Please hold me. This figure that resembles a woman now, Some 15 years too late, Is that of a frightened nestling. Escaping the memories, Where angular fulcra, Threatened to splinter under your palm. ~ Please show me. How the other … Continue reading
Change is magnetic, The craving for something, Fresh and new, exotic and inconceivable. some Dis_..jointed transition From where you are now. ~ Don’t confuse this lagging delineation with, The scrawling of a hysterical blue crayon. … Continue reading
They say that I brux, A four letter word with no exclamation. It’s the name they give to the pain, Of trying to grind your body to dust. Of trying to keep the scars from bleeding Of trying to forget … Continue reading
Under the feathered incantation. Waiting again, For the bodies in the road, For the dog to smash its head, For you to choke on nothing. ~ Time and hope become crystalline. It’s always the same. Bifurcated into parallel planes, Observing … Continue reading
Your sweat smells different, More sour, When it’s laced with fear. Liquid terror running down In rivulets Sprung from droplets Profound and desperate To escape from your pores. Let’s bottle it all, While you shiver, And use it as warpaint. … Continue reading
Wouldn’t it be lovely if science prevailed Continue reading
A glimpse of your puckered face, says this soup isn’t to your taste. I boiled down the bones of my thoughts, But it only enriched, Fractured texts in gelatinous forms. Amorphous gobs, Tacky and corrosive. Gummy with … Continue reading
On a night of ferocious joy, You catch me, dangling feathered charms again along the bow. Your face contorts, Just please let Jupiter explain, Why I don’t dance. The sky is static now, Freezing my demeanor, Splaying out my panic. … Continue reading
Always looking down, With craned necks, To glimpse the moonlit surface. ~ Just a little drop, Of someone’s fear, Falls into every well. ~ A sympathetic breath, In the shadows Seeps into all the fractures. ~ Maybe just a mark, … Continue reading
On days where coefficients become imaginary numbers,
You suspect that deviation is becoming non-standard,
That integration won’t coordinate your thoughts,
And that darling Nernst was potentially a trifle fixated.
On Sundays you’re worried about regression,
That backwards sloping tide of linear thinking,
Denying the possibility of a many-tailed fish.
But are your aquatic fears myopic twice-over?
You can ask me just one more time about the errors our ways,
I’ll even fetch you a cup of tea,
But please don’t test me,
I’m significantly more numerically challenged than you know.
(c) Accidental Tentacles 2017