863

That Distance was between Us
That is not of Mile or Main—
The Will it is that situates—
Equator—never can—

1071

Perception of an object costs
Precise the Object’s loss—
Perception in itself a Gain
Replying to its Price—

The Object Absolute—is nought—
Perception sets it fair
And then upbraids a Perfectness
That situates so far—

There's some sort of magic between the eyes of a resting jaguar. Their languid yawn, opening the gaping maw that lies between their strong teeth, more energetic than their tired paws.

Still and regal, wearing muscles like fine silks, their fur like that final kingly cape and their ears their crown.

A zoo jaguar once met my eyes and in a deadlocked stare, saw the camera in my hands, and turned his head to pose. A prince always knows when to please his peasantry. As a pleased peasant, I snapped pictures and nearly cried at his serene posture behind a wall of glass. There was some sort of uncharted beauty in the way he spoke without words oversaturating his meanings. It was a way I wished to speak. He was a comrade behind glass, silent yet observant and knowing. Though my head might be a good fit for a maw, I nearly wanted to keep him close company.

The dark spots that adorn his body are the only betrayers of the fierce undertones of his monarchy. Well, except for the teeth, of course.

Though I try to unlock my gaze and detach from the gossamer threads that were beginning to tie, the jaguar eyes and jaguar prince incessantly seep into my brain, for when I close my eyes all I can see is theirs staring back at me. All I want is just one hand, a single touch, a gift to feel their crowns and robes, to experience the powerful royalty beneath their quiet eyes, even if being taken by their maw may end up being the price.

My affection becomes jarred by the human hand jostling my wrist, and I blink for the first time since seeing the posing feline prince. My head turns, trance averted, and I'm looked at with perplexion as my body has sidled up to the glass, and the Jaguar, now alert, is swinging its tail and staring in wonderment at me.

My eyes magnetize back to their rightful place, his green eyes on my green eyes, and I wonder what lives we would live like if I could see into his mind and know what's he's like. Perhaps we would be friends, or family, or hunters, or partners, in that other life.

Or, perhaps he'd want to eat me nonetheless.

One more camera shot of my jaguar prince, and a silent nod as he situates himself back to his pose. Restful, regal, serene. Turning away, I feel myself leave a part of me that always stays with him and taking that part of him that stays with me.

Every wild eye does, and our secret we will keep.

I am in need of litmus paper;
A wriggling creature indeterminately featured follows,
It does not sit nor stand no feet nor hands just wriggling waving scribbling in goopy slop, no stops
The smell of burning band-aids trailing in its wake.

Savage monstrous floatation above a tile sea,
Its motions are elegantly sick, delightful ****,  
And I think I am thinking I'd like to know what it thinks,
But then, I know I should never truly know.

I am in need of litmus paper.
Is it an acid, base, or an accidental space
Filled, yet out of place, a dogma to my face?
Recurrent in its situation, killed once, but a reactivation?

I am in need of litmus paper.
Somewhere, I find, I am in the trail it leaves behind.
In this sign, I am afraid.

As it situates, conscious or unconsious,
Wriggling along, regurgitating from behind itself over and over again,
Halving itself, then fusing whole again,
It stares ahead, using an invisible force, inward eyes inside a blank face, to its next traversed inch in the slimy tiles.

And I think,
I need litmus paper.

Bow tie- tightened but hangs askew
Glancing in the mirror he shrugs; tired of the tireless toil of the tie.
Continuing on through a arched door stained brown like the late Autumn leaves.
With a gentle nod he greets his friends and family, cracking a smile ever so slightly.
Music begins to softly pour into the hall.
He takes his queue and walks his mother into a room.
The room if filled with eyes, ears, smiles, and tears.
His mother gives him a heart-felt kiss upon the cheek.
He tells her he loves her and let's her take her seat.
The man situates himself at the head of the room trying to control his emotions.
The music fades away and another tune begins to play.
The room turns, all attention aimed at the opening of the double-doors.
But nothing.
The song continues, but no one is on display.
The eyes quickly turn to convey dismay.
The man rubs his eyes. On a day so filled with joy, only grief he receives.
What was once a love painted red is now stained brown like the late Autumn leaves.

my loose leaf like sway
situates in light, right in
wind, life

leaves me loose
along the precipice of this
coagulated noose

oh hoots and *****!
my boots cannot take me anywhere
today, they
lack distance to stretch

as string stretches all along
our stratified souls
they say, oh
give me a rest

so,
      death;
must you
                  be such an ending
to this terrible mess?
I guess not, i guess
it is not the correct thing to discuss

Let's discuss the
superfluous stuff,
the dramatic tease of interest,
the emaciated conversations of puff,
please, please, situation
and
     nothing
               else, nothing
will tough the brave disguise
of this stuff

the life of this everything stuff

The ornate
lamp

situates its
light

against the
wall.

It gradually
produces

a gentle
glint.

How much more can I take of the entities, the evilness, which LIES inside of me
Not much more than with what you could abstain,
I've shown you most of all my deviant ways!
      the anger, the suffering, the antagonizing pain
      it's all too real now…
                           …playing with insanity, is not a game to be played
Your dreams of reality are swept aside,
Like no one ever seemed to care or bother or even wonder why?
Whilst you only sat there and confused yourself in solitude
Doing the things you do, saying the things you said you'd do
so many writing of thoughts many misconstrued
Honesty was the best thing ever taught too you!
The anxiety lead into deep COGNOTION, counter-reaction, try to defeat the ignition    
They could never observe the substantial features,
         distorted faces…….. Surrounding me !
         abstract creatures desperately haunting me!
Constant observation, torrent horror feeding a way to obscure my day.
Life living demons , I've struck the gate wide open.
My sanctuary thought to be secured
Plundered and exploited, invaded, deprived of.
distinguished my nobility of my characteristic pride…
my sanctuary denied … a test of intellectualistic     pyschoanalystical dehumanized control!
The battle situates, no compromises
                                      set fort now!
                        The Obscurities of the Mind
The next days dialed in , intrepid discretely, recon disengaged of your sorry *** situation just got bitterly disarrayed, to far astray!
     THIS IS THE INVASION OF YOUR WORST NIGHTMARE!!!
                                                    ­     Written by: M.j.Merrifield

it’s cold here..
the place where grudges held are like jewels in a crown,
we wear them.
loss & lonely visits
& never checks out.
anxiety always comes in strong like waves
trying to wash away any possibility of new destiny.
-
it is too dangerous to stay here
yet i can’t just get up and go...
i know of nowhere else,
i am too familiar to this place of nothingness and sorrow;
this place has kept me warm
& this place has kept me sheltered.
-
this place...
it’s dark;
dark like the corners of my heart
where love hides,
fetal position.
-
dark like the pupils of my peers,
in pairs
they appear misguided.
why am i here?
-
the things you hold onto are the things that hold onto you;
your resentment resides
& it situates itself in the deepest parts of you.
it takes full control while you watch yourself become homeless in your own home...
stranger.