
His jeep was all she could take
How it ended up
In Greenwich Village then shipped
To Mystic Seaport Connecticut
The movie cut Cape Cod Massachusetts
The four letters in his pocket
Deeply 1 care 2 about 3 love 4

Needed a jump kickstart
Her breakfast  start of the day
 deeply cared for his way
He stumped over her honey
bunches of oats lips

The website
Go, Daddy acting love silly
The hot fun in the
International city
The UK that's OK
Mr. Bo Jangles spoiled deeply
*** in the City single
Deeply getting hurt
The Sin City

Did he see her progress
All over Twitter
He was so suited but lost
his tie twinkle tweets
Do I really live my life to dare
or deeply care?
I am ****** British give me
my English breakfast teas
for keeps
The King ain't got that swing
She acts too much like the Queen

The Royalty of love sanity
The heaping fine grain sugar spoon

(Duke of Earl gray) Deeply love Thee
But always came way too soon
She is the domestic cat going frantic

Great discoveries, and that's that
  Internships tug-cash or the hogwash
our colleagues  
The deep end "Crazy Eights
On the tenth physio natural
phenomena convent

All the Kingman no swords holding her
wrench
and knight horses unfortunate events
One day creation camel ride for miles
Reaching higher levels of toxins
and morons
Or teaching MLM  you asked for it
"The millionaire lost minds"

Were human TLC tender loving care
Like some playdough to the rooftop
Of Mentors, did they care
Who we deeply care about family
But more concerned
about the rise of money inventors
Even if life really *****
Oh! Fiddlesticks

The Moaning of life
Bring the Idiots aboard
The ***** of the night

He kinda ducks by the end of
your ***-light
Flex-body deeply cared for
Rumors and all philosophies
The shower like you was slashed
Left you bone dry without the cash
The thrill is gone your lovesick

She-devil  coffin red nails split Twilight zone

  The stars were in your corner
He deeply cared for you he was
your health kit
The Botanical Gardens

Like a figment of your imagination
Se demure you needed a
Florence Nightingale flower cure
To lift your depression to smile
You thought someone cared but all
misinterpretations

All misconceptions and misdemeanors
She takes so long putting on her
French lip glide Chanel liner
What could be ever cared for finer
Deeply digging holes like a miner

The solar rhythmic pointed finger
to the stars

So systematically
making a wish
just like everyone else
To plan your game
the game makes the plan
You deeply cared for delivery
Was I the care package

You weren't someone
just anybody like
A city dump garbage

Deeply wanting and waiting
So merely or rarely was it coming

Deeply seeing the next generation
The spectacular sunrise
White wicker twin set swing
Your heart pulls back but it was
so close to swinging forward
Moving towards your
accomplishments
The mess was all ****

"You have the exceptional mind like the beautiful mind"

People, you came across friends
Also, contributors  not the enemies
The country and the continents
Deeply cared for landmarks
The monuments how you love
her birthmark taking her hand

The Godly land such will command
moonwalker deeply cared for
All watered deep soul of lovers
The world of hands and
words became
such an impact

You felt like the creature so extinct

Sunshine?
Is there sunshine?
Will there ever be any sunshine?
Or will I only see darkness?
Live in the darkness
Breathe in the darkness
Is there any sunshine for me?
Or am I to forever live in the darkness
My fingers and toes are always cold
No warmth in my path
My finger nails are purple
And they almost look black
I can never tell if its spring, summer, fall, or winter
Its always dark and cold where I am
Is my soul dark?
Or just the place I'm in
Sometimes I see people
Or maybe its just a memory of someone
From when I was a little girl
Sometimes I think I see sunshine
Or maybe its just a figment of my imagination
Sometimes I wonder how sunshine feels
How it would feel on my face and all over my skin
Will I have friends in the sunshine?
But most importantly
Are there others in the sunshine?
Or will it still, only be me?
I'm not afraid of the sunshine
But I don't know what to expect
Maybe, this dark cold place isn't so bad
I guess I won't know
Until I find my way out of the darkness
Maybe one day I will
Maybe I won't
I will like to one day, see the sunshine
Hopefully when I do
It's not too late

nothing makes these feelings hurt worse
than not acknowledging they're here.
Alone again like it is every weekend
and you speak to the scars on your wrists-
tell them to go away.
But they just end up appearing somewhere else
I'm tired of feelings.
I long for the ability to feel nothing
so I could harness what it takes be okay
and use it to my advantage
so success would be just a nod away.
Instead I am nodding off because of these pills in my hand
and this head on my shoulders-
it's been almost 9 hours since my last meal
and I can taste the acid in my stomach
demanding refuge-
it, like me is tired of being left alone.
I am here-
sitting upon this mattress broken bones
and broken mind.
Trying to think of ways to put a cast upon it
so I can stop thinking so backwards
to start writing for the future
but these hands don't know time.
It is nothing but figment to this poetry.
I wished it still helped me-
I wish standing upon a stage
or tapping at these keys was still worth something.
But these words have become devalued to me now.
Too many to count-
it's an inflation of my current insanity
so nothing is of importance anymore
we're all carrying around words like they're nothing
building monuments and meaning out of virtue-
wishing upon stars we could build homes
out of these stanzas.
But the economy *****-
turns out so does this poem.

You saw me.
You saw me, didn’t you,
You saw me while I walked the valley of death,
Wile the fabric of my soul was threaded with fear and dread,
You saw me and said nothing.
I walked on, I walked on.
The days went by fast. It has been a long time, hasn’t it. None are here to console me but my brethren. My brethren, the shadows. The shadows don’t discriminate, they don’t love either. At least they do not pretend to love. They don’t betray my trust. They are a figment of my imagination. However, they are mine.
The darkness bids my call,
My soul takes the fall, the fall of trust,
The shadows hold me tight,
They keep me away from fear and fright,
They help my insanity and feed my vanity,
They tear my soul into pieces and replace them with emptiness,
I fear none but I fear one aspect,
Losing the capability to fear.
My tears don’t fall and the ground is dry. They are here, but I feel nothing. I know I am to win. Win the world. At the same time, I know, I am to lose. Lose my soul.
The time passes by as the grains of darkness cover the sky. My feelings are lost and I feel the frost. So close, yet so far. To become one of them has become my only aim.
I was destroyed, ruined, but the darkness lifted me. It showed me the way. The are the way. They might be a figment of my imagination, However, they are mine.
The grounds rumbles,
My sanity grumbles,
The darkness catches hold of me, it grips me tight,
My soul goes for a flight, a flight destined to never come back.
The job is done,
The time has come,
To walk as one of them,
As the defeated, as the lone,
My loyalties have changed,
It is time to do what they did to me,
Find another solider betrayed by love, by lust,
And show him the path,
The path of ever lasting darkness.
Maiden, what have you done to me? Ruined my life, crushed my destiny. My life has no light and my soul has no hope, the darkness falls upon me like an everlasting cloak. I have been ruined, destroyed, thus they are my hope, the light to my light, the rope across the chasm, the chasm of death. I hold my breath. I am surrounded by a flurry of feelings. All the despair comes out of me in forms of screams. The valley shakes at the cries of their new Lord. The Lord who lost. Lost in love, lost in lust. The Lord of Darkness, The Lord of Ways, the lord who will keep despair at bay. The darkness has made me one of my own, the shadows have sworn me in. They are my brethren, they are the soothing melodies to my groans.They are a figment of my imagination. However, I fear that I am their’s.

I’m sorry if I’m affectionate
I think you’ve misinterpreted
Didn’t mean to lead you on
But then again you don’t care

Don’t know why I do it
I don’t yearn for you
I’m just stuck
Between myself and others

They want us to happen
As if we’re a cool show
I’m not that into you
As you are too

But I don’t know
If I’m telling the truth
My brain says “You love him”
My heart says “You don’t”

They've switched roles
All because of you
And you couldn't care less
About how I feel

But genuinely, I’m scared
I don’t want to fall for you
The evidence speaks it
But my emotions are tired

It’s hard to like a mere figment
It’s hard to like you
Your ******* ways are disturbing
And you’re childish, well that’s worse

You act a certain way with me
But I see that with other girls
You constantly approach me
But I shrug it off

Maybe you’re annoyed
Even ****** at me
But I can’t do anything
I’m scared to show it

Unless you confess
Everything would be the same
We would just be friends
And nothing more

I forgot to mention, one other thing
The feelings I have for you
May be fake
For I like another guy
Other than you.

"Boy were we wrong!  We're the oddball.  We're the freaks." --- Dr. Michio Kaku

We looked at trillions of those stars and knew,
that somewhere out there was another Planet Blue.
Those were not canals we saw on Mars;
optical illusions, lensed figment memoirs.

Stare into trillions, space mind overwhelms.
Rimbaud entrapped in countless ethereal realms.
Not the goal of evolution, merely happenstance,
the search for elsewhere leads a merry dance.

Planets a dime a dozen, yet no Goldilocks Zone
produces signals bearing SETI transient tones.
Birds more subtly impact our lives,
than do the aliens our universe provides.

What I saw was startling, yet comforting. I found myself in awe. My ability to speak without hesitation was striped from me for that two minutes of time. It could have easily been a figment of my imagination and had the exact same effect.

A few nights ago I dreamt of the memories I have with you,
They were all dusted in snow and I was trying
to find the footsteps pressed within them that I could trace back to where we were.
I stayed lost in the land of the past until the sun began to rise
and melted each memory away
and lit the road back home.

There’s a battle raging through my head,
So much that it knocked me off my bed.
There’s a war raging through the thoughts;
Diverse and dismayed neither I can sort.

Haste is the time that spent wasting
Entertained by such pacifistic maiming.
Ideating the norm and realizing the storm
had just started as I shut the squirm.

Conscience speaks the threat at hand,
the head does not agree the time it spanned.
Where there are more things on heaven and earth;
there are more dreadforth than my brain sports.

The enemy lurks the darkness in me,
passing by the realm of my inability.
I had to open eyes wide to invite the Light
while at the same time shut from plain sight.

Recall the Words spoken to me,
realize there is much for me to see.
The villain emerge from the dark of the moon -
the cerebral crater dormant from the day’s form

“You – are not – real.
You are just a figment;
an imagination, a fantasy,
one that I let you haunt me.”

The One I know died for,
Lived and loved me through the core.
Lies no longer seem redemptive nor elegant nor sped;
Flee not the grace and flee the grave though instead.

Jolt to wake myself up,
admonition that all along I was held at a stop.
The battle becomes the sleep yet decided;
settled more for the Love had invited.

Sprang forth with no branches or leaves. Small roots.
Bore mangoes, papayas,guava and bananas. Hybrid, mid limb grafting.
The trunk is a figment but it stands non less. You see
my family tree never was and always will be.
A roadside shade with low hanging fruit.

Was never planted.It was a deposit from the bowels of an exotic bird
of the jungles that sampled at leisure the offerings of the rain forests.
The Hardtack and marmalade came on ships with the kings business
Mixed with the Nigerian Fu-Fu  ,the Aztec maize the Mayan legumes.
and all points of the compass.

Old Joe Denegri, The Blancaneaux , The Cattouse, The Melado, The Pinks
The Flowers,The Orozco and more. And boundless from the ***** of opportunity.
Piecemeal and untethered. But it is the tree that I must cling to.
However rough the bark.

The sap runs heavy and slow in the humid Belizean heat.To meet the earth.
Cool breezes blow a haunting disharmony. A sweet unity in chaos.
The soil is rich,pungent and forgiving.  Soon, A bell tolls  in the distance.
The Sea mists my dreams.

A stairway of coconut fronds to azure skies.
Nighttime smells like creation.
The still slackened pace.
The small rat race.
Tempest in a teapot.
Urban-rural.

Coolie gal.
Creole boy.
New Chinese.
Old African.
Ubiquitous Espania.
Garinagu. Mosquito coast.
Children of Mennon.
Old Basque faces.
Things we call races left with small traces
of what?

My tree, her tree, histree.
I am you and you are me.
I see me in your face and you see me.
We are  and will continue to be.
Blended.
a hybrid. An orchid wild.

I close my eyes
To look into your eyes.
I take a deep breath
To savour your fragrance.

I dip my conscience
In the figment of your imagination.
I lose my senses
In the sparkles of your smile.

My heartbeat slows down
To the sound of your presence.
My world spins around
To be a part of your essence.

My soul resonates
With a gentle touch of your palm.
My spirit resuscitates
With a glimpse of your thought.

Tonight I swim
In the sea of your memories.
Tonight I surrender
In the world of your dreams.

Tonight I relive those moments
With you in my mind.
Tonight I let go of all doubts
With you by my side.

The real subjectivity of life is overwhelming;
Prospective consumes our frontal cortex
But there is no escape from this vacuum seal.
We see the faces of our own delight,
The know how of the here and now,
But we are too blind to look past our own perspectives.
Even when we fathom the hearts of others,
Our understandings are predisposed  to our own Identity.
Objectivity is a fleeting notion of reality, of truth
and its as though the ground we hold so dearly
Is constantly fleeing from our grasp.
Today we call this individualism,
a disconnect between one's self and society.
But I so selfishly and foolishly believe
that this chasm stems from being lied to so often.
Am I lying to myself or am I being lied to I do no know,
but it is important to understand that it does not matter
that nothing matters, because everything exists in my field of view.
The only question remains: am I correct
Or has the devil made me a fool?
But  this does not confirm nihilism
only hints at its initial potential.
Yet there are common truths that are irrefutable
no matter who you are, real or not:
The reality is the here and now,
No matter what ghosts or demons there may be.
They affect the consciousness constantly
indifferently to whether or not they are fraudulent or true.
And my experiences are true, the emotions are radical,
and even if everyone I know is a figment and interpretation,
they still hold a grasp onto my withering heart.

Painters, by the highest degree of inspiration,
And poets who with the Muse commune,
Command in their respective trades un-
Common craftmanship, exquisite creation
Of pen and brush upon the parchment
And canvass, through unfettered figment.

Gifted: poets, painters and musicians. Three
Geniuses on this terrestrial plane, with mind
As efficient as the moon in its fullest grind,
As do all artistic souls whose mastery
In finest workmanship are seen. Worship
The God of arts ye astronauts in spaceship,

For poets and painters are cardinal in artistic
Enrolment--and no less endowed are many another
Like sculptors--with thoughts solitary and cryptic.

My heart feels like an uncut diamond
Though it is still the same, it is not the same
Someone speaks of a bridge to be built from Tangier
to Algeciras or is it Gibraltar?
"Yes & then a highway to the stars or more likely
an elevator to the Underworld," says Yellow Turban
To White Jellaba as the exhaust fumes from the bus
engulf them, leaving behind not even a single
shadow.
Is that Mel Clay in a white jacket turning the corner?
No, it is a figment of my imagination escaped from the
asylum.
Is that Ian Sommerville walking backwards up the street
as if pulled by a giant magnet?
No, that is Wm. Burroughs making electricity
from dead cats.
Is that Tatiana glistening on Maxiton?
No, that is the sun dancing in the sugar bowl.
Is that Marc Schelfer wavering on the cliffedge?
No, it is a promontory in the wind of time
about to fall in the sea.
Is that Beethoven's 9th Symphony being played
up the street?
No, it is the sound of the breadwagons
rumbling over cobblestones
Is that George Andrews with two girls in hand
looking for bread?
No, it is an unidentified flying object about to land.
Is that One-eyed Mose hanging by his heels?
No, that is the hanged man inventing the Taro.
Are the dead really so fascinated by *******?
Yes, that is how they travel.
Is that Irving in short pants looking for trouble?
No, that's me unable to stop thinking.
Is that Kenneth Halliwell looking for Joe Orton?
Is that Jane Bowles looking for Sherifa, Rosalind looking
for her baby, Alfred searching for his lost hair?
Is that the wig of it all, the patched robe of my brain,
the wind talking to itself?
Brion is dead and Yacoubi is dead, and I am a not unhappy
ghost remembering everything, the warp & woof of memories,
her yellow slip, her shaved ****, her idiot child.
Dream shuttle makes me exist everywhere at once.
The blind beggars led by children keep coming.
"They all have many houses in the Casbah,"
chant the unbelievers ******* on sugar.
Words keep coming back like Bezezel for ****, Lictcheen
for oranges, like Mina, like Fatima, like Driss Berrada
dropping his trousers for an injection in the middle
of his shop.
The trunk is full of old sepia postcards,
barebreasted girls smoking hookahs etcetera.
We speak of the cataplana, the mist which obscures
even the cielo you cannot even see the hand in front
of your face.
We embrace, he says he thought of me only yesterday,
he says there are always nine such men who look like us
in the world and that we are the tenth.
We speak of the gold filets in the sky over Moulay Absalom.
The garbage men in rubber boots go thru the Socco pushing
wheeled drums of collected garbage.
An unveiled woman wobbles out of a taxi and heads home
before sunrise.
Paul couldn’t believe that was a Karma Street,
but I will never forget it.
And Billy Batman, who made the best hash in the world,
he dropped a loaded pistol in Kabul, shot himself in the *****,
took some ****** and lay down to die.
Now I must get up from my table in the allnight Café Central.
No more Dr. Nadal, no more window with red crosses & red
crescents.
The water thrown from buckets runs across the café floors
& over the sidewalks & I drop a dirham into the hand
of a blind beggar singing in the dark on the American stairs


From Anais Nin’s A Spy in the House of Love—"The women wear fireflies in their hair, but the fireflies stop shining when they go to sleep so now and then the women had to rub the fire- flies to keep them awake."

That beautiful mind - what is she thinking?
Is she thinking about you?
Maybe it was about her summer?
Maybe she hasn't thought things through?
Her mind could be racing...
Trying to finish her last thought
Or maybe her brain ain't been the same
Since her hearts been lost.
Does she wonders about her future?
Maybe reminisce about what's happened in her past...
Thinking about loving me - but can she more so than her last?
Her figment thought have her mind dancing in the moonlight - while she rises so high her feet can't touch the ground
She's daydreaming about...nothing - nothing
Just sleeping on a cloud.
Simplicity fuels her membrane
All while sleeping on a cloud.
Said she's never coming down
The earth is too vague - the city is way too loud
Yeah
My Darling daydream...
But what's she thinking now?...

As I move closer - whisper sweat nothings in her ear.
Maybe she's thinking clear, this man I both adore and fear...
One moment it's summer nights - next the cold winter snow
What is she thinking?
Guess I'll never really know
Stares at me with her smile...
But the clock never stops ticking
Is she thinking that she's fulfilled love?
Or does she wonder what's missing...
Girl, let me into your beautiful mind
Let me dive in and explore
Let me see all your thoughts, your desires and so much more.

And I wonder what's she thinking?
My darling keeping on daydreaming.
Imagine your heart filled with love
Your soul full of meaning.
Sleeping on her peaceful cloud.
As she continues, daydreaming.

Do sunspots really burn flesh?

This figment
of my imagination,
computer-codes
& languages,
people speaking in tongues
& I crave basic.

I remember them ******* days,
back when reality ******,
but at least it was real.

When the end of eternity arrives, you shall be by my side awaiting the dawn.
The Sun rises bringing newfound hope to the denizens of a light and airy realm,
Our spirits reanimate, rejuvenate, resurrect; intercept weariness of heart.
Doves above the high plains carry our love across the infinite sea of the Universe.

Stars and twinkling celestial bodies swirl around the center of all creation.
Pianos, my threnody has become a source of lament and bemoaning but in time a love song will revitalize a deadened soul with a deprivation of cosmic oxygen.
I want you to breathe newfound air into my nostrils, fill me to the brim with your breath of life, toxicity to the bones.
Being able to stand in your midst will be an impossibility.

My knees will give out and as I fall to ground you will tightly grasp my hand and pull my body into yours.
“Amplify my heartbeat with the sound waves of your voice.”
“Ensconce within the warmth of my body, feel the heat rise when we begin to caress each other softly.”
My blood becomes frigid smoke when I’m in your midst.

Nothing but cold heat courses through my body.
I’m frozen, stuck in a cube of time and space where you and I reside in comfort and abysmal enamorment.
-Ardent passion-
This is where my heat lies.

The inferno that burns beneath my wary skin is a tempest of sequestered affection.
“I’m afraid to be touched.”
You are the element of freedom.
You are the most sought after and desired material in all creation.

The materialistic nature of this world has accosted me with a cannonade of ****** bullets, pleasing in a forbidden way…
Gazing upon you with my eyes is a sin.
A transgression.
But the platinum heart in your possession is my desire.

Daffodils and roses surround us in a floral sphere; a yellow tinged bubble..
We transcend gravity and float above the ground.
-Fragrance-
An aromatic barrage of iridescent fumes intoxicates us as we rise past the stratosphere, mesosphere, troposphere, and conscious- sphere.

Being with you is a higher plane of existence where your every breath is vital to my survival.
Magic courses through my veins when I hold your arms around me.
Aqueous bombs descend from my eyelashes when you depart.
A deluge of tears has accosted me.

My body contorts and I crawl into a corner; this is my cloister of trials.

Those seemingly eternal eons during which I endure the withdrawal symptoms of your narcotic love…
Maybe you’re a hallucinogenic?
Lying on the cold and sobering concrete floor beneath me, I **** my thumbs in the fetal position.
I’m an infant after you vanish in the thick and noxious puff of smoke that lingers long after you are gone.

You are a master of the arcane.
You are nothing short of extraordinary.
Even when you disappear it is nothing short of awe-inspiring.
I feel the love spells from your tome of seduction blast my fragile spirit till’ I begin to lose my sight.

I clench my forehead with the back of my skull pressed against, being caressed by these sanguine reds walls that seem to cave in.
I can’t hold my head up any longer.
I lie in darkness as chaos consumes my soul.
The murky and dank ambushes me from the corners of an unknown dimension.

I’ve slipped into an unknown land.
A myriad of ravens with ebony wings surround me until I am no longer visible to another human soul.
They latch onto my skin, grapple onto my thighs, weigh me down with despair and push me six feet under.
When all is dim and lost?

I realize this is figment of the imagination, a fabrication…
I realize this is all a dream.
A dream of what could be.
A dream of a narcotic love.

I have yet to jostle that unknown creature who lurks at the threshold of the limitless skies.
When I reach the stars in my spaceship of galactic love then I will find you.
Obscurity runs amuck in the dimension that I now reside in.
Dark clouds loom above the skies…

The sun is nowhere in sight.
A storm is brewing as lightning begins to crash.
In those brief seconds of illumination I am bombarded with visions of your face.
The complexion of your skin, the feel of your flesh beneath my fingertips.

I hope that your touch will unbind me, loose me from the disillusionment that I’ve been threatened by all my life.
I beseech the heavens to shackle me with iridescent chains to the stars so that gravity will never pull me away from my dreams.
I will hang above the terrene never plummeting down the sea of the skies, never being incinerated by the blaze of freefalling down the atmosphere.
You will be my reward.

That glowing gift box with a celestial wrapping.
A diadem with the most extravagant gems and diamonds shall be waiting for me beneath the cosmic plastic wrapping and the golden ivory box that surround this gift.
When I open it, this crown shall begin to levitate and a human silhouette made of light shall begin to transfigure itself from naught beneath it.
Skin will slowly attach to your luminescent body.

Your metacarpals and phalanges will appear.
Your ribcage will expand and a platinum heart will begin beating within it’s confines.
-The heart that I’ve always wished for-
I will finally be able to gaze upon your face.

I will hold onto and never let you go.
We will grow old together and when we near the end of our lifetime, we shall become nebular gases.
We will then become one with the Universe.
The remnants of our love will last everlastingly even after the spark of passion is long gone, when our corporeal vessels no longer exist in a physical form.

“I don’t…I have nothing else to say but that I will be waiting.”
“I will wait for you to materialize in my midst.”
“My heart ails for you but my malady will dissipate once you arrive.”
“Every heartbeat leads you and I one step closer to one another.”

“You will be my remedy, my panacea of love.”
“I love you but I don’t even know who you are!”
“The reason why is unknown to me.”
“I will be waiting darling.”

“I will be waiting for your earth-shattering kiss.”
When the ground beneath us begins to crumble, we shall plummet beneath the lithosphere and asthenosphere till’ we reach the core of the planet.
We shall become the inferno beneath the ground.
Our passion will burn so brightly, so fervently, that an eruption will take place above the surface of the ground.

The world will know that when we make love, the air will be ignited.
Our passion shall heat up the Universe.
You will be in my Universe  and you will be my Universe…
Maybe then?

-I’ll become yours-

To my Future Lover, to my moon, sun, and stars, to my Universe,
By, Iridescently Efflorescent

there is heard an amplified distinction of sounds
smells of accelerated inner vertigo
a feeling of immanent death
the distillation of blood stains on the sheets
an impulse of volatilized emotion
that generates a different vocabulary
creates a fixation with a considered state
of inner concerns, entertains other dimensions
discovers with sinister undertones
that one is a figment, yes a figment
of someone else’s imagination
that you are a a fascinated but unfortunate escape
from a brutal insensitivity that sustains a mind
that teeters at the jagged edges of the world
for is it you… are is it who, an hallucinated perception
of the I, the we, the them and the me

You saw me.
You saw me, didn’t you,
You saw me while I walked the valley of death,
Wile the fabric of my soul was threaded with fear and dread,
You saw me and said nothing.
I walked on, I walked on.
The days went by fast. It has been a long time, hasn’t it. None are here to console me but my brethren. My brethren, the shadows. The shadows don’t discriminate, they don’t love either. At least they do not pretend to love. They don’t betray my trust. They are a figment of my imagination. However, they are mine.
The darkness bids my call,
My soul takes the fall, the fall of trust,
The shadows hold me tight,
They keep me away from fear and fright,
They help my insanity and feed my vanity,
They tear my soul into pieces and replace them with emptiness,
I fear none but I fear one aspect,
Losing the capability to fear.
My tears don’t fall and the ground is dry. They are here, but I feel nothing. I know I am to win. Win the world. At the same time, I know, I am to lose. Lose my soul.
The time passes by as the grains of darkness cover the sky. My feelings are lost and I feel the frost. So close, yet so far. To become one of them has become my only aim.
I was destroyed, ruined, but the darkness lifted me. It showed me the way. The are the way. They might be a figment of my imagination, However, they are mine.
The grounds rumbles,
My sanity grumbles,
The darkness catches hold of me, it grips me tight,
My soul goes for a flight, a flight destined to never come back.
The job is done,
The time has come,
To walk as one of them,
As the defeated, as the lone,
My loyalties have changed,
It is time to do what they did to me,
Find another solider betrayed by love, by lust,
And show him the path,
The path of ever lasting darkness.
Maiden, what have you done to me? Ruined my life, crushed my destiny. My life has no light and my soul has no hope, the darkness falls upon me like an everlasting cloak. I have been ruined, destroyed, thus they are my hope, the light to my light, the rope across the chasm, the chasm of death. I hold my breath. I am surrounded by a flurry of feelings. All the despair comes out of me in forms of screams. The valley shakes at the cries of their new Lord. The Lord who lost. Lost in love, lost in lust. The Lord of Darkness, The Lord of Ways, the lord who will keep despair at bay. The darkness has made me one of my own, the shadows have sworn me in. They are my brethren, they are the soothing melodies to my groans.They are a figment of my imagination. However, I fear that I am their’s.

he keeps me
trapped in a prism prison of different shades and tints of red
crimson, scarlet, marlot
follow me down into some kind of thing we'll drag on for months
keeping the dead animal of our situation-ship around until the neighbors complain of the stench
i dont know, dude.
i open myself up and i see the same shades of red flowing out
the stench is there as well- i smell like a gun
anxiety chews away at the rest of my body,
gnawing on my ear, feeding me more information i didn't need to hear
you say i'm trigger happy when it comes to jumping to conclusions
if i'm a gun, you're the smoke from the shot.

the dead re-materialise by the side of the roadside
they are visible as though seen through a spotlight
it is a brutally interrogative light
that magnifies these corpses
makes them resemble the fragments
of suicidal terracotta pots
it magnifies them as symbolic equivalents
of their real image
its beam dazzles broken glass on the pavement
the breakage an impersonation of their cataclysm
causing the edges of seeing to hurt
and hearing to submerge itself
in a turquoise blue aquarium in fear
as speech sounds a primitive retreat
in its atavistic echoes of inveterate distraction
there is a disorder of blood stains on the road
where all emotional impulse is volatilised
causing a wild distillation of programmed anxiety
which in a different vocabulary becomes
a figment of somebody else's imagination
causing a sinister, stuporous, stagnancy of sound
in palpitations, dropped heartbeats, nausea, headaches
and a foul change in bowel function

Gloomy is a figment of one's own

                imagination

                   Where a

                     HEART

              Should shine

                        **24/7