I think the scent of bug spray on my palms will now forever remind me of you and the late night (early morning) we spent sitting in your car, drawing awfully unskillful portraits on the back of each other’s hands in 
dim light and 3 a.m. stillness. (I wonder if you could tell that doodling on your skin was just an excuse to touch you.) I wanted so badly to let my fingers find yours 
as we laid back in our seats 
and peeked out the rolled down 
windows at the infinite stars scattered above us in the 
early August night sky. I told you I wouldn’t kiss you, 
because I know my heart and 
how relentlessly it would 
replay how your lips felt on mine, and how it would ache knowing
 you couldn’t be mine,
 so I let you kiss my cheek instead,
 and the half a moment that I felt 
your unshaven face brush mine in the middle of the street at five in the morning feels like a fake memory. When you looked at me, I wanted to hide, because I was too afraid to read what words might’ve been written in your eyes, but I felt so content listening to the 
deep tone of your voice 
mix with the obnoxiously loud crickets singing in the trees 
surrounding us. I could’ve sat there with you till the stars disappeared and the sun took their place, but you walked me back home, and you left in the dark, and now I’m sitting in my bed thinking about how the hours between 2 and 5 a.m. have never felt so full.

Those who were marginalized by the braids and serpentine lights, devotions were made in San Juan allowing electromagnetic discharges from the imperceptible space-time of Vernarth's parapsychological quantum; alluding to clarities that achieved everything by having Patmia in the material and incorporeal from the start of the stained glass windows and archetypes by Transfer Quantum that burned the chins of hominids who believed to be immortal as if they were looking in this position for the direction between the eyebrows and the chin , for the Euclidean incidence crossing all the pools that are between quantum means of transfer of ions and cations. The oscillations of the sparkling field of consciousness of the containers were of ethical variables that became perpendicular to the space of draft or levitation of the designations that originated with accelerated electric charges on Patmos, developing albiceleste skylights over the harmonic equations as they elongated in proportions of quanta that They argued greater than those that circulated elliptically from Grikos to Skalá, and then to Profitis with assiduous progenitors of long-wave quanta. The magnificence of the halo became rectilinear up to the high altar that was atomized from the unskillful penumbra to reabsorb the inclinations of physical life in the Macedonians and the Achaemenides when they were trapped by the loss on the propagation of the Lux, which was imposed in hemicycles where they were they reclined to relax in the lux of rest of the path of the reasoning that made pederasty in the links with the minuscule obtuse lights, reeling from the clothing and its finite speed of what measures the ability to be undetermined in the margins of error of the antagonists when originating flow rates, greater in his dermis to regenerate towards any other that could be clothing of greater speed.

Thus was the scenario of dimensional magnitude between the powers that did not have contact, but their dimensionless energies on a surface that reached absorbent to the one that rectifies the concretive of the error that partially abused them. Their legacies would pass to a supplementary electromagnetic plane, separating their masses and retaking orientation from where they returned, where if the ideal of the final rational was refracted where everything would be vivid darkness. The obstacles classified them in the closure of the average height and the average surface, to then redirect to the maximum height and maximum surface propagating in irregularities of the Ego "Believing that they were never overcome in the diffuse perception of the metal mirror." The incident rays of the Lux would go to meet the multi-incident plane of the Mashiach, the wave angles were refracted throughout the sinuous law as radiosity passed over the greater mass that was normalized from the tangent that was projected 180 meters above the eyebrow. and Vernarth's chin, along with the recharged electromagnetic strengths of Alexander the Great's reactivation bezels, which at times seemed to levitate over the Lux's high frequencies and vary independently with its crowded functionalities, among scattered restraints that it presented to both weightless behind. from the decayed marble sawdust, separating from its phosphorescence that bounced between the rigging of solid surfaces and semi-solid ones, when realizing that the sea and the silica were confessed to the Pronoia of Delphi. Inducing Vernarth for the first time into a Pronoia versology on the Athena of Delphi, prompting them to separate from the world and it's holistic to divide into three portions of the dissociation of consciousness from the end of the Lux of Parapsychology, which had hosted them for centuries and centuries. . The Pronoia conspiracy systematized the reaction that would reunite them after this oracular parapsychology, making the adversaries believe that they were discrepancies of clinical parapsychology, equating warlike causes in the containment of Delphic neuroscience. From this quantification, the predominance of Vernarth's Lux de Pronoia was announced, linking peculiar segmentation of submit logical historicity in this work as a starting thesis, which speculates the same for those who have to make an analysis of historical dogmatic imperialism as a justification for mythological normality. The Lux thesis aimed to show that the dimensions of the mythology and the submitology, when exposed in physical quanta, made a tendency of irresolution in the abode of spiritual Tractatus reasoning and not in the instinctual one, which watches over recitals where history and its collective memory indicate outbursts of moderation. The role of the submithology  is to pretend that this normality is made close to the instruction after yours temporary for causes of your deep patrimonial, that makes them captives from the social complexity, with the disambiguation of certain criteria by maximizing the hidden truth of the ascending opposition forces that they have generated great conflagrations, intuition being the unreflective pseudo-reality with historical formalities that stumble into the terrified directionality of the myth that was to be reality. The tiny spaces of the verve left by the silent mechanics of the Persians became defensive when they saw their emissaries incoherently in the verticality of Allah when they saw that the confusing world with anxiety exaggerated predictions and failures invulnerability of a lineage that always had. been condemned to the desert.

Everything conspired with a Pronoia of siege, before the exegesis that sought purification and that was how they headed and misdirected their mistakes in the active train of the recess of their abstracted retreat, in a universe that also abandoned them after the subsequent train of Aurion waking them in their illusions with swords, and stealthy spears in dreams that specified safe rest. The ferocities of the proto-souls of assault carried away the translucent bodies of the Persians, and the Hellenes in acts of honor made such congenital paths of the understandable vocabulary that he did not speak. The prism was located in the cautious measure of its contractile dispersion with white separations of mantles, earth, and water scalded by dynamics that formed colorful activations with their withdrawal phenomena in the immaculate albino Lux that dissolved all of the facet optics that it made. Lux's great brain in the instant that the Thuellai airs transfigured the nuances of the Atros monastery, with objects that refused to be absorbed by the black hue, generating mechanical waves of equivalence in their identical interference that caused two opposing forces to distill the coherent differential that had to be overexposed in the category of historical Submitology. The two inverted waves separated, the Hellenes moaned and hiccupped for having to become identical when separating from their immaterial bodies, doing wonders that would house additional souls that would complement a transitory becoming towards the garden of the angels that provided them with identical beams of light, interfering in what animated the lights of pageantry, with the antithesis of interference where they resided in constancy knowing that they felt possessed of benefits of the eternal length of existence, but with pressures of mutable in some involuntary constancy and amplitude of having parallel directions with Saint John the Apostle and the Siblis. The phenomenon of polarization of both empires was denatured in a transverse way in all the electric fields after this feat, inciting unique fields of the pure and selective ascending ecosystem, which generated polaroid substances at the angle of ninety degrees above the browbones and chin of Vernarth, to approach the Pronoia of concatenation with Alexander the Great refracting unscathed hyper-vital and transcendent faces of infinity. Like any other phenomenon, the Lux crossed both bodies like two Xiphos swords that processed the electromagnetic valve, by iridium that converted with all the coarse Lux that crossed the succumbed immateriality and stopped the shaft and the nail that hang in the typology of electromagnetic radiation from the Hellenic world between them, making an ominous redemptive fire that was regimented to leave them both in the middle of a farm where there were farmyard animals, stockpiled pastures and a house that absorbed them as parents who would love them as beings of Lux. Thus, this primary parapsychological quantum network penetrated the level of the archangels that made them be together in planes of manumission, and that does not admit bi-quantum personality or bi-parapsychology that can cancel out the portent of the helmets and the lineage that does not dazzle if they are not made of iron.

The life of the other world began to be encompassed in all the Subtraigus beings that would correspond to the astral plane that was confirmed after the Kalidona Romantics deduced the Unicorn Uilef or Uilef Monókeros after Pronoia. Kalidona being an uninhabited island and the Uilef sleeps in between copulating with Spinalonga and Kolokythas along with other smaller islets, plus two hundred that will make up six islands of the twenty-six tetragram of Alef. Here Drestnia went with her consort of Etréstles from the Koumeterium of Messolonghi to find fateful encounters of Pantheism based on the majestic copulation of beauty, among twenty-six numbers that prevailed in virtuosos who took refuge in Kalydon or Kalidona, preparing for their rampage with grafted grotesque derived bodies of the Falangist Hellenes who were arranged of their musculature, so that they directed the finesse of the civility of Hesiod, Terpando, Archiloco, Baquílides, tragic like Etréstles, Aeschylus Sophocles, Euripides and comedian like Aristophanes.

She thought she has understood it clear
That love is only a game to play
When she feels bored and out of place
Someone is there,  a game to share with

She understood it so very clearly
A game of heart, so let's play it fair
To Win some, To lose some
A love game between two players
The game of hearts,
Attracting, flattering, sweet talking, seducing...
losing or winning
doesn't really matter...
the pleasure is the game...

Just a fling of romance,
In the name of a game
Steal each others heart...
and be safe and sound
a risky game...
to love for
to die for
and  to leave free upon a game over
no strings attached....understood it clear
after all.... its only a game of love

She thought the game is in the grip of her hands
understood the game so clear
Played with the rules of the game...
A game is nothing but a game...
Too egoistic to admit...
That emotions and feelings cannot be bought
can never be part of a game...
To these.....
She Lost herself in her own game
Unplanned, Unprepared, Unprofessional...
Both players were

A dangerous game... love is...
What she thought as a play of love
Is a strong flame indeed, hard to put out..
hard to cool off...
what a dangerous game of  heart
to play fire with fire
a fire of real desire...
it burns the skin so deep....

The players are hooked in the end..
lost their navigation....in the game they thought
They have understood...
What they thought a GOODBYE
after They grabbed some tokens
as the exchange of love..
is an unexpected FOREVER stays...
In this game of the hearts
Success or defeats...
unskillful Players become lovers...
attached... inseparable...
even when the game is OVER!

When she falls, she falls hard...
play not with the game of heart...

oh, what glorious things the canadians and americans think of the british, in their set narrative when a tragedy plagues these isles; mainly stressing the british concept of tolerance. well... perhaps the morbid politeness toward muslims, that the hindus didn't get, back in the 1960s? hmm... or the bourgeois media class... with their affectionate portrayal eastern european builders... well... **** me, are all my brethren builders? we all seem to be builders all of a sudden, like that's something to demean people of skill. you know how degenerate english builders are? how unskillful they are, in the roofing trade? my father can show me roofers with 20 years worth of "experience", and the photographs are worth a good long pause, and lament... they were changing the tiles on my roof, and one night, with heavy rain pouring down, water was seeping through my ceiling... scots were known to be the best roofers in the 1990s... replaced by poles.

anyway, talk of graphemes...
   polish has, in all honesty,
         four potentials to become graphemes,
i don't know how, but they could become
unique script elements...
         alas
          sz       cz        rz            dz
are in their own category, distinct from
  the category of grapheme...
                        it's almost a shame,
               the four being *digraphs...
   oh... and you know that there's a trigraph
in the english language?
             you know it, i'm sure...
                                                     y = why,
but no one will tell you that that is a trigraph,
even the dictionary won't tell you it's a trigraph,
it'll tell you why is either an adverb and exclamation
or a noun... but never that it's also a trigraph
         of what is also a monograph, represented by
y... and perhaps, just perhaps,
               this is just one of those mysteries
worth excavating from the tombs of the tetragrammaton,
and set against a rosetta stone of the modern
era...                in what becomes of
    the hebrew serif י...
                                     perhaps, well, only possible
in english the trigraph         why...
          encompassed in the monograph that's y;
and that's only one h short to complete the equation.

So you think yourself a prince alight with fire,
dynamic in your expression of unlimited creation?
But what of the fear and obstacles rising perpetually
because of your unskillful means and application?
What if your timing is off by a moment
and impatience leads to more than one undoing?
Recognize that you're uneasy. How you long to be free from
unfairly mounting regrets or mourning!
Your current approach relies too much on will-power alone;
find another way, as will-power alone is not enough.
Undam the waters of life; go deep within and seek the light.
The world is beckoning, waiting patiently for you to realize
that you are never not becoming; you will always be renewed.
Seek the Truth, without clinging to the sensation of discovering truth.
Seek the Love, without clinging to the sensation of realizing that love.
Seek the Joy, without confusing intensity for a thing's reality.

You wish for changes and emotional revolutions,
to cast aside old worn-out thoughts and constitutions.
You wish to master your psychological well-being,
tactfully blending your intelligence and imagination.
But what about the path you thought you were still on?
Do you fear you may collapse during essential maturation?
Know that you don't know where your going.
You are out of touch with reality -- place things in proper perspective!
Don't delay the inevitable cycling of completion
if you would desire your hopes to come to fruition.
Seek stability in your home, and nurturing connections.
Learn to trust and ground your feelings in satisfaction.

The two choices stand before you; but which one will you choose?
The outer path of material unfolding is easily observed.
The inner path of contemplation is a little more reserved.
You can search for it, ask for it, or even knock right on the door,
but you can never open the door, through excessive use of force.
If you sit patiently, showing all the virtue that you've practiced --
if you have the courage to dare to ask the difficult questions;
if you have the will to seek the uncomfortable revelations;
if you have the persistence to remain silent long enough to know --
then the door will open for you, without the slightest hesitation.

We track the oblique, sly fireflies
that keep popping fitfully by.

While life swarms invitingly by the side
we remain rabidly hustling
recklessly trailing
those brusque cracking stars
      ...shifty, deceptive, volatile
in onyx-bronze, raven nights

❋

We: the tenderfoot novice
bulldozed on many a graceless trip
half-cocked, peripheral, ******
and profoundly ill with pitiful

short-sight.

Afterwards, we will dolefully miss our unlived days
and stay vainly entrenched in unskillful, effete ways
to discard stiff hangovers and to naively refill
famished days-before-today

      with crackpot mirth and being oddly spry.

❋

Like an enduring remorse, life trickles aside
bequeathing wounds that refuse to cicatrize.
and now towards this passing eventide
there is no volte-face
no dice.

Agile as the wind
Fast as a pace
I sat myself in a quietsome place
Flinging hopes like duck and drakes
Who cares
Whether the spring of the flings were violent soul shakes.

Drowning in the pond of despair
My unbroken talents got hit with a theme
Which source was a desperate dream.
Opening herein gates of exploding potentialities,
The flames reached the infinity and banished dualities.

Breathing out and breathing in
Fiends of vehemence relentlessly spin
Away from the firestorms of my creativity;
I told you; I am unbroken.
Failure is a phantom I control with lucidity.

Wells of talents would gush
Over the unyielding and the powerful;
Mires of despair await the unskillful
Who bury their potencies under whining
And impede their innate brilliance
From its designed shining.

Creativity is an acquired gift
That’s coupled with ceaseless action
And outgoes mental and spirit fractures
Hurt? Work.
Crying? Move.
Crippled? Think.
Desperate? Never bend.
Griefs are mandates, failures are not the end;
Believe me, they are as viral as a trend!

Create your happiness in every broken emotion;
Groves of happiness spring out of devotion.
Yet, beware the sloth of satisfaction
It seals agility and creativity with encryption