There's a black
Hair-pinned sliver
AKA velvet liver
Lying under the bed
Catty-cornered
Adjacent to where my eyes wed
As I count the primes
I can't help but roll my eyes
And tears stream down my face.
The strigiforme released the worm
From the pebble teeth lodged in its beak.
Double the space from
One and three.
The song changed,
Her morning sickness spoke
Fold our lives in leaves,
The time we have is brief.
She came from under the bed
To blame
I shook my head and said
I did not eject.
I was fake
She was fake
The bed was fake
The owl,
Melted plastic
Left in the sun's wake,
Pacific rays, bleak and weak
Melding homes.
This makes no sense.

Night owl:
The strigiforme emerges
Clouded in crimson
Feathered vision
Cloaked in night
The young man's heart races
He forgot to pay his fines
"It's okay" he emits
"It just slipped my mind"
The owl circles above
"Just give me some time"
The owl bellows
"I need it, young fellow"
As he patrols on time
Vicarious visions probe the man's mind
A frightening mood
He's enveloped in black
Festering forms drenched in worms
Peck at his eyes
Visceral, visceral
"Forget me not" uttered in shrill
And the man's neck snaps
With the blood his soul leaks into the void
A technicolor swirl soon gives way to paranoia
He breathes, yet his lungs no longer move
"Give way to my will" beckons the owl
His tongue is familiar, like a lost language once spoken in times past,
But hieroglyphic all the same
And the man sinks and is stretched

"Hrim shim fertulos visigvus, hgrstatious involsxedo prliii"

Given the choice between known and unknown, the man goes with comfort
A cylindrical chasm to a familial realm
A world stained orange
A certain memory
Mother, father,
A fair night in October
His cigarette gleams
Serenely vestigial
Often times the words I know I know
As if implanted in my mind
Usually uttered on the spot
Sometimes jargon
Sometimes evident of an owl