The receptionist takes my coat,
Then gives me a slip,
Those ticket stubs
That you hand over before you leave
These momentous lairs, after
She had written
Down my information, along
With the date and time.
She moves to the rear
Towards the rotating thing,
Her heels clacking.
Briefly, I steal a glance
She turns and stares and
For a moment, I freeze.
But I didn’t know that her face
Was going to show the
Most dazzling smile I’d ever see.
Suddenly, as if I’m under a spell, I canter
Towards this fair maiden, undulating,
For I had become hot and bothered.
She invites me over
By caressing my shoulder,
Her dungeon chambers
Through a tear in
The fabric of time and space.
This dire occasion
Where I didn’t really
Do much else
But do that dance for her,
But for some reason
This was happening.
While Fear kept braying
She’d ask for me to leave
When she finished
Sucking the life out of me.
Within the pages of a story, I
Dreamt about immaculate things;
Just these beautiful translucencies,
Where you’d fuse yourself through
Discolored doors of ADD’s ineffabilities.
Dishonesties suffused inside grandiosities,
Those inflections cattily self-inflicted,
Where you’d be the favored frequency,
Within these conflagrating pages,
Starting freshly chaptered scenes.
This recurring question:
Prone to impressions,
Dominions decided upon
Despite palpable disinterests
For loveless connections;
The behest of estranged happenstances
With corroborated reminders
From nuanced ninons–
That he was
Nightmarish incubi soared through the kingdom, icily
Crystallizing subterranean plains in alizarin crimson yields.
Frozen figures of sarcastic synergies imploring motion
Within obstructions disintegrated as farcical defiances
While lost souls cowered inside these forgotten labyrinths
Where energies were consigned to shaded hiding spaces.
Within purple coves,
We fall headlong
Into dazzling acidic
To turn away from
That corrode our
Each ravenous dive.
An underdressed Elvish Kissandra hidden
In the oak lands, sings her fortuitous odes.
She strums her harp, her hands plucking
Melodious tones as they glide to and fro
In scales that petrify our egos senselessly.
Tripping in a weakened state, she slakes
Her treacherous bloodlust with a stake,
Crudely made, rapturously laughs, then
Appears to run with dislocated joints,
Deeply plunging it into our necks.
A three eyed
Scours the dimensional plane
With glowing holographic irises
Of yellow orange hues
Of icy ultramarines.
Our three eyed
Who’d been born
From royal decent,
Had been granted
Through trials and tribulations
In warzones where it gained vision
Into stolid events of unfolding futures.
Now it stands
In its embossed skins
Formed from habitually molting,
Made to be constantly ready
In a battle mode stance.
Spiked studs, sharpened
Into slicing razor edges,
Amongst the finest
Tones of silvers
In the darkest
Of iron and
They shine brilliantly
Lusters, while our warrior
Madly shrills and stomps
Its monstrous feet
In undulating sycophant beats
In rushes of hilarity
Its mighty sweeping rapier
With superhuman celerity
In mesmerizing zipping prowesses.
Ascending in steady surges
In the throes
Located atop a cliff
Riddled with poisoned nets
Hidden under covered ditches
Where discussions of covertly
Held operations were made
For clandestine approaches
Of motivations in hideous discoveries.