I build a house of cards with the deck of hearts and present it to you.
And upon seeing all my full, red expressions of affection, you shuffle and deal out my imperfections until
one by one,
my house falls down.

Your diamonds aren't as illuminous as they were after your first sip, you say.
So all your glitter isn't really gold, you say while
shifting my diamond to a rhombus never to turn it right side up again.

Your clubs beat me over the head and cause my brain to swell with a smooth aftertaste as you
see through my lack
of a poker face.
Breaking through my walls and exposing my weak points.
Flooding over my defenses and ensnaring me in a trap
weaved only by the highest proof
and I know you have won.

Because my ace of spades has been found.
Trickling your jokers over the rocks to my hearts,
they climb over the rubble that has been laid at the ground, the foundation, the base.
And your clubs tear it up!
And the jokers, you! race to the top of the south and with your strongest clubs,
break into my ace of spades!

Pinning it to the ground and forcing it to turn around and flee!
And I can hear it! I hear it calling for me... to help us get away
but my hearts are dull and my shifting rhombi are ablaze.  
For this infinite moment in time is dazzling and my own eyes aren't aligned to light the way
to free me.

Gleaming rays of the sheen from your diamonds slice through my illusions and
wake me up to the aroma of fresh debris.
My hearts, toppled.  My diamonds, demolished.
My clubs, sleeping and my ace of spades,
removed.

And the sky never changes. The moon ripples in the puddle left behind by the design
of your jokers and spades and your hearts remain untouched.  Your spades are buried behind walls of
black and your diamonds are so far back that I couldn't tell if they were even there at all.

My deck of 52 is now a deck of 51 and without a solid set,

I'll never have the chance to play this "game" again.

Dip your toes
into receptacle of embellishments

whilst
hoisting your trouser-legs
above your shining ankles thus
preventing traces of
immodesty.

conjure an entire
genus of rhombi
to  think
                                                                              outside of

at interview:
bubble
and dress
in clothes, preferably.

try not to fold your arms or look bored
and always remember
to be someone you are not.

where the void has
it's puppets...
the cartilage
of dead suns,
and the rumor of you
advances.

all the peculiar Rhombi
bedazzle the Waste
as long shadows
fold into crashing
waves of
noise... and split seams
mend your reflection
as you gather to yourself
the whole of Creation
to microscope the dot
above your
i.

they say there are forces beyond our control
that reside within us
oh, how their whispers escalate into screams
it's worse than it seems, this need
heart insists, "touch every inch of me,  touch oh touch please,
carress and hold, tender and sweet"
i heard through the grapevine
then diamond rhombi on notebook pages climb
over each restless thought
surrender, this is war, touch oh bleed into me,
i will lose so gracelessly
no, stand up, free yourself now
(there is a force within that knows you can win)

-cj