Night breaks.

The moon, she takes pretty selfies

If she can catch the perfect pitch of light

And she blushes.

You sleep

in sanctimonious second-sight,

Breathing eidetic dreams.

I love your Boschian garden abstract delights!

Sweet sky-clad flesh!

Light shifts the dizzying heights,

I spy a mole on your breast. Your chaste

Fruit dainty and full-light skyfall diamonds rise

And break the diamonds to

Recreates the light

Of your eyes'

Ancient cadence's sound off in glass,

Vanishing like ghost piano bars.

Settled stars, stained with blood. Stained with morphine spikes and Xanax bars.

My love

This moment, 'donne moi la main',

And you will feel hot currents through the blood

Flooding the veins of twin-flame lovers;

The scarlet blood that drains the seraphim.

Tonight, it is only us; no guardians, no soldiers of God,

I want you mine and I want you sinful.

I want you out in the night where it’s dangerous; spontaneous;

And when I doff your robe I want the angels gone;

fleeing from your sweet, secret spots,

So I may infuse you in love fermata;

You come at me with your eye of Ra,

Jutted as God's breath;

These hot never-setter star

Constellations

drunk in a squandering darkness haze.

I swim within you:

your sleep, your bed,

Upon your choral coruscated flow

Flirtation.

I dive inside your shekhinah,

I swim the gypsy riverbed

Renouncing all gods,

Stained with the oily blood of the earth.

Time; writhing; splashes in shallow

Time, non-existent- seems to, but does not follow.

I should have been the more loving one.

"Already your horn has been raised,"

I could not love you any less

Than he claims to love his children.

But I can make you more ravishing than anything!

In falls of white breakers and cool cerulean

Sprays

is the reemergence of our Virgin's raiment;

its trenchant procession above, depthless vestiges sent

In a stubborn stifling spleen from it's ascent;

Was the organized chaos of our amour.

One can not just see, but be beguiled;

Weave In its rushing spume,

It's sough of sacral-style;

- I repine in tumultuary disclosure

That I could be so malleable;

So reckless to fall in love, and repose her

For alluring songs; overflowing-adagio

A pouring drop of wash and wade

ambrosia;

And far beyond adagio-allegro,

I will bestow a rose to her

In a passion-trance-bolero cool cascade.

There's a speck of silver in the spittle,

Or at certain slants

the sun beams through the whithering clouds;

immortals wander, faces covered in their shrouds,

and tiny plashes,

The remains of their tears

merge with darker blue

And make a lighter, see-through blue,

And leaves a xanax-dreamy easy light sedation;

her coruscated flow-flirtation,

And like my love in bed, her moistured being

Sprinkled me with dew; and like my lover nude

She was a goddess for my eesome-seeing.

II

Anam Cara- sink my lotus petal aubergine;

'Ala rasi', but pronounce your abdication;

Have and behold the gold-emblazoned-sun.

I will leave you for sure my kinky-sprayings;

Birds of symmetry mingle in fluttered cries,

Said God, " our acquired choral sky was staying.

But no, I blasphemed- your waterfalls are lies,

I pithy the perception of your laden playing!

They are mirrors; or reflections of reflections,

And mirrored by reflected mirrors of reflections.

What's profounder? A never-setter-star, or

A coveted collapsar? And am I to flounder

Sphere upon sphere

Your fixed stars to Empyrean,

Having written out the ink of all existing pens?

Said all that I have needed said of poesy, because aesthetically speaking,

my eyes have seen the end....and it is....

....it is tragic...

III

What I see is what my naked-now is;

And what I'm to see remains to be seen;

Leave me to my wistful sight

And breathe the sillage-scatter in before it vanishes.

what remains to be seen, what remains

is there and it is not there at all,

It is shape, shadow, shade, mirage,

But whether seen or never saw,

It leaves with me a sillage of a sad dalliance.

Admittedly resigned by your divine law,

I impugn an immortality for me,

for the sake of aesthetics;

and perhaps this is my tragic flaw,

But beauty is nought unless beauty's fleeting.

Think of the colored-coming matutine;

Or the foam, foamed and phomy-Aphrodite;

Were they a chinese peach

Or a never-ender-dream, or a never-ending speech

Of Shakespeare reapeting "once more unto the breach,

Dear friends, once more..." Once more, once more, once more.

Sadness seeps in a sort of melancholy swoon,

Like a stroller sun stuck on the moon;

Darkness masterbating earth with it's long louring,

If I cannot see the falls, is the water still...?....

Tragic....

Take me home; I've seen much, fought in many wars;

Take me home before I'm subject to the God-maraud

The scene arranges itself

Like a cherub heavy breathing, in a rage,

Ripping away a cottony cloud.

An increasing madness shimmers,

Held pendentive, simmers back,

Is hung,

And as fast vanishes;

She keeps her head erected, meditated

In such softly spiraling hair, fair glimmerers...

Open the luminous mind of your third-eye enchanted,

everything you've seen and understood-

They would say to you: "leave us your wishes-

'luctor et emergo,'

"Leave us your dreams, and fire..."

The subterranean rose that holds infinity

Makes all the Heavens weep,

Makes them want to die.

The beaters of your heart are knavish;

Their power of mastering ambulant passages of true effulgence,

True tri-powered light

like the apotelesma of Sirius

Inara;

I am shining on your light, born of fire;

ambush of atmosphere.

Always I think of your eyes

seeking the captive throne

behind the veil;

Within your sunrise silhouette,

beckoning for better things,

Summoning your fantasies sed non satiata,

Lusting for jagged fashion in her enterings.

I feel them lustre in nocturnal silk,

And I know this is how your body tastes,

My dark goddess,

How your sensual form embraces me,

Seducing my lips to kiss your abdomen,

Here,

on your sweet rondure,

'lux aeterna' dreams and endless shores

in the reflection of your eyes on mine;

And I'm breathlessly weak by soft vision,

Reflecting the sun’s radiant meira.

Your eyes: I love to watch them watch ephemeral beauty from balance

And sure death.

The Poetic- once and for all;

because

soon the cerulean ceiling of Heaven will fall,

But your beauty, as my Muse, will keep my words

Cascading with the waters of your constellation,

Until all the best has fallen,

and we all become crest-fallen.