So They Thought: Unreal Quest

Fatalities inside shoals litter unthinkable clarities with sick aplomb
Arbitrarily, strings of bodies with buoyancies poke out in the inner area.

Ratified fated tales submerged and considered as conspiracies, hail
Magnifiences, in complementing flickering glamours. Amorously they’d sail
Through, touching on rooted matters disappearing like pixilated coins.

Reproached, backed up individuals, engulfed, unable to determine their drab
Off putting guts, suddenly needed to scratch uncomfortable out breaks of eczema,
Less impulsive ones cease in weighing the seeming, while the morose grouped duo
Lamented at unhelpful resolutions surfacing at a snails pace, resting on the unredeemed.



Before clashing, over extensive hours
They’d gather Qi
Near glowing hyalite opals,
Prone to daylight fluorescence,
Flowing life energy
Directly into definitive corporealities.

Too green to be able to decipher
Codes containing wicked confidentialities,
They crouched and pondered
The outcome of different strategies.

From far off in the distance,
They hear the beat of ungulates
Growing closer to their territory,
When they began to think and see
The imminent rise in difficulties
With maneuvering in their immediate surroundings.

So they trekked from where they were
Munching on guarana seeds,
Where one fell into a pot hole
Perchance, without correctly intending.
Practicing basic theory of mind,
They poked and prodded at the fallen,
To ensure action was still a plausibility.

They proceeded to swing across ravines,
Where one had been too hasty
When they’d thought it was their turn to,
Without having checked the vine,
When the force of gravity
Happened to take place.

When another thought to inspect it,
They had found it had a sharp cut
Not much more than halfway through.
From panic, one yelled, “Curses!”
When they couldn’t surmise
How the enemy had planned for this,
As the cord faded away.


Incessant yelling herds of white pygmy antelope
Beasts resembling the dik-dik species stampede
Through quadrants, meant to quarantine,
Within nasty shocking bio dome shields
Reflecting blue filtered lights onto
Lustrous rainbow inclusions inside
Crystallized antlered horns
With tiny serrations pointing up.

Foolhardy piranha teethed armed women
Rush lush vegetation, unabashed,
Bemused at naive greenlings, employing
Deprecated just randomly learnt tactical stratagems
With recklessly abandoned basic rubrics.

They test, in brief combat,
Before pwning, retreating
Further into thickening thickets,
Shuffling in wait, silently avoiding,
To bide time to have allies
Flank and surround them,
Cutting off their escape routes
To make them retreat towards
Turrets with revolving lapis cores.

That Maybe

A gargoyle gargles diamante marbles,
Its only questionable possessions,
Amassed in its angry gnarled mouth,
Eroding away the moss that grew, but then
Accidentally spit them
Into bottomless koi pools.

In its despair it strokingly searches
Whites glinting off navy hues,
When a partial apparitional figment hardly
Illudes his vision; clear and spherical,
Infused with a deeper shade than honeydew,
It appears before him, bobbing,
Inside sweeter liquid states
Of hydrogen and oxygen molecules.

And then, coyly, a doe eyed goddess emerges
Wringing and demurely shaking excess
Water fraught in her molten form,
Exasperatingly, she smirks,
It grits its teeth, glaring at her,
As she excitedly pulls a different marble
Out from her maiden frame,
“Ahhaha. Look, it’s new”, she sighs

It wantonly thinks, exceptionally paranoid,
To itself, glad it could, maybe I can hope
And dream, on the dawn of some other day.

If That Wasn’t Known

Convinced it wasn’t just us that much less
Created this, what you could call, sod worlds,
Where downcast eyes wanted inverted versions
Where it couldn’t be not only through our not finessed
Bee line distortions caught to assuage, at a higher altitude,
Happy phenomena; causalities from benevolent extremities.

Where singularities breaking into parallels, skipped
Previously, must’ve meant that, or so we
Think, heresy that had come up in micro pods
Could be of recurring uncalled for encores.

Wisened forms losing sight descant on bewitching budding ends
That’d occur every so often when the mind’s eye would think
To safely remind them it had been proven more often than the
Notion of worlds that kept swapping where we had heard we had existed.


You turn the knob counterclockwise
And the door, freshly framed, creeks open
Into the apartment. Complex
Emotions wind through you,
You can’t put your finger on it,
Although you feel you oughta be able to,
And they’re crooning
About the same things
Or are they, thinking
About the real things
Or are they, in this dimly lit room.

You venture, the floor creeks too, further
Into the kitchen, past the dining room,
Where they sat like mannequins
With their arms splayed,
With their legs crossed,
Or were they
Standing with just smiles spread
Across both their empty faces,
Or were they torn
Out circular voids,
Into the hallway that contains
A bathroom
In between two bedrooms.
You push open the bathroom door,
Already cracked opened,
It’s dark but
You can see the tub half filled with blood.

It’s only upon waking
You realise
It was only,
A fabrication
Of a world,
Of your own.

Drifting in Weird Spaces

Do they subconsciously flow through
The same disordered spacial veins or
Have they drifted apart to be met later on,
Sank too deeply into misheard news, or
Stopped at knotted micro vessel pathways
Blockaded by clots of interrogation points,
Writ on illusory glass like cubic shapes,
Where maybe all of the above never happened,
Where tired membranes and walls meant to
Border gangs of ribonucleic acids from
What, truthfully, aught to be sailing
Failed to protect them any more
From daytime terrors or midnight reveries.