You don't really know how I struggle
just to string the words beading by color
threading them into a ring on my right hand
rainbow wrists and darling pinked heart-shaped
pockets at the ******* securely aligned.

A sneeze is an excuse to learn forward
and lurch inside with pleasure,
doesn'
t everyone know that?
It's all interrupted in the end
anyway, but
each cliche understands and I
transparate and soften physicality
fffft.

and rematerializing like a mother-
in-law I stake my heart on
a whited sepulchre-
but ain't originality a *****? The repetition
becomes quite tedious, but go
on with a smile, my dear;
For life is full of
surprises- wretched beats and
sweetened bruises, rather like a berry
and most unlike a radish.

So hold your basket gently as
you sway and twist within
a mellow breeze that teases
the auburn tendrils that once
framed a face too young
keep the corners of your mouth
up, and defy your forehead by
the strength of your brow
for I always stand ready
right behind.

"What Jim, you want what"*
I'm never going in that confounded
Contraption. Do you know what happens
When you step in.

Molecules spread upon the cosmos,
Skin is nothing then it plays jigsaw
With my bits, what parts does it miss.

Do you know the people that have
Stepped on this thing, its like sitting
On a 20th century public toilet.

"Bones what are you saying"
"You been taking your meds again"

Jim, Spock don't you raise that eye brow,
Don't think I didn't see that slight grin.

"I'll not get on that confounded contraption"

Where's the shuttle, its a metal tomb, but
Anything is better than beaming away,
Rematerializing just isn't my dam thing.

They’re back.
   Returning like the sun
      To the horizon by morning,
         A genuine gold crown
            In place of a shadowy
               Silver mask; equally as
                  Blinding as the yellow sky,
                     But covering a face
                        Concealed by lies
                           And grand performances.
                              A sickness of sadness
                                 Overwritten by a new
                                    Plague of shining smiles
                                       And voluntary sleeplessness,
                                          Symptoms evocative of the lost
                                             Thoughts rematerializing within
                                                The great oceans of my mind.
                                                   An already accepted fate
                                                      In bold prophetic writing,
                                                         Burned pages at a time and
                                                            Rewritten in a language
                                                               Of crystalline passion.
                                                                  My will has returned.