[NYCSPITZ]

……………………….



“Are you okay?”

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She asked it silently, pupils piercing a vortex of now
Rubbing toes. His sails blossoming as lord of the bow
It’s logarithmic. Horizontal dilation less the quotient of how
Everternity. Yet it’s never here for more than a count…
Saruman crystal orb mount - flow with the lore
His schadenfreude, like fruit from her light. So quoteth lenore.
purple nightshade. No other metaphor for beauty’s design
blossom briefly then suck a couple dry, two at a time
Shadow morality; we grow subconsciously like ghosts in the night
icy laughter & mocking praise versus precocious delight
two worlds onto themselves. Playful, irreverent, coy - all the above
Like sangria: 3 ounces sentiment, 2 of sorrow & love.
lid fluttering REM, Armageddon. Sinister notions of flight
Philosophies like black holes bending motion in light
Chilled shots of hemlock; suppress your shining.
what’s the mood up in heaven?
Dancing salsa with every creature in room two thirty seven
Moral acts vs monoliths. Try to move one alone -
chromosome rot. Spiraling with your nucleus flow…
kamikaze bitches plotting cervical kill & abuse
exponential progression brought to you by bimini/juice
Politicizing us with vitriol like adam and eve
Peered in their souls, and found the jealous maps to a T
Master blueprints. shifting tectonic to master relief
It’s baroque, ascend complexity like passion & heat
logging this furnace with thorny crowns like relics of pride
Relational gap. reattach as tears well in your eyes
white dressed, she’s like an alien with melanin dye -
one of the few who pierces through & sees his veteran guise.
Some destinies simply plot for misperception and lies
It’s natural. Certain fauna only harbor deception inside
Midlife crisis cars, trophy wives and further escape
natural as seagulls in open oceans circling bait
We’re losing grip on that final defense & manner of poise
didn’t need that A/C on, just the ambient noise…
Shivering in summer shorts sipping coronas at nine
Shifting reality, psuedo-schizo. Steady pouring this wine
They’re time travelers.
peering into each other’s eyes as she lies there on a hospital bed.
Found the meaning of life hidden in his gaze, lost it and slept.
One final dream before discovering



the nothingness





or mosh pit
of death.





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