Circumferential

Fictitious soap bubbles
Travel in innocuous
Elliptical orbits
Hosting homeostasis
Of love’s statistics
Labeled as magic;
Layers of collected
Dust and grime
Thinly coat and veil,
Covering the mysteries
Of incomprehensible interactions
Of misconceived utterances
Of deciphering sensibilities
Of those intuitively deemed
Attractive.

Is it romantic,
Or is it curiosity,
Fueled by
Semantics;
Beauty;
Is passion’s ending,
In the loss of interest.

What of general
Secondary
Romances.

Crappy Titles

Crappy first liners
Pile in black crinkly bags
In how many shitty ways
Could it be dressed in rags;
The things I wanted to say,
That there was nothing finer
Then the things you’d written
That I had been smitten
The second time you caught my attention,
Though I did my best to deny it
There was no denying
The betrayal of my own actions.
I had decided towards the noncommittal
So when you first shown
In fluorescent lighting
You demolished, while you belittled
My determination to lead a life
Without romantic turbulence.
Initially I pretended
I had not been watching.
But I ended up chasing
After your prancing silhouette
Desperately trying to get a handle
On the soul you had hidden
Inside porcelain fragments.
And now that you have left
I no longer possess a smidge
Of the thrill I used to be unable
To contain while uncovering
Your flawlessly flawed existence.

Would you give
Me the pleasure
Of being able
To witness you again.

Script

In excerpts of Baudelaire
And portions of Blake’s supposed prophesies
I witness the possible origins
Of words you once had beautifully sown
In lines of supposedly earnest cacophonies.
As daily berating recollections
Of fluted notes of black and white
Lines and curvatures of symbols
In faulty imprinted flashes
Denote the extricated data
In compressions of glossy words
That were lost in monitor screens.

Whorls of possible glances of the possible
Origination of verses act as caustic reminders
Of the beautiful mechanisms of what remains
As the undiscovered mind.
As the mental cogs of my own
Can only visualise
The script at
The end.

Another Stranger

I close my eyes
And visit the future.

A future where you and I
Existed together.

I’d caress that beautiful head
And vomit words of praise.
I’d tell you how beautiful
You looked each passing day.
Your tender hands I’d hold
Forever amazed you materialized
As tangible bodily warmth.
As time would wither us both,
I’d be sure to remind you
Of how beautiful you were
That day,
And the ones that would follow.

But that’s in some fantasy place
A world where miracles happen.
Instead, I’m lost in this space
Where you don’t exist
As a lover.
Falling apart in this universe
Where you’re
Just another stranger.

Kaleidoscopic Roses

kaliediscopicrose

Blooming in a field of roses
A single kaleidoscopic
Multi faceted
Crystalline
Rose blossoms.

Unique or rare
Whatever your preference.
One of a kind,
Let’s call it.

You trap and encase it
In glassed dome casing
Preventing it from feeling
The passing of time.
Its beauty is extended
Thanks to some magic
Flagrantly positioned
Its poised on display.
Steadily it flourishes
Silken prismatic petals
Effloresce in brilliance,
Sporadically unfolding,
Revealing its insides.

Is that an insect?!
Is that a spider mite?
Is that an aphid?
Is that another one?

You find more
Nonsymbiotic
Parasitic creatures.
You get jaded,
Apathetic, complacent,
Or used to it,
Then by chance,
Or maybe
Something compels
You
Pass by another field.

This one
Has a different hue.