Crown of Garland

Three thousand miles away and

Ahead of me in time.

You're there,

Somewhere,

Anywhere,

Otherwise elsewhere.

I breathe you;

Your sinful taste

Weaving across time zones.

I speak you;

Your name is a primal language

That only I can decipher.

I smoke you;

My lungs building up

With your heart and soul,

And everything feels so alien.

You're a saint emerging 

From a corner of darkness;

Materializing out from obscurity.

A warm liquid

Vaporizing

Into a stream of sensual steam.

A lighthouse eclipsed

By a swarming mist,

While the light still bleeds into the forgotten night.

Time freezes.

The tempo freefalls.

A silence.

Artless.

Wartorn.

Blunt.

Cataclysmic.

Musing with my shadow; 

The constellations above

Disperse and converge

Like celestial architecture;

A cosmic blueprint

Composing parallelograms and polygons,

Both symetrical and disordered,

Scattering about into

Algebraic formulas

Asymptotes and parabalas

Vectors and algorithms

As they conceive you

Outside the atmosphere.

Blackhole eyes 

Carnal and radiating straight through...

..something

..anything

..nothing..anymore.

You're breath

Is my heart beat.

You're a bombshell,

A spark,

Evoking a power outage;

Shrouding the East Coast

Behind a veil of misfortune.

Tangled within the event horizon.

And you and I are 

Identical electromagnetical charges,

And like neurotic magnets:

We repel.

Your matter

To my anti-matter.

Curiosity turns to boredom

Enraptured turns to mundane.

Perpendicular turns parallel and

The sleek highway of the 605

Turns to the jagged

And tretcherous

I-60

All the words never spoken,

Ringing..

Like a psychotic merry-go-round..

One syllable acknowledgments

Echoing through my head

Like a water damaged

Eagles record.

The memories dissolving

Like an old grainy film.

Dusty gold and withering away;

Attempting to stitch each last moment together

Into some pathetic quilt

With no real purpose at the end of the day.

You are out there.

Somewhere.

And this is now,

As I lie in cobwebs;

Maniacal,

Paranoid,

Brain damaged,

Shivering in this forsaken bed,

Still meditating on 

The ingredients of desire.

Reviews

[Roland Petrov]

From cosmic black holes to water damaged Eagles records.....Brilliant! There is great poetry in our neck of the desert!