Down
His
Throat
Her arm careered

Around
His
Larynx
Her fingers twirled

And
Ripped
Snatched
Yanked, pulled, vellicated

Down
the
Esophagus
went the voicebox
And into his gut, boiling over, bubbling with acid

Sarah
told
Bobby
That he overtalked

And she forced him to eat his words.

the way an
unknown part of my stomach once
vellicated on the surface, a
quick burst, single series of
three waves—(I could even
count them)—troughs, crests, passing

the point of kiss (or dream), a
peristalsis veering off course and plunging
(up or down, in this
there is no orientation) to an unexpectedly
known place (likely another one) and I,
seeming strangely uncomfortable. Or

perhaps just light, the way it rippled
just once, one time
off the glass of an opening door, skidded
across the passing wraith that was
one of my shimmering hopes—but no, it
is more the way

the universe sounds outside of
the window, as it is still
being born again and stupendously being also
dying again. The way I am
too leaden or cloyed to shuffle feet,
throw open that calico drape.

During I was cogitating
I felt something silently booms
A spark bubbles it is, vellicating my desire.
I let down my hands collapse
but, constantly merry scared was I again
by a sparks' silent booming in front of me.
Purple, violet, pink and colour mandarin.
Glimmer, maddling, melting.
A sparks' shy bubbling coy blink
Blue, turquoise and diaphanous white.
«Stop this transcendental dance,
you'll subluxate yourselves», mentioned I.
Soon an exhilarated game overtook the chamber.
«Your tingling tickles me», said I and they scattered thorough in the air.
«You should run fast», uttered I, «for I'm going to pursue you» and bit a rose betwixt my teeth whilst rejoining them, dancing tango with extempore fashion.But having been besides them, they vanished letting me hit with my shoulder the window, looking down my blunder, grimaced contemptuously by their blundish.
«That's the matter: you are immaterial» murmured I whilst removing and throwing the rose behind me without looking back.
Thus, looking down, letting a sigh flew in the air, I laid my hit shoulder to the window and turned left my down-bent neck, letting my hair cover my face.
The sun it was, bathing the chamber, cheated by the black clouds.Its departure's time is coming closer but, early tonight.«How deluxe» murmured I schematizing a grimace of a half smile.The sun didn't see it, for only my unshaved chin was obvious to him.
«Hmmm, the dawn is inexorably amaranthine for those accomplished the impossible» I sighed turning away my indifferent sight.
I was heading immodesty to my comfortable armchair.But the sparks' bubbling, squeezing my three-days unshaven cheecks, plopped me to the sofa, dancing like a ballerina.Dazed by the intensity, I fell in a prone position on the sofa with my legs bending to my back, my eyes covered by my hair and my coat's tail covering the rest of my upper body.
Soon, yellow, green and grey, I fell ill.
«Yyoouuu vvanquishedd me luxuriously» I murmured and closed my eyes.
Having them opened I observed the rose on the floor, being bathed by sun's last beams.
I tried to catch it but, it was farther I optimized.
I looked at the sparks, who were dancing more vividly and playful.
I blew my hair,blinked and looked them again, with my eyes begging artificially whilst they passed it to me, continuing their dance.
«Oh, benevolent you are», I murmured having a contemptuous half smile.I blinked.Then my coat were fixed and my hair parted by them.
A rose, I was deliberating.
«I have to be arose» sighed I a blow against my hair, slightly.
A rose red as blood and gold of fade.
I couldn't get up.The mesmerizing fragrance couldn't be interpreted.
Then, I resume my deliberation, with my body fixed, facing the ceiling, bringing my fingers' distal phalanges together at my lips whilst the spark's bubbles were trying to lull me.
And I closed my eyes.

A spark bubbles, tickling the incessant intensity.
Intensity forever stultified.
We are neither savages, nor can become salvages nor slaved.
But we belong amongst, amidst sparkles shadowy.
Touched like vellicated babies by a bird's song.
«You are ossifying the world, please stop».
«Others melt by feasts, why don't you call them beasts?».
Who then luxuriates the corpus?
Who embellish peace?
Lotus by whom are distributed?
It's a piece of blast threshing what can last.
That neither yield nor bend.
What trending is throwing hope inside a spring's bottom.
Becoming immediately a dried hollow which billows.
Billows spitting dust and gold.
The dawn is inexorably unforgettable for those accomplished the impossible.
Constantly, purple red and pink,
glimmer, maddles, melt.
Neither calamity blooms.
Nor clarity booms.
Are we then, not all abiding.