You glow at me as I ripen my tendrils, plumping them up, sewn into an apple which I gave to you thru a simple kiss.

These days are numbered, she said; I opened my pages, the start is always a beginning, the end a far memory, never wanting to begone. Yet, I begot her there, cringing face muscles atrophy.

You knew, always, to give me a drama; my play always so sickening, my chorus for my own song, never ending.

I watch our brethren bathing under starlight, escaping age and believing they are light shadows, capable of playing dog.

With monster bear-crocodilian stare; and a murderous appetite for their own destruction. Poor creatures, purest featureless…

And, Welcome to the midnight sun! reversely inverted on the pale moon dawn.

Hey girl, did you hear? Nighttime kills if you have no poison, so drink it slowly…it’s a tasty solvent.

They were all moving like centipedes; I rushed quickly through them and my feet cracked; it was aright though, I knew I was old before I was young. The molasses thickened around the insects, it wasn’t keeping me. I had places to be, or at least, I thought I did. The truth was I had nowhere and nothing to go to or look forward to. I was a walking speed train going nowhere.

My interpretation of the concrete pileups were transfigured into a sort of demented surge of my dream memories and my real ones. I never really knew which I was in, and never looked to get out either. I could have cared less about which reality was the truth, as I had made myself believe mine was better. And it was.

Leaves on the ground remind me of my perfect city. It was somewhere between the north east America and places throughout Europe; although I hated Europe with a passion, I liked its antique spectaculars. Note to self, throughout this statement, try not to refer to yourself in another form of reference. Like, say what you want instead of what you mean. That way when people read it they can’t decipher if you are talking to yourself or not.

I took the air to mean that subliminal messages were transpiring somewhere far above the nimbus and the radioactivity. I took the messages as cyphers for myself, and only to ward me off from potential hazards. They never did really speak my language though, and I could tell I was losing more than I was gaining. It was necessary for my final unintended intentions. Which were, I don’t know. I never knew. That was my intentions.

Giving right hand towards the sun, it and I are held within you. Between sheets of sex and rough, it comes to and blackbirds scream. Pies on windowsills even enough to feed me too.

I came and ate all her capers. I mixed them with nuts. We frosted our eyes and curdled milk for shakes. I gave her an undying amount of seriousness.

I could never cure my illness. It ate at me, and I gave it nurse. I will kiss it when its empty but when its awake I strangle. Believe me when I say it was all with best intentions.

Shaken, firelights and flies, they gather. On the moth stained pond the glass, eager to lap at them, beats my window to it. I crave attention.

You couldn’t mind me when I said let it hurt you. Tigress was not at all pleased and I could tell when she bit me. Bleeding through my shirt, and soaking, beet red in the white, gurgled and coughed my last breath.

I secrete madness and open wounds heal with maggots. I give them my soul to devour, wholly and faithful; akin to a new beginning. I never let it down but never remember. Doing it again and again, I run towards my breathing mouth to kiss her. And we die together in our minds, our eyes set upon loneliness. I am alone here in this metaphor. Can you tell?