It was all ARTS for me
It drew hearts in the maybe’s
With Yellows and Greens
Blues and Pinks
Until all scribbling back
Tends to the Deep dark something neat
All regards lean tall in
lived by what breathes underneath
The X longing for P
Telling the fates of many cities
Swathed in the cat calling
Speaking through O
Who doesn’t know U or “ i” ;
A soap box cart down 8th and center
From the top
They thought it was because he was a Scorpio
They wondered what he kept behind his eyes
They claimed it was because of her, but She has many names.
The Stars will always shine at night
They thought it was because he was a Scorpio
Behind the Never Minds he held his place
You know what is said about those Scorpios; it’s in the eyes, in the name , and in the face.
Somewhere else is where the pictures are falling
Flipping out of order intelligently
Capturing this moment freely
From the cusp of grasping,actually
Counterparts for torn edged hearts
The ones remembering from the start
Blackened from the heated minutes
Of time signaling the Solar plexus flexing digits
Crown of mounted fixtures
Lit candelabra of stars
When all the when’s come not as hardened
Souls on flashing Barber polls
Twelve spirit horses shadowed the bounds around a row of twenty-nine-hundred headless men .
Those heads were to be her Army, and those heads had left seven yesterdays before, again .
Queen Reality , free from her chains , and from the heart of the great Fickle King; embraced the subtle nuances of this next do - over .
What called into the banks of the dark side of the Moon was written for her; Lady Reality, the never a Princess , Queen of the Two Shores.
TheTwo Shores were a gathering of slayed sand piled upon the ore of many worlds worth of superstition, and Gold lore.
Two oceans almost meet there , as they swipe each side of the sand , almost clasping waves into hands .
The Queen of all of the almost things ...
It was no myth of the only own. The way it carried wore the waves of cosmic chatter . The timing was implicitly off ; broad, and high beamed. It was the human of the Universe showing off.
The looping perverse nature of the infinite, in regards to congenial respects for astounding instances; blasphemous.
How hard is it to believe that even God has stood there white , crowning a dropping jaw at some of the perfect triangles that this all human provision of Earth- Universal is fond of .
It was all about sycophant survival at the pinnacle folds of the great Human pit fall after the mighty Universal did reach in.
Monsters grew human heads in multiple self legions long before this instrument of the Uni was intent. . .
Digitization allowed human mind disease to chat with hot rooms from the equity of Human Extinction progression evident from euthanization , and Holocaustic history never respected.
Humans are terrible to each other, all atrocity pushed over into the shadows . The lost are among the shadows. Out there, it is a conclusion off from the point of the Mind’s Cape... open to silent ears in, weighted with fresh Mind professionals open to visionary quests sprung by elusive Human time clocks; all verbally acquilistening to the corridors of all of the rest , and all of the dead . . . forever talking somewhere else.
She was not the girl in her own memory. She had cultivated away, inside an obsession with the valley floor. She felt it moving underneath her. She was jarred , and overthrown .
She spent the days listening to what was unearthing , at the unearthly center core. She always knew that it was more than ,just, her own initiative that led her to rise above the limits she was held at .
She was just a girl, at the beginning of all of this. Everyone had forgotten , most , of the beginning .
A time came , where life no longer was the bother of consuming energy , and focus. She had become elated , by bizarre half thoughts; half stories that occur , intermediate , of experiencing something mundane , as it turns into something extraordinary.
As she began to sink and rise , into , and around the valley floor, she had many half thoughts. She took the opportunity , and merely, uprooted herself . It was not the swift type of uprooting . It was awkward , and frightening . She was wrought in the most peevish angle. She was half-way heading over her own inlet walls when she saw the backwards view into the people around her . That was when she recoiled. She toppled , from the back side of the window walls of friends , and neighbors. She , merely, uprooted herself . Afterward, she began visiting outside of her self. There, it was filled with more always than any one own inlet could ever hold.
What was unknown to the eyes looking down the inlet ramp back at her , was that she was only living there in body . The body was twilight struck, talking to crickets. She wasn’t truly there, however , She did appear set straight, and she could talk on back forever .
After , she had fallen up, and over , the inlet box ramp; could still watch as the rest of herself carried on . Although , fanciful to watch; no situation seemed needed , or overwhelming enough , to interrupt the pleasure of visiting outside of herself. She traveled farther , and near again. She came to peek back over the edges of the ramp often.
She would plant herself in the dirt with her feet. The Earth would level into her. It would call her down into it. A under routed tide would rise, from the tips of her toes, into her stomach . The water would add weight to her small size . She would feel the illusion rising , and falling against her . She would remain perfectly still . She would listen , with her head pressed against the outer inlet walls. Before the Sun began to rise , the illusion would drain. She could rise out to wander, once more.
One afternoon, she met a man; on the outskirts of herself . The regular self was composed, all alone, behind the curved eyelet hole of the inlet wall. She was painting a scene of equitable repertoire in the daytime goings about the house.
At one distinct corner of her sense of reach to inside of herself, the other outward corner outgrew much closer in perspective . Young fears were scattered , like rabbits underfoot. The rabbits wore red , green, blue, yellow , glass marble eyes.
A storm had blown the sky exaggerated in contrasting extra cloud dimensions. It appeared great castles were billowing with smoke.
The redwood framed window pane inside of the house accepted the song from the rain. The glass pelted back with timpani verses of the grey sky’s lurching hold.
Inside of the house, an arrival was being waited soft-footed across the floor . She was like silk mesh screen . She moved against her own form; meticulously,continuously, drawing her white silhouette into a performance of simple traits . Her mind over weighted all signals of distress, pain. She held corner tied to every reaching corner square . She found him , like a searchlight .
He watched her . He weighted his own words into continuing the silent moments in between them. There also stood a lighted concave creation; remarking apart his own, and what was her’s. There was a lustful waste about the minutes. He knew He would linger on there, in those frames with her, forever. If she never made it back for him he decided he would visit her there forever. She did not waver, as he set the brick , and the mortar of memory. He sat silently; describing, and building this house of ghosts on the outreaches of time.
When she broke the silence, she had a look of pensive recall stricken across her lips. She took his hand, turned it palm up in her hands.
She kissed his face, and his palm, his wrist.
She began to quiver; in the way of shallow, murky spots of still water disrupted . Sand , and sediment began to stir deep inside of her.
She searched as the ready ground found her feet inwards of her footing . A spell delighting heavy grievance cast a counting shadow, remarking a written solar “ 1” onto her middle toe. The Significance at that time was of one complete run of one measured circle.
She alerted to the visitors, perhaps seconds before they both became visible . The two stood underneath the porch roof. They were coming through the redwood , and glass , door frame.
Soaking , purely wretched from the rain ; the bounty of visitors gave into a deep funneling , inside of her eyes. She would hold temperance order , not to overflow.
It broke his heart , that she would not give way . He poured himself into her , as she turned away.
The two men outside , spoke between each other , with heads bent low. The white haired man, holding a large hooded vessle, adjusted his posture to receive her . At the unlocking of the door , the other man, who was gigantic in height , stooped low under the shelter from the rain . He was the one who had sent to meet with her. He was the one who had been sincere in the authenticity of his reasons . The white haired man was the liaison ; a Swiss man, peddler , a tradesman , a traveling given name consort to most of the strongholds underground.
Despite the honor of their outreach , the detriment of the reasons toward her had poisoned her for many days . She had been caught in haunting , held in illusion by the way of wet cast communicative witholdings .
The white haired man, bowed gently , as he received her. The gigantic man came forward , resting a large hand on the shoulder of the next. He commanded an entry , as he reached out the hand to meet with hers. The clasp was held in an upward, combined angle; a gesture signaling no words would be exchanged.
As the two men entered the indoor area , looked back, only once, to see that He had gone into the the loft. She momentarily faltered , her gaze caught on the concern from the eyes of the gigantic man’s face. He urged her in a way of care, over to the large table where he nodded order for the cloaked gift to remain.
The white haired man removed the covering, a large burnt orange glass sculpture sat squarely casting angles from it against the opaque senses of the daylight.
She felt a sensation on her tongue begin to knead sensibility into her.
What had to be done next was for the men to don the orange cast in flame, purposely proving antiquity.
She allowed the men their presentation.
She knew not how to not give in .
On the first curse , the glass held shape.
On the third, it poured inward.
On the second, what was noticed , went as regarded; that the watery illusion carried Terraform in mix .
The men separated the great glasswork with four hands. What still appeared to pour inwardly , had encased in orange glass, still moving .
The deal of a bottle was re-appropriated, and hidden with cape at once, concealing the macro-cosm inside .
She remained , lifeless on the floor.
The fears, again like rabbits, scattered once more underfoot . The two men bid out the door into the road.
He knelt down to her.
Red , green, blue, yellow marbled eyes kept dart watch. As he kissed her on her eyelids each, every changed stuffed toy rabbit stunned to lay lifeless every footing away from reach.
“ Be graceful , Mordant...”
... Softly slaughtered rabbits , under cross-stitched sleeping x eyes of requiem.
He made his way up into the road from the house of ghosts. Promising to return to the moments, just , before then ... forever after then.