A nightingale dives towards
mined florescent fluorite minerals
as it curtails its wings
to change its trajectorial line
to land on an approximated piece.
It twitters songs of glib connections,
with its eyes of inverted concaved florescence,
of the artificial and the natural,
of ludicrously unblinking lids.
A glass sphere of optical filters
emits ultraviolet illuminations
prior to the dusk and dawn
of one star and one fixture; redux.
While it would plead hopeful,
aghast, on this storied planet
of ridiculous magic tricks.
Emanations of grey
Airs from tentacled
Aqua cucumber skins;
Of centaurian camaraderies
Into isolated black holes.
Of crumbling confectionary walls
Of moisture filled sogs
Of fearful weaknesses
In acclimated tendencies
Of plummeting debris.
Assured the unfounded
Inside cautioned efficacies,
As their loves called
A slew of fated souls
Of unabashed stakes.
Nightmarish incubus’ 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.
Inside blocks of dotted lines from turned orders
Apricot persimmons, eccentric, iambically tenuous,
Travel horridly, entertaining distracted bodies that
Advertise vicious censures inside inevitabilities.
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.
With the light switches
For every 1.5 seconds.
I watch my eyes slowly adjust
As blackness fades
Just a little
As I listen
To the music
You listened to
And I feel
I almost feel
Like you are close
Like I could touch.
Like you said once
In moving images
In dream beds.