I watch her gladly staring
At the verdant colored night sky,
I say something, something I can’t remember,
In essence, it was supposedly along the lines
Of, “Do you know what it feels like?”
I entertained divergent possibilities
Was reached inside a chateau
Or maybe it had not been breached
As it seemed she couldn’t hear anything
As she had not given a reply.
It was then she turned to me
And asked, “Perchance you enjoyed
Our gregarious play with firecrackers?”
When neither of us had ever
Even purchased any.
At a loss for words
I held her close (breathing
In her favorite scent), since
I didn’t know how to tell her,
Every time, it only happened
Within her gangrene memories.
Strangers, faceless, sport attractive expressions.
“They don’t really exist”, says the deer, quite stern.
“They exist. They’re constructs of the existential,
Solidified by linguistic executions or exchanges.”, the bison says.
“That’s deterministic. These things deter, from a moralistic
Standpoint. Have you seen it in reference to other times?”
“The scientific correlations of lesser Oedipus complexes,
From more emotionless lenses, with animalistic infanticides
To inbreeding or consanguineous marriages?”
“Naturally, including locations where these stigmata
Have no prevalence. If it’s a matter of time and location,
Does it really exist?”, the deer inquires.
“Fine. I guess you don’t really exist.”, the bison smiles.
“..No I.. I..
No, I suppose I don’t.”, the deer resigns.
Opposing the occident, cardinal directions without reproof,
Heuristically allow wills to break, bend, and collide.
Conundrums in hesitances; considerations to review
Neutered rules, conceptually placed, to protect.
Bipedal packs descend flat specs on comprehensive isogriv
Charts with disregard, despite astute attempts voiced;
Warnings glossed over, but some would entertain
Nuanced gains, for they’d claim, “what’s the harm.”
Fickle impulsivities dabble in a part of a focused improv
Trace, dispersing algae particles that, eventually, transformed into snakes.
Hapless trumpets from mechanic bulls dozing, were a
Perception devoid of haptic feedback that was so oddly
Within scapes of timelessness, nonetheless; ways of earthy
Yards enticingly expanding sequin symbolisms by organic formulas.
Brightly, she observes, “Can you feel the weight? Stimuli
Receptors are picking up their magnificence on resonance feeds.”
“They’re dangerous. Can’t have too much caution in significance.”
Wearily, he postulates, brushing away imagined consequences.
“Dissociative responses should be displayed on your cornea.”
“Yes, they’re there. But their temperament classification is neutral.”
“Which imported ants were delivered on
Rotator tracts with that attractive tact?”
“What do you mean by ‘attractive’?”
“‘Twas by a rundown moor,
Displayed with ample room,
Where sunlight slivers, around noon,
Lit them just right. No..on
The dawn it was, of the first light,
Where. Lately, those just born canines,
You know.. how they venture far into cave margins
To stab many a bats in their domicile
To feast on their still pulsating hearts.”
“Huuu.. this feels more like a mood
That is closer to a dreamlike doom,
Rather than something nice. I might
Be losing some sleep from this tonight”,
He frowns slightly, not trying to hide his discomfort.
“Christ. You can fucking call them puppies, if that helps.”
Touching the door under a canopy, mute,
Worn out from hazards in spaces
Where they oft handled hardware, as the poser thought to himself
..even though I know it won’t.
“Darkness is the absence of light.” Wrigt states.
“Might I, Elij, input; the trustful presence of light primarily
Grants us vision in a distant world where the calculative
Ether is ever so obsessively dappled with hazy miasmic greys.”
“Just as rivers would seemingly flow at reduced states of
Vibrating energies, callously, in it’s disinterest.”, Hawrl adds.
Lifi protests with fervour, “Callously? Callous is too emotive.”
Huffing, “This one world does not care, it cannot be given such meaning–”
“Quit wasting time analysing an analogy. They prove nothing. They are merely
Obscured truths to further explain the thoughts of those lacking
Sufficient words to properly explain a concept.” Wrigt exchanges.
“Yet, they’re capable of abstracting thoughts creatively.” Elij rolls to her tiptoes.
“Zzz.. First, offensive. You weeded I ‘lack words’ in there. Second, I used it
Just in case. I thought maybe it would be an easier pill to swallow.”
Delicate neon tetras drift and
Turn against eons of ageless
Softer flows where rocky sands
Happened to weigh less.
Randy air bubbles float
Right amongst each other
Where illusive equatorial borders
Foretold all that they wrote
Then the floras essences
Disappeared when the weather
Grew cold. Phosphorescences
Strewn in streams, clearer
Than anything else, then,
With time, indubitably glowed.