Dissipate into oblivion
To become the nether
To lapse in consciousness

To enter the void
Flow to omniscience
Live without measure
To float through the meshwork

To drift through space-time
& Become the needle
To weave my percipience
& Teeter on the precipice

To transcend ascension
Ameliorate the ethereal
To glitch beyond boundaries
Defragment my surroundings

To eclipse the sun
In perpetual rapturing
Suspend reality
Be one with the everlasting

Had I studied your palms
a little longer,
gotten to know every crease
every scar,
chiseled an indelible memory
putting Roman sculptures to envy
I'd might better have known
who you are.

She laughed.
It was a mirthless sound, full of echoes
and taught with strain

A sharp flash of insight
to some pulsing, deep-rooted ache;
A crackling outburst of electricity

With heat and light searing through,
The passageway opportunely provided
By the void in the afflicted sound

All which dimmed swiftly
As the noise abruptly faltered,
Caught, died.

With it died his illumination
Of some burning passion she kept,
Deeply hidden, closely guarded.

The sound and percipience had ended.
She could not revoke the gesture.
A silent ambivalence grew quickly.

in a boat
sail to disappear
in ocean
……………..
ocean disappeared
in me..

I wander aimlessly here, here in this place where I
often go. A refuge where I come to be restored by the midnight air, ere that perfect silence into which I'm
thrown; and in which I can collect my thoughts &
know  -my percipience does ignite somewhere.

Somewhere off the map.      Somewhere off the globe.

Aloft in these Nameless Hallows, I travel lightly -because
my body ne'er goes... goes... goes...  in these, my echoes within -within the far compass of unerring tranquility: but what an ability
-what a beautiful bliss! to cast no shadow where the
dutiful exist.

  Lo!
           Suddenly a downpour hits!



  T'is Woe!
                             T'is Woe!


T'is Woe!  



                                   And, sullenly I resound her hiss.



I look thru squinting eyes as lightning is barely
lightening the glinting skies; the frightening bolts
extending and scarily resembling skyward highways
which have me verily trembling, hammered, amazed.

Tho I feel and see and hear -part of me does part with
what I fear -and the other partly remains enthralled- as
I tuck myself in so near, an attempt in thwarting the
violent squall.

Now I slog helter-skelter thru the deepening pool.
Seek I shelter like a tooling Creep or a creeping Tool.

                          

Thunder rips the sky asunder!



Those pounding noises sound like resounding voices,
                                                       ­                         voices,
                              ­                                                         voices
and then I wonder, wonder, wonder... if the torrent is my only
torment:


or

if I must also face my other self,


that half of me
that ne'er lies completely dormant,

that hemisphere that lives and breathes and moves by stealth.




This is my grimmest fear, when I must ask myself -for my Self

- which part of me I should
shelf.

I think I can abandon both,
                          you see:
but then there
would be
                     nothing left of me...
                                                    or me...
                                                *or me.

"Bring me to elysium as I feel warmth of within,
I beseech your lips your voice your integument,
How can I alone bare cumbrance and stifle burdens,
Fresh outdoors my islet will cool my burning desires,

I wish to be her fantasy and make our love complete,
I want to eat the sun as it searches your body,  
That redolence exists within intangible feelings,
Tangent the wallow hunger inside depths of your soul,

Echoes within call to me as waves to the shore,
I travail as she groveled into my percipience,
I would no longer stay defiant to your touch,
Touching upon your impetuous palpable body,

Apprehensive of what your loving me might doth,
The ichorous in her eyes that echoes within,
Bellows in a delineation of abyss of passions ardor,
Deliquescing into each other’s arms unfolding in,
Elysium amorousness”
By A. Guzaldo 06/12/2018 ©

We found a home in the fortitude of the winter
In the voyage of a nightingale
Benevolence in abomination
and percipience borne of pandemonium
How, then, do we absolve the transgressor?
Remove the stain from white cloth?

We do not