an eye of a crying female: 1

June 23, 2010

I.  rain, pouring…WHO IS IT he’d for-ever wondered, THAT CRIES? rainbows, thick and miniature, swarm; falling within magnificent drop-lets, exaggerated with concentrations of air and myth…MOTHER! her moods were among the most atmospheric of the legends…YES! moments fully-bloomed through violence, so perfect, so seldom understood; every subtle expression, conception, life and death swirled, mixed; each blossom was both a new-born and fresh-corpse. but dawn too had come…BRILLIANCE! a soft intelligent, spreading color, faint and finespun; aerial blends, deep and vaporous…FATHER! AND SONS! universal wars, conflicts of inner and outer spaces; turmoil gathered, roaring with the blasts of distant flashes; wishes burned alive, efficacious reflections fell heavily upon men’s vulnerable souls, leaving sun-burnt shadows; left intentionally to inspire doubt, mounting conflicts between the very shade of them-selves.

clothed only in dripping flesh, he ponders freely…WHO! quiet, earthly amazement’s…AH! newly cleansed, the air hovered helpless, admitting openly to the odors of both pain, and pleasure…WONDROUS! “VICTORIOUS!” softly, a personal whisper. though instantly changed, he remains, forward, standing, sharing the energy of him-self with the world, and it’s expanding horizon. waves crashed and collided, hundreds of feet of fresh beaten rock, forever premature. “IS A MAN EVEN GIVEN THE CHANCE TO LEARN?” three long breaths pass-away the abundant moment; momentarily frozen, his mind becomes lost, taken and replaced, insight climaxes into madness, vital chaos turns, churning, elevating all internal nature higher and higher; instincts flash in unison, then still…SILENCE! a fundamental element.

“SENTIENCE!” BEAUTY! naked and fully aware, he turns, mind and body. his eyes discover vision; atoms spin, circulating virgin blood flows into tissue and bone; his supple, active muscle pumps absolute and certain. he stands attentive,  an immovable servant. “HEY.” a gracious hand lays atop his muscular shoulder…THE WARMTH! taken aback, he remains astounded…THE LOVELINESS! fairytale and glorious, his mind had enormous trouble comprehending such pure, and very real  perfection. “SENTIENCE?” “YES?” “WHERE DOES YOUR MIND GO…” two affable hands, placed friendly upon his bare, stony chest. “WHEN YOU SEE ME?” words play no role: brilliant blue-sky eyes begin to glisten, intricate and immaculate, they confess a truth so intimate, his soul’s own belief in it’s-self reaches a new degree of quality and fulfillment;  self-affection settles slowly in…CALMNESS! radiance and wet flesh alter, smoothing each-other, soothing ripples. she smiles. “HAVE YOU LOVED A WOMAN…” minute facial changes, they sharpen; her pupils, like flowers touched by an awkward new sense, open, “PHYSICALLY?” heat. sweat. uncertainty. “YES, IN MY DREAMS.” her state heightens, untested air becomes combustible; an inner blaze, fueled by an organic imagination, startles her; joyous shivers. “AND THESE DREAMS…” a directed ray of light shone, briefly, through the solidified sky…MYTHICAL! spirit-full being. “HAVEN’T THEY A CURIOUS EFFECT, DON’T YOU WONDER WHAT IT’S LIKE?” aura and melody, his attempts to balance see-saw. “IF I WEREN’T ASLEEP…” slowing rain’s a constant reminder of the possibility of moisture. “I WONDER IF I’D HAVE THE STRENGTH.” she strikes with a kiss, raw and uninhibited. steady knees buckle. he finds magnificent curves, such unbelievable construction; firm and bountiful. the notorious moisture inspires suction. she steps back, infectious. “WELL…” cerebral sparks power a moment of dizziness; a phenomenal, mid-section sensation, was stirring. she too is delicate to this occurring sensitivity. “HAVE YOU ANY-THING ELSE TO REALIZE?” a sensational grin. he stands transfixed, and breathing. wind concerned, comes gusting and blew; goose-bumps. “THERE’S PAIN!” speed, cheetah-like; a trained arrow-blade.

II.  with-in a lush gathering of trees, disregarded essence hovered, drifting, rich-earth soaked; decomposed hearts, natures pulse was beat-less, yet pleading; an over-joyed, inflicted-pain went planted and seeded. seven infected lay about, but 1, lazy and over-filled. sound-less, he approached, his core afire, afflicted and roaring. “HELLO.” a cannon; inaudible vibrations blast away, leaving unprotected nerves open to austere motion, anxiety and fear. the stranger, with an authoritarian hand gathers the others close. “MY NAME IS SENTIENCE.” fear perspires into terror. “BY THE LOOK ON YOUR FACES, I CONCLUDE YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT’S GOING TO TAKE PLACE.”  he circles very slow…CIRCULATION! shapes and directions, memories arranging, forming and pointing, placing function to plot, life’s ever-evolving design. “YOU MEN ARE ILL…” animal in opinion, his mind existed through instincts, what he’d suggested, to him, was absolute fact. “YOUR DEATHS…” eye to eye, love and pain mixes, a blue-sky tint. “ARE IMPORTANT.” planning death, he stands silent and still, watching; every fiber attentive…STENCH! power and control, a horrific odor had lingered in from behind. “AND WHAT IS ALL THIS?” plump and hair-less, an earth-sore stood in white, escorted by two-others; each hidden in deep-gray cloth, attempting to disguise there obvious cowardice.

“THESE MEN ARE ILL.” destined into a situation, what actions proceeded should be considered just; and played along to an awareness of completion. the new-comer grins. “I’D AGREE…” he laughs, “THE POOR ARE A SICKNESS.” a rising thrill. “ARE YOU FAMILIAR WITH THESE MEN?” “YES, THERE UNDER MY PERSONAL EMPLOYMENT.” “YOURS?” “YES MINE.” SACRED! “AND YOU TAKE PERSONAL RESPONSIBILITY?” “FOR WHAT?” “FOR THESE MEN.” HESITATION! “SURE, I TAKE FULL RESPONSIBILITY.” once again a meditative cycle began…LIVING MOTION! focus and realization. the body-guards became stiff. another autocratic expression. “WHAT’S ALL THIS ABOUT?” sober and relaxed. “YOUR DEATH…” further laughter. “MY DEATH, BE SERIOUS…” his eyes had closed…IN! OUT! IN! honest breaths; he takes one left, side-step. “YOUR OUT NUMB…” (THWACK! THWACK!)  two men fall, dying, clenched arrows extending. “WHAA!” alone, the delicate-man, immediately, feels the sense of living; the whites of two eyes glow.  “HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHAT I AM?” “ILL AS WELL.” “I AM THE KING’S SON!” “YOUR DEATH…” patient and quiet, the cutting of a puppet’s strings. “IS IMPORTANT,  IT’S EXAMPLE WILL REMIND…” frost-decaying keep-sakes, whirl, around and around; a man’s axis, frown and mind. “THE OTHERS, THAT LIFE IS VERY PRECIOUS TO THE LIVING.” “THE LIVING! BUT THEY’RE DEAD.” “DEATH…” close, intimate whisper, “ILLUSTRATES EXISTENCE.” what struck, was connection, splintering. “AHHH!” grace-less, he fell, screaming; his pain, well spoken, was realistic, a true opportunity taken to grasp life, and understand the actual experience. he kneels; his knowledgeable vital fluid told a coordinated tale: descriptive and crimson, by mixture, the movement was quick and convincing; the throat gave in, and spilt; blood and soil, the man lay still, free, his illness cured. “THERE’S NO NEED TO BURY THESE MEN…” 7 petrified, stand enslaved by the reality witnessed. “THE FOREST WILL TEND TO THEM.” awesome and tranquil, the rooted creatures welcomed the on-coming decomposition; never fully grown, thirsty, blessed spirits. camouflaged, there breathes hid, resting, in the very thickness of own atmospheric souls.

VICTORIOUS amerges; balanced and confident strides…HONOR! eyes close, he ensures the memory’s security and clarity. “THERE’S A LARGE NUMBER OF MEN GATHERED AT THE SOUTHERN EDGE.” beside him, her scent rages; fragrance and fidelity mixed with feminine divinity. “AN ARMY?” “NO…” an imposing gesture, “LIKE THEM.” slowly they crept away, but 1. “YOU!” “YES.” “COME HERE, PLEASE.” floating in thin skin and etching bones, a young-boy cautiously approaches. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME SON?” “LONE-SOME.” the sound held meaning…CONCLUSION! and it’s echo ease…CESSATION! “WHAT WERE YOU HIRED TO DO?” “CLEAR 300 HUNDRED ACRES.” flashes, sudden and quick…A SLAUGHTERING! VICTORIOUS held the shaft of her retrieved, and dripping arrow-blades. “THOSE OTHER MEN WILL BE TROUBLE.”  “I’VE NO DOUBT.” “I’VE STILL A CLEAR SHOT.” premonitions became like painted-feathers, nightmares and black-birds; the living within him read what was to come…PAIN! glory and rest. “SON, IF YOU’VE NO BELIEF IN DEATH, I’D SUGGEST YOU START HEADING NORTH.” a parting nod, his agitated hands become intertwined behind him, he walks slowly away. northern-winds come like an ushering-guide, sensual; it’s light-chill inspired his spine, shivers tingle up and down as delineate visions…HELLO DEPARTURE!

III.  Victory shot arrows as day entered dusk…AH! SEDUCTION! the burning called, kindred question; lucent, orange and yellow, the first request day held towards evening; night soon surrendered, easy, day’s heat possessed an irresistible quality, light entered shadow, penetrating organ..SILENCE! loitering nothingness aggrandized in drum-fire, indistinguishable undertone; moon-beams highlighted the umbra through absence and precise tardiness; neglected recollection, thoughtless, faded belonging, he remains comfortable, sipping wine, in a pitch-dark, disconnected tension…UNCORRESPONDING! foreign perfection.

clumsy and disrupting, distant foot-steps grew louder. “VICTORY! VICTORY!” “SHH! BRUTE, I’M HERE.” “WHERE? I CAN’T SEE!” “SO LISTEN.” over-mastered senses, whimper, over-worked man-child. “VICTORY! VICTORY! AH!” he arose beside him, placing a hand upon the man’s massive shoulder. “PATIENCE BRUTE, PATIENCE.” such advise brought only worry; large, the misinformed man sought the shine from polish, not insight. “NOW, WHAT IS IT?” “VICTORIOUS…” “CAUTIOUS BRUTE, MY SISTER’S NOT TO BE DISCUSSED LIGHTLY.” “YES! YES! VICTORY I KNOW. BUT SENTIENCE…” “HE TOO IS DEAR.” “HE’S MURDERED AUDACITY!” proficient senses screen, a filter trapping falsities, untruths; diluting lies, keeping and collecting any possible validity. “IMPOSSIBLE! ONLY THE INFECTED MURDER…SENTIENCE REMAINS LIVING.” odor, heart pumped, laboring sweat tells like an illustrious traitor. “DON’T BE AFRAID.” “BUT! THE LIVING!” “YES!” like a butter-fly confused, he’d found it hard to trust the flower. “YOU!” “THAT’S RIGHT.” “AND VICTORIOUS?” “ESPECIALLY…AND YOU…” magic, told black, clouds his bantam mind; unwanted and undesirable struggles take ahold, a mental cripple. past sores reopen, abuse like indescribable puss, seeped; drenching, flooding pain…FRIENDLESS! his understanding double-crosses, life in an instant returns back to a violent and permanent stain; he collapses. “BRUTE!”

IV.  PETS! Victory stares down upon the envisioned hole; a door, the everlasting end, and last invitation. dripping, drops, a muscle endeavor; his efforts were obsessed, possessed, dirt and shovel: inch by inch…DEEPER! layers were stripped away…WIDER! an influential design, circular portal; an earth-born pattern. he climbs out, and circles, slow; immediate the effect, global; something inward, reawakened, subtle individual cells, telling, confessing…LIVING! injected truths, alive and dying, in bodily harmony. he places the man’s resting shell; blood and soil, doors opened and closed. on a knee, “WAR!” softly.

V.  Lord-Ego sits in candle-lit, flickering, darkness; he stares, not too hard, into the pulse-affiliated shadows, reflecting an old man who sat glaring back…HERE WE ARE AGAIN! safe, sad, disenchanted, replicating wall; the most life-less of 4: smudges, evaporated tears, yester-yrs, dry and long dead, unscented, trails of wax…YOUTH! an energetic air rushes in. “HELLO, UNCLE!” he discovers ahead, atop his back-right shoulder, a pair of  eyes…SPELLBINDING! arrays, saturation and strength. “AUDACIOUS!” bliss, a memorized description. “YOU’VE GROW.” “I HAVE.” her beauty’s a resemblance to authentic achievement; chiseled, soft, her frame stood complete…MECCA!

“ALTHOUGH I’VE NO MEMORIES OF YOU UNCLE, YOUR NOT WHAT I REMEMBER…DOES THAT SOUND STRANGE?” she watches her uncle’s likeness smile. “NO, NOT REALLY…I WAS MUCH YOUNGER WHEN WE LAST MET.” ALIVE! collective scribbles, mere pen-picks on the cerebral skin. “YOUR VERY THIN, ARE YOU ILL UNCLE?” raw bones and diminished optic-sparks, “NO…” spiritless embers, a soft pulse supports  a slenderizing motive ,  “ONLY FORGOTTEN.” her hand appears atop his chair; a debilitated, crumbling throne. “WHY DON’T YOU EVER VISIT?” an open closeness, actual energy; mental rings and bells, soundless, whistle and blare. “VISIT WHOM!” “THE FAMILY.” “WHAT FAMILY?” “YOUR FAMILY.” youth, clueless, hilarious riddle. “CHILD!” softly; he stood, ages three paces and places a perceptive hand upon the wall; a smooth and covered heart. “I’VE A DELICATE SENSITIVITY.” felt-less beats, his pretending organ ticks fictitiously. she too approaches; 2 pairs, shiny diamonds, the brilliance continuously quivers, reflecting shades of both life and death. “TO WHAT, UNCLE?” dust settles, dust stirs; his hair-covered face and head begins slowly to turn…CLARITY! such eyes, such certainty. “TO THE LIVING.” tinge and heightened tints,  glowing and ablazed, a most-inner sensation, “THE LIVING!…BUT THERE, DEAD.” “YES…” his gaze lowers, “I KNOW.” her perception ripens, clear, a delicious remembrance, “WAS IT YOU! UNCLE?” “I?” shaken emotionally, vocally stricken, “EVER SINCE I CAN REMEMBER, I CAN HEAR THIS VOICE: IT’S STRANGE, TELLING THE MOST WONDERFUL STORIES…” he sat, collected, recalling a time of life and explicit light. “UNCLE?” “YES AUDACIOUS, IT WAS I; UNTIL THE AGE OF SIX, I WOULD READ YOU BED-TIME STORIES…YOU WERE THE MOST ATTENTIVE CHILD.” she’d begun to pace, bullied and pushed, an internal, deep, e-motion was growing speed, “BUT WHY YOU, WHERE WAS MY FATHER?” “YOUR FATHER WAS CURSED…” “MY FATHER’S KING!” self-protecting, glossy and close-fisted, tear-drops fall. “YES, BUT HE’S POSSESSED BY AMBITION…SUCH EAGERNESS, BUDS ONLY THROUGH THE OTHERS APPROVAL…” bare-feet, dirt and soil, a tiring altercation, “AND SO COMPROMISES…” softly, “OVER-GROW.” she’d stopped, her hardness mellows, discovering a tender, vanishing-man. “YOUR VOICE HAS CHANGED, BUT IT’S PRESENCE STILL REMAINS.” “YES…” gray hairs, concentrated bubbles, “AN ENERGY, I AFRAID, THAT’S VERY SIMILAR TO WHAT CIRCULATES IN YOU.” heavy-brow, pressed by octagon thoughts and misshapened sounds. “IN ME! WHY DO YOU SAY THAT?” he smiles, a subconscious effort…ANOTHER MISPLACED, PARADISAICAL SHAPE! “IT’S JUST SOMETHING I FEEL.” “AND WHAT’S TO FEAR?” quiet-hideaway, stale and repetitive air. “I FEAR IT WILL BECOME EXHAUSTING IN SUCH A PLACE.” unequivocal expression, sweet, parting lips, effulgent windows; a view only wishable. “PLACE, UNCLE?” “LIFE.” bubbly quietude, a passing moment slowly fizzes out.

“WAS THERE SOMETHING YOU’D LIKE TO TELL ME, AUDACIOUS?” “YES…” she takes a step closer, “I’D COME TO TELL YOU AUDACITY HAS BEEN KILLED.” “YES, WELL…” blunt inter-mixture, a form common and praised, “IT HAPPENS; WILL YOU MISS HIM?” clarity, uncontrolled and free. “NO, I CAN SAY CLEARLY I WON’T” likable chuckle, envious, light-hearted and gentle. “CHERISH THE OBVIOUS, IT’S SO SELDOM NOTICED.” “HE WAS KILLED BY A MAN THEY CALL SENTIENCE.” chills…DELIGHTFUL! “WELL THEN IT WAS PROBABLY YOUR BROTHER’S FINEST ACHIEVEMENT.” “DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN, UNCLE?” a quiet refreshment; he feels momentary revived. “THERE’S NOT ANOTHER ONE LIKE HIM.” he stands, and bends slowly forward. “STRETCHING…AHH! YOU MUST IF YOU DON’T ALREADY…AHH! WE BEGIN TO STIFFEN LONG BEFORE DEATH…AHH!” flexible, fresh marrow and growing bones, she watches with a thrilling sense of development.

VI. he ventures upward alone, climbing…SLOWLY! an unforgiving, spiral staircase. “PACE YOUR-SELF, OLD-MAN.” patient steps allow his mind, and thumping heart, to settle more easily into the active, oncoming enlivened, oxygenated blood-stream; fluently eroding the stagnant fat of time and restless flesh…OH! chilled and assertive, air awaited…IN! OUT! IN! “HOW WONDERFUL!” an early-afternoon gracious sky, blue-canvass, confident promises…SO LUVLEE! apprehensive shooting-stars,  dissipated trails, dreams and memories; suicidal sun-beams happily executed, evaporated forgiveness, dehydrated  mercy.

through a magnifying tube: a galloping horse, amber like honey, magnificent air-blown hair; flowing dark strands, faded, a slow diminishing shapely gift. he sits self-preserved and gentle; subtle surroundings, changing, indefinite dimensions. his durable stole held, he drifts…IN! OUT! IN! suspectable floating odors…ACTIVITY! atop his circular, medium tower, he stares level with swaying tree-tops. “SUCH FINE SPECIMENS!” he’s stirred, a numbness had begun to tingle in-between his ankle and buttocks…CIRCULATION! a bodily carving; suggestive delirium…HOPE! like proper telepathic smoke.

VII.  domesticated, cavernous  eyes and minute pupils stare out, deaden and life-blinded; unseen consciousness, buzzing insects and emitting  flower pedals. Magnate, arms folded, takes in only property…MINE! unheroic square, high-built tower, he stands the same as so many before, an unmemorable man-king; unfelt, a passing reposing breeze, unappreciated flowery scent, awakening, he conquers an oncoming budding sneeze…CURSED SEASON! he scrutinized, dry eyes and an aching head, worth from the height of a stacked coin; concluding, with metallic finger-tips, the world’s weight through the adequate, and adored thickness of personal gain.

SOME-ONE APPROACHES! the tower’s fabricated-greatness probes his inebriated mind, blurring the opportune glimpses of colossal beauty: feminine, it’s natural caliber was multiplied, yet refined, by a galloping motion; a thunderous connection of hooves, echoed, lifting the rapturous-spirits of both horse and rider…AUDACIOUS! a petrifying direction…THE SIX-MILE RIDE! like falling from an enormous altitude, there rose an immobilizing sickness; his blubbery physique trembles, the heavy fur-cloak felt attached, an angry suffocation…SUCH PAIN! heat, an envious sweat beads his hairless face, and ashen forehead. “DOES SHE DARE TO BETRAY ME?” anger, accumulated barbarous cells, surface; an elephantine crown pitches badly, faint-tints of pink, his glabrous, peeling scalp; blackened flashes, a glowing redness pulsates around him…I’M KING!

mighty and benevolent, a cool gust of wind strikes again, the saturating ease, this time, takes; steady and sincere the control…WHAT IS THIS! a fading visual collection, violence and ritual; he kneels, clear pictures of sympathy humble and startle him. “I’M SHAKING!”  hearty throbs console his malnourished ear-drums…MY HEART! a restored flow of blood, avarice clots rush open; a life-time, poison and sickness, he falls flat upon his right-side…BETRAYAL! self-absorptions begin seeping, outward, reflecting spots of perspiration run on-to his parched, blueish lips…INDULGENCE! personals conquests, this spreading liberation’s slow, a dull-pointed blade enters with an overpermissive thrust.

VIII.  STROKE! STROKE! STROKE! operating brains-cells, molecular pressure, a venturesome mind surges; rational calories contribute religiously, an enlightened and ideological burn. “I’M SURE HE SAW ME!” to her-self, she goes about enthralled, firm and gentle downward brush-strokes. “YOU’VE  SUCH  BEAUTIFUL HAIR.” though an astute, judicious queen, the esteemed majestic creature stands grand, collectively susceptive to the on-going affection, the warm-hearted, young-woman gave. deep pleasing aroma, sweat and straw; piles of nutritious grains. “THERE ALL FINISHED.” her supple left-hand passes lightly across…COZY! soft amber-hair and creamy disguised flesh. a caressing, parting smack upon the muscular back-side. “FAREWELL MY PRETTY-GIRL, DREAM WELL.”

upward, her gaze; crafted and dramatic, sockets of perfect curvature, an inferior sun-beam reflects off two sparkling, sea-blue sapphires; white and distorted, an expanding spot of brilliance. like a transmission between warm-spirits, she feels a charitable flush, pink and humane, a sympathetic refreshment rises from with-in; divine and ripening, her enthusiastic soul sought growth…THE BIRDS! THE BEES! unfolding, vast in significance, the delicate-existence of life surrounds her…TULIPS! AND BROWN SOIL! ample and forever, the eternal world held it-self open, wide, and welcomed.

a passing cloud, swollen with atmospheric compression, softens the brightness in her eye…FATHER! obnoxious in size, and unremarkable in stature, the king’s personal tower: large sun-bleached rocks, like mummified tomb-stones, stood caked in the blood of slaves and disconsolated moss…GOOSE-BUMPS! sheer-coldness, her impressionable essence, still elegant, with-drew a subdued shiver. friction on svelte skin: determined, she rubs-in warmth, cleansing child-hood impurities, heat and compassion, a recuperation by a motion-inspired fire.

escorted along by swift foot-steps, connecting sockets and bone, she moves adamantly forward…FATHER! gripped and tugged, her thoughts are reminded of a confrontation that never came…I’M SURE HE SAW ME! a thrill, like clashing steel, led the way with a companion’s eager cleverness. through exaggerated door-ways, and unenlightened passages, she confronts the befuddled maze of unjustified greatness…ROYALTY! time-worn, transparent and thin; her attentive intuition’s crisp, the mounting-strain of the tower’s abruptness fails to intimidate, but instead magnifies the young-woman’s intent to comprehend such things as one’s nature and being…BREATH! enkindled and alert, her capacity for life filled: steady, imperative elements, perspicacity and air.

like a skillful blow, “HAA!” she’s taken quick by the lack of breathable ventilation…LIKE DROWNING! an extravagant view, northern mountain-peaks and eastern ocean-waters, shocks…HOW’S THIS POSSIBLE! it’s copious openness felt smothering…SUFFOCATION! a growing pain and dizziness, she steadies her-self, leaning heavily on the inner-side of the tower’s imitating crown…IN! OUT! IN! she straightens, taking calm shallow breaths…IN! OUT! IN! sedately applied, patience evenly relieves; the troublesome ache smooths, her mind relaxes, eases…FATHER? the king sits, huddled, deeply burrowed in the opposite corner. “FATHER!…WHAT’S HAPPENED?” gradually his head’s lifted, blood-shot eyes attempt to grasp the on-going consequential scene. “AUDACIOUS!…” an anhydrous throat cracks, swallowing inhaled granules of dust, “IS THAT REALLY YOU?” she approaches slow, continuously aided, “YES FATHER.” by the arduous angle of the altitudinous pillar. he watches…HER FIGURE! strange oddities, youth and beauty, startles an oxygen-deprived mind; his face, succinctly appears, strangled. “FATHER! WHAT’S WRONG?…” she’s knelt beside him. “ARE YOU IN PAIN?” intensity fades, slowly, color and disturbance, the king smiles, “NO, NOT EXACTLY.” “THEN WHAT HAPPENED, YOUR FACE…” his hand extends, cautiously, touching mildly upon her’s. “IS NOTHING LIKE YOURS.” curious finger-tips, there movements are amiable and considerate; “IT’S BEAUTY WOULD RIVAL YOUR MOTHERS.” immediately vertical, though yanked, she stands; watery-eyes, a trembling-lip stammers. “MY MOTHER!” intermittent, fat and impassioned, tear-drops high-light her dazed expression. “YOU’VE NEVER ONCE SPOKEN OF HER.” the king’s idiosyncratic expression’s held, “THEN I’M A GREATER FOOL THAN I REALIZED.” energized by the peculiarity of the moment, the sweating king, painstakingly, stands. a rush of flowing-blood: his body wobbles and titters, a minute backwards fall; he regroups resting on the 4-foot wall. “WE MUST LEAVE HERE, AND NEVER RETURN…THERE’S SOMETHING TERRIBLY EXCEPTIONAL ABOUT THE AIR UP-HERE.”  individually, they move gingerly upon the man-operated-lift; side by side, hands intertwined, they descend, unhurriedly, together.

IX.  ten-dozen cremations, the glow of slaughtered youth…ADOLESCENT FLESH, BURNING! glistening eyes listen, wide, out-spreading echoes have brightened things…(POP! SNAP! SNAP! POP!) crackling pain, blistered air, the dying lungs of reputable timbers; incinerated, man and brain-cell. he sits, honored, breathing…IN! OUT! IN! by day-break 120 men would be hanging: twitching feet and toes; sacrificed ornaments, fore-telling, free-handed, warning.

fat-glowing moon, wish-twinkling stars, each an enchantment, describe the evening sky. with mutual empathy, a man and a woman, thrive; each encouraged by the others creation. “YOU MUST HAVE LOVE, I THINK, TO SURVIVE A WAR.” this effeminate mental object, settles, with inclination, upon his evident heart. “AT LEAST WE’VE THAT.” his words are like an unequivocal, satisfying blanket; she huddles closer. “DO YOU REMEMBER THE LAST WAR, THE WAR OF EGO?” “IT’S VITAL I DO…” a calculating swirl, definitive thoughts, symphonic, a necessary mixture of explicit notes. “WARS ARE WHAT ALLOW PEACE IT’S VALUE…” his expression tightens; it’s lucid, deafening. “SADLY, WITH-OUT THEM, MAN WOULD ACQUAINT PEACE WITH BOREDOM.” again she pulls herself closer; the warmth between them equals seraphic radiance, or the physical-act of thunder.

(SNAPPING!) broken sticks and twigs, deep secrets, a forest’s reliable, trusted defense. unconcerned, the enveloped pair sit, as if rooted, calm and accepting. the dark figure moves swift, light and coordinated paces; it’s a familiar skill. “VICTORY!” “YES.” proficient light, moon, yearning beams land, exhibiting a face of courageous features and operative green eyes. “HEY!” 4 hugs elapse, endearingly, this favorable get-together. they sit, soft earth and firm tree-trucks. “I’VE SOME WINE, IF YOU TWO FANCY SOME.” intoxicated canteen, hand from hand, minds begin to stew. “SO, THE KING’S SON…” the comments left to drift; it’s light, yet heavy, wound tightly with a pending dedication. a wandering-fog lingers, care-free; it’s natural softness relished, absorption and mist. “AND SISTER, I HEAR YOU FOUND TARGETS FOR YOUR ARROWS.” “YES BROTHER, THEY MADE FINE TARGETS.” “YOUR SISTER…” he pauses, purposely, and seizes the intimate moment; he stares, like a child…HER EYES! lost amongst a verdant, beloved star cluster…CONCEPTION! the finest collaborated design, reason and intention.

(LAUGHTER!) his mind returns; he finds her smiling, “HAS THE WINE MADE YOUR HEART TIPSY?” he shares a comradely grin, “YES…” he lifts her hand, “IT HAS A RATHER AGGRESSION SPIRIT.” a soft kiss strengthens her own fortified quintessence. “CAREFUL…” softy, “YOU MIGHT FIND WHAT COMES NEXT EXHAUSTING.” persuasion, a thorough brain-washing; the passing seconds were believed, allegiance and fertility, a systematic impulse, two assiduous cores were burning. “SHALL I GO..” with ease and humor,  “IT SEEMS THE WINE WAS GOOD, AND DRUNK WELL.” his words cooled, the febrile buzz abates, exertive hormones slow, time once more ticks. “NO NO MY FRIEND…” he stands, collected perspiration drips, “PLEASE STAY, I’VE A SUDDEN NEED FOR A WALK.”

an elementary stroll, alone, he walks quietly along the forest’s edge; contemplation and solitary motion…THE LIVING! reclusive diamonds, observant, mystifying propellant coals…IN! OUT! IN! on a knee, his hand enters the earth, prolific soil, nourishing dirt. “SOME-DAY…” softly, “PERHAPS TOMORROW, I’LL BE LAYING UPON YOU BREATHLESS…I OFFER EVERY-THING, EVERY-THING BUT MY SOUL…” air and cycled breaths. “MY SOUL HAS ALREADY BEEN SHARED.” he returns; tenderly, another placed kiss. he sits at her side just until dawn; she’ll wake, not alone, but beside no-one: 120 men hung, twitching feet and toes.

X.  “FATHER! WE MUST STRIKE BACK…” a testicular weakling,  “BUT THEY…” “HUSH GOSSAMER…” feminine, her posture, bodily and mind, she held limitless ability, “FATHER IS VERY TRIED. YOUR WINING IS MISERY ON THE NERVES.” deranged, the king’s mind clears, memories spring ablaze, blackened; opaque, a past of understanding, missed…THUMP!THUMP! he stares ahead, a beaten-heart pumped…THUMP!THUMP! spreading, it’s continuous, a wretched, off-color bruise. an orgy of truth, mesmerized, dangling beings sway…THEY SWING SO EASILY! departing, the motion of so many dead, fascinates; he’s awakened by the enamored touch of his own confronted-self…REGRETS! migrating birds, humming, radiant pedals upon dirty flowers. “ARE YOU LOOKING FORWARD TO A WAR, SON?” “SHOULDN’T I FATHER, THEY…” “YES I KNOW WHAT THEY THINK.” ever-alluring, blue disguise, pulling, captivating miserable space; self-spoken and self-addressed, dwelling secrets…DRIP! DRIP! drops from a perforated bucket and poisoned well. “WHAT VALUE HAVE THEY, IF ANY?” frightened, a feeble son looks unto his elderly father, sheltered eyes confide terror. “BUT THEY MADE YOU KING.” KING! like an unobserved wallop, the sound inflicts the same…SHAME! “YES, WELL WHAT WE EVENTUALLY BECOME CAN BE VERY DISQUIETING.” “BUT FATHER, YOUR KING.” KING! a further unpleasantry. “HUSH!…PLEASE, I’M PERFECTLY AWARE  OF WHAT I AM.” the distant massacre once more takes ahold: his mind finds such combination’s…UNRECOGNIZABLE! it’s display, an arrayed enigma of purity, madness and beauty. “AUDACIOUS…” an arranging brain, pictures from a reflecting iris; she stands, tender, sensitive to what the night before had inspired. “WHAT IS IT ABOUT DECAYING MEN IN TREE-TOPS, THAT MAKES YOU SMILE?” DEATH! hypnotized, nerves and dilated pupils, her inveterated cerulean eyes, illustrate and form, explicit mental depictions. “THERE’S SOME-THING IN THE WAY DEATH HAS BEEN EXHIBITED…IT BRIGHTENS THE COLOR OF LIFE, SOME HOW.” soft and slow, repeating echoes…DEATH! EXHIBITED! COLOR! LIFE! third-eye innovations, she’s startled and confused; yet the sense it makes feels like nothing she’s ever felt. “YOU SOUND AS THOUGH YOU’VE BE TALKING TO YOUR UNCLE.” “I HAVE, DOES THAT MAKE YOU ANGRY FATHER?” something warm. “NO…” mirthful. “MY IMPRESSION…” odd. “OF HIM SEEMS TO OF CHANGED.” “WHEN WAS THE TIME YOU SPOKE TO YOUR BROTHER.” BROTHER! curiosity, vibrant flashes, penetrating syllables and mysterious lights. “WE ARGUED THROUGH-OUT THE WAR…” SPOKEN! an extended mess, unkempt memories appear faded, imaginative tears. “IT WAS A CONTINUOUS ARGUMENT THROUGH-OUT OUR LIVES REALLY.” “DO YOU MISS IT, FATHER?” “PERHAPS!” softly.

“FATHER! THERE’S A MAN…” the king’s heart jumped, the speed of it frightened him, “THERE! DO YOU SEE HIM?” the spooked king attempts to follow his son’s pointing, beefy finger. “DO YOU SEE HIM, FATHER?” “AH YES…SENTIENCE!” “THE MAN WHO MURDERED AUDACITY?” “YES, AND NO.” strange happenings, the comely warmth grew; visions, like buxom concepts,  prepares his unpracticed mind. “I DON’T BELIEVE HE’S CAPABLE OF SUCH THINGS.” “BUT FATHER, THERE’S WITNESSES.” “YES I KNOW, I’VE NO DOUBTS THAT HE’S RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR BROTHER’S DEATH, AND I’VE LESS THAT HE’LL ACCEPT THEM.” “FATHER!…” softly, his daughter’s expression had become intrigued. “WHAT IS IT ABOUT AUDACITY’S DEATH, THAT MAKES YOU SMILE?” silent grasp, a patient etching. “AS YOU SAID, AUDACIOUS, THERE’S SOME-THING TO THE EXHIBITION.” he stands heated by activity, creation, feelings with physical details. “FATHER!” softly, her darling hand offers his. “YES!” “SHALL WE GO AND MEET HIM?” a wonderment of circulation. “YES!”

XI.  a mourning  father, innate and indigenous, surrounding siblings; he’d saw it necessary, for him-self, to be seen; jubilant to the idea of contact with the day’s adversary: 30 yards and closing, he watches, curiously, this man labeled king…WHAT WAS THERE TO FOLLOW! poor, poor deplorable sheep, numb, yet wool-covered…FRAGILE AND SLOW! ever fading, the reach of this man’s throne, with every approaching step, recedes…PHENOMENAL! an accumulating strength, oddly, steadily fills in the space between them…THE GIRL! permitting creature, eyes afire, her movement’s effortless, yet the potential she attains is infinite.

“MORNING…” the king’s free-hand extends.  “YOU CERTAINLY LIVE UP TO THE STORIES, THEY TELL ABOUT YOU.” fresh breaths…IN! OUT! IN! help exploit the impurities emitted, discordant exhales; tried, corpulent lungs. “STORIES ARE JUST TALES; UNFETCHABLE THINGS, THEY LOVE TO CHASE.” the king’s unaccepted hand drops; he’s silent, the eyes his meet spark feelings of familiarity, there clarity and brightness express the range and possibility of any given emotion; yet, he feels…NOTHING! numbness, virtuous, this surge of such balance paralyzes, his obese frame falters; threadbare knees give-out. “FATHER!” assisted, she lowers him to ground. “WHAT’S HAPPENED?” “HE DOUBTS.” paralleled, their complementary-eyes meet: shooting–stars, the auroral gleam of a single universal shot. “DOUBTS!…” softly, “WHAT?” “EVERY-THING…” palpitation, an inner fluttering, sentient blood engulfs her exerting heart. “IT’S THE NATURE OF AN INFECTED MIND.” “INFECTED! WHAT MAKES YOU SO SURE?” he raises, slow, his focus moves upon a group of approaching men. “BECAUSE HE’S KING.” his eye-lids close, and open: an ingrained switch, alchemical forces open on-to adherent muscles and bones; blood-cells, white and red, forge, a well-conceived heart concocts precise, meticulous beats.

stepping forward, a gentle prevention, her hand has taken his. “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO?”  he looks down, conscientious features leave him momentarily speechless. “WELL?” “RESPOND AS NECESSARY.” with the aid of his chimerical strength, she stands. “PLEASE…” the affection heightens, “WAIT HERE, IT’S ONLY MY BROTHER. HE’S YOUNG AND FOOLISH.”  “EASY PREY FOR THE OTHERS.” “YES, EXACTLY.” she energetically sprints away; once more, he ceremoniously watches…BRAVO! a testimonial puzzle: vivacity and articulation, artistry and grace, a thoughtful formation of immaculate pieces.

he turns upon the fainted king. “HER MOTHER MUST OF BEEN EXUBERANT.” thought-provoking, his words pierce, slam-bang, into the king’s thick-skull; his eyes open. a quaint-smile forms. “WHAT’S HAPPENED?” “YOU’VE AWAKENED.” he requests assistance; standing, the king’s stability gains strength. “WHAT’S THAT ABOUT?”  “YOUR DAUGHTER’S ATTEMPTING TO SAVE THE LIFE OF YOUR OTHER SON.” this assessment too, probes, an influential puncture arouses, the king’s head begins to shake. “HE IS AN IMPRESSIBLE SORT.” his outlook relaxes, he adoringly watches his daughter return. “HE WISHES TO SPEAK TO YOU FATHER; THE OTHERS HAVE PUT HIM INTO A FEVERISH STATE.” sad, fatherly complexion. “IT’S THE MOST CONTAGIOUS THING!” softly. “WHAT IS, FATHER?” “ADVOCACY.”

XII.  motivated insects, high-spirited bug, living enormously, a surrounding microscopic world; tiny, sprouting  buds, mythical, archaic trucks; red-blossoms, a green-leaf reflects of warming, evaporating dew. bathed and naked, VICTORIOUS lays aroused, drying: erected nipples, slow, feminine understood finger rotations; thirsty pores wet and glisten, pristine flesh, pink-roses, a ripe-color opens…THUMP! THUMP! euphonious pounding…IN! OUT! IN! effective breathes, oxygen- climaxtion; contortion, elevated pelvis and excellent muscle-tone; euphoric, relaxation. bathed and naked, VICTORIOUS lays motionless,  drying.

XIII.  black-sanded beach, late-afternoon reflections and circling footprints, Lord Ego walks carefully within aged impressions of his younger-self. “SUCH A CONFIDENT STRIDE I HAD!” softly. unforgivable, tightening strings, trier, sore-dogs rest. thick white water, gentle bubbles, an oval-shaped pond; dark patches, abundant, shore lackadaisical turtles and frogs. soothing amphibians, delicate, exceptional specimens; hidden and privileged, he lays privately embedded, tall grass protector. pitch-colored crystals offer vindication, suffered muscles and bones ease; angry tension sinks. handfuls of sand trickle through enervated fingers, pleasing memories and precious grains.

XIV.  “BUT FATHER! WE MUST RETALIATE…” pricks upon a wore ear-drum,  “WHAT WILL THE OTHERS THINK?” “HOW-EVER THEY LIKE.” softly. melting, inspiring sky-light: orange brilliance, over spilling crimson. “WHAT IS THE MATTER WITH YOU FATHER?” distant, envisioned mountain-peaks, soaring, reachable heights, the king’s 3rd-eye-lid feels the pull of neoteric insight. “I’M PLAGUED BY THE NATURE OF THINGS.” desperate, kneeling son. “PLEASE! WE’LL BE THOUGHT COWARDS.” “YOU SHOULDN’T WORRY SO MUCH, OF WHAT THE OTHERS THINK.” abashed, the young-man stands, and begins pacing. “I DON’T UNDERSTAND; YOUR NOT MAKING ANY SENSE…” wrung hands and overwhelmed, subliminal comprehensive, the boy’s stress escalates. “WITH-OUT THE OTHERS, YOU’D SAY, YOU’LL NEVER SUCCEED.” “YES…” softly, “SUCCESS…” far-off, sun-covered peeks, fired-likeness; incandescence, fallen, slow gathered, tender-crafted flakes. “SON…” acceptance and pain, “I MAY END-UP APOLOGIZING FOR EVERY-THING I’VE EVER SAID.”

XV.  one hundred pelicans, navigate and attack, dignified splashes; working birds vanish, then surface, mouthfuls of imminence and fish. early morning currents, brightened embers and warming tenderness, a hovering blanket of compassionate, ethereal flames. a man stands clothed in thin, sea-based, inner-woven fibers; deep hues imply contemplation and sorrow. incoming waves crest, then break; golden-sand pulls and tugs, his bare-feet sink; entrenched, a binding connection becomes fixed; now secure, he cries.

“SENTIENCE!” softly, she finds the distance between them unpleasing. “YES.” “ARE YOU PLANNING TO SNEAK AWAY.” he turns, struggling with the fabulous drawing force of the land beneath him; his eyes keep nothing. “WHY DO YOU SNEAK AWAY?” “IT MUST BE NECESSARY.” “WHY?” “BECAUSE IT HAPPENS.” a striking face readies it-self.  “AND YOU’VE NO CONTROL? YOU DENY RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR ACTIONS?” “I DO…” a pliable expression forms on his secluded lips. “MY ACCOUNTABILITY REST AMONGST THE CONSEQUENCES.” her lips too comply to the playful mood. “PITY.” she stands…ELEGANCE! with greatness, her neck, steady and slow, rotates; she begins to stretch. her bodily form inspires not just men, nor their accomplished artist, but the very cogitative, atomic particles that continuously swirl in the air they breathe; sprouting in only nurtured cerebral tissue, they lay dormant until the host’s mental pictures soften, giving-in to the essential affection necessary for growth; finally, when awareness blooms, baring fruit of an open-mind. “THERE’S AN INCREDIBLE JOY THAT COMES WHEN WE FULLY UNDER-STAND WHY WE DO THE THINGS WE DO.” senses spirited, he lowers him-self to a knee. mind-blowing postures and idealized contours, he witnesses absolute beauty, caliber and transformation, the mental-scene before him changes; his intellect sharpens: a dripping tree leaf, a mountain’s carving stream, conveying tides upon the ocean’s welcoming shore, a flower’s evaporating soul…TEAR-DROPS! abundant strength and ample quality, he stands a man, inept, his mind’s capacity full. the moment’s significance had suddenly warmed, sweat begins to glisten atop her laboring skin; sensual movements become vigorous, motion and friction mix; perfection and conception, every exposed pore luminous…LIFE’S EXPLICIT LIGHT!

upon obedient knees, he submissively watches; all individual enveloped perceptions lost; his earth, her fire, wind and water, eaches conceived satisfaction becomes one. a long over-grown numbness dissipates, a rush of blood, a growing muscle, he stands anew; a virtuous construction, honorable erection. she too stands flourishing, her face flush, thriving, rising bosoms. he attempts to stand, but stops; a new expression has surfaced: her pink-lips are aroused by a passing tongue, defiant green-eyes turn indefinable; something cosmic, not one ordinary star, but a galaxy of an infinite number, suns and super-novas. seductively, she undresses; with each removed piece of cloth, she steps closer. in every step, the throbbing builds, he remains a paralyzed boy. most magnificent, naked creature, she stops: 3 inches of resplendent heat separate a woman from a man.

“SENTIENCE!” softly. “YES.” she leans forward, conquering the sublime space between them; breath, all so gently, she breathes; sumptuous air touches his ear: a quiver, like actual penetration, moves through him. with trusted hands atop his goose-bumped shoulders, his fated ally, steadies her man. “NOW DO YOU SEE HOW WONDERFUL IT CAN BE…” provoking lips touch; easy, hyper-sensitive ear-lobe. “WHEN WE COMPLETELY GRASP THE REASON WHY WE ACT UPON A THOUGHT WE’VE CONJURED UP.” a believable, tender kiss is applied to his aching, reliable shoulder; she leaps off, self-fulfilled, toward the open-sea; cool water embraces her own fervent skin: she lets-out a proud feminine yell; harmonious and in perfect tune, she swims.

XVI.  though wrapped in black curtain, the king’s son seeks out dark-corners, tip-toeing from the bowels of  aphotic-shadows; his chronic, querulous state remarks upon the earth’s insufficient mass of cover; perforated, animated canopy. “CURSED TREES, HAVE YOU ANOTHER PURPOSE BUT TO SUPPLY MAN WITH COVER.” escaping from the castles view, he stops, his unbeloved, opinion-riddled heart pounds; heavy breaths make feudal attempts to exorcise a disheveled soul. air passes through him like an angle through currency; poor, poor assembly. lacking soft-light and organic substance, he stumbles along; an imbalanced, fragile structure leads him with imaginative shackles. “CURSED FEET, HAVE YOU ANOTHER PURPOSE BUT TO FOLLOW MAN’S DOMESTICATED PATHS.” a smile, perverted, crawls across his cadaverous lips, he knows many, like him-self, have traveled this exact path; decrepit foot-prints of cattle and sheep; popular, fashionable massacre.

passing scents, pine and marigold, breezy tree-tops and distant, brotherly snow-capped mountain-peaks; fertile-colored birds, hot-blooded flying squirrels, an amalgamated, hopping rabbit. a living exhibit, an euphoric offering, sound and ambrosial color; secret-less and obvious. he begins to feel uneasy, such wild clarity, his inebriated minds-eye sought only the corrupted sights of propagandized traditions: genuine ignorance and unimaginative fables of domination, possessing a naive, tamed savior…AHH! gold-coins and head-stones, an embodiment of history, treasure and annihilation; a portrait of senseless kings holding the minds decapitated slaves.

his uncoordinated pace slows, inflexible, doughy fingers grope…AHH! he coddles: dangling, sack-like purse. “HOLY-BREAD!” “HOLY-BREAD!” he’s come upon the 1st of three commercialized out-posts, manipulated by plump-men, in dirty-white robes; with axes. their hairless heads and faces are willfully blanketed by deep hoods, methodical shrouds of prostituted-fibers, protecting eaches ailing identity from the nurturing warmth of the virile sun.

on a knee, he contributes a soiled coin into a bucket of a splash-less liquid; opaque seeds, like atramentous blisters, dripping drops of a discontented water: he drinks…AHH! metallic-sweetened puss, “DELICIOUS!” drinkable, fermenting souls. he rises, dispersing infection, blood and cells. “HOLY-BREAD!” “HOLY-BREAD!” he continues on, beaming, towards the 2nd of three commercialized out-posts, manipulated by plump-men, in dirty-white robes; with axes.

XVII.  late-afternoon giving-sun, 1 thousand christened flowers, a sitting yellow marvel, miracle giving insect; an impossible in-flight wonder, buzz, buzz, tenacious delicate wings. fruit-trees and dripping honey, radiate melting hues, life spins a perfected cycle, 1 million visible clues; distant emitting, hives, smell and exhale…HOLY-MOLY! AUDACIOUS lays, expanding; fully sprawled-out upon the ground of a vibrant field. tiny, exciting beings, move and explore…THE LIVING! consumes the air around her; dilated and picturesque, her eyes reflect, softly, the azure-sky. an inward uproar has begun rising…CONTEMPLATION! odors and shapes, vibrations of color and sound, her mind is soaring…HOLY-MOLY! healthy breaths, resting, an ebullient heart beats within symmetrical pumps, absolute even. a passing humming-bird, stops, hovering above. she laughs, floating notes pass-away, leaving homo-phonic ghosts. harmonized, she sits abruptly up. “THERE’S PAIN!” I FEEL IT! dark clouds, “SMOKE!” engulf the southern tree-tops. three-dozen strides perish; she runs, lungs aflame and burning.

XVIII.  WHY DO THEY LAUGH! he watches the king’s men throwing torches. “LOOK HOW QUICKLY IT’S SPREADS.” she stands in the twinkling shadows of flame and setting sun. “YES!” he held no grudge towards the growing wild-fire…FROM FIRE TO ASH! courage becomes visible, expelled through the spreading of hot oranges, raw and vigilant hues. “WHAT OTHER PURPOSE HAS A FIRE HAVE, BUT TO CLEANSE WHAT IT TOUCHES…” steam, crackling pops, sap and sugary bubbles. “AND THE TREES, NO OTHER BUT TO SHARE IT-SELF, SO THE LIVING CAN BREATHE…” BUT MEN! “MAN GIVES NOTHING, BUT TAKES…” crisp and elegant, a graceful dance, ablaze. she’s mesmerized,  her eyes project life, and descending expiration’s. “MAN MUST POSSESS SOME PURPOSE…” scrutinizing pupils, “THEY MUST!” thinning air, struggling breath. “BALANCE!” softly. he kneels, and gently traces the outer-pedals of a purple flower. “THERE’S NATURE…” his finger moves, slow,  it’s rotation resembles that of the moon’s incrementing orbit. “AND THEN THERE’S…” he stands, staring…PITIFUL AND SHAME-FULL! visions of  insanity. “NATURE…WE CAN’T HELP OUR-SELVES; MEN DESTROY WHAT LIFE CREATES…BALANCE!” softly. she and her brother stand quiet; corresponding minds have warmed, sweltering feelings and momentous passion.

“THEY’VE HAD THEIR LAUGH…” side to side, his connecting spinal-cord’s stretched. “NOW LETS HEAR THEM SCREAM.” arrows flew, piercing, wounded muscles and bones; attached ropes become usable lassos; heightened tension’s pulled, nefarious laughter turns into interrupting pleas. dripping punctures are carefully licked by dog-hungry flames. men hang like wicks, high-grade, appropriately consumed, ravishingly, by the very fat in their buttery flesh.

XIX.  horrendous things and unpleasantness, greet her. she’s come upon an unfathomable scene…screams fade from drooping-mouths, bubbling skin form new complexions, lip-less and featureless; swelling eyes, in bulge and confusion, confess through barren aqua-ducts; fear and truth have been eternally burnt. her own lively-eyes tear, venomous and confrontational, a concentrated smoke blurs her over-focused out-look. kneeling, she breathes…IN! OUT! IN! relax, a calming-determination burns. looking, she discovers fading images to her left. up and running, “HEY!…HEY!” these demands barely escape, possessing little sound and less persuadence; her throat’s tightened, it’s constriction hurts. “HEY!…HEY!” three figures walk on without haste, even strides and budding confidence. they hear the hampered concerns, but reason there’s nothing to explain.

over-taken, they calmly stop; eaches demeanor is completely at ease, level breaths and unassuming eyes. “WHY DIDN’T YOU STOP?” she crouches, her internal flow’s choked; painful coughs and defensive discharges, mucus and spit. he extends his canteen. “DRINK!” with every swallow, comes a growing reassurance, a subtle coolness brings a comfortable smothering effect. she stands, recovering. “BETTER!” “YES, THANK-YOU.” her breathing slows. “THERE’S MEN BEING BURNED ALIVE!” “YES, AMONG OTHER THINGS.” his full-beard sparks like a copper-flame, spirited rust. “IF YOU LET YOUR-SELF LISTEN, YOU CAN HEAR THEIR VOICES AS WELL.” “WHAT GIVES YOU THE RIGHT, TO DO THIS?” “THE AIR I BREATH.” “BUT THOSE MEN HAD FAMILIES THAT DEPENDED ON THEM.” cozy and fine, his expression sits. “AND WHOM DO MEN DEPEND ON!” this rhetorical-question echoes, crackling and distant pops; snapping, ghastly notes rose in each enriched cloud of on-coming smoke. her eyes disclose genuine concern, but the search appears endless.

“CLOSE YOUR EYES, INHALE, AND HOLD-IT.” “WHAT?” “PLEASE!” softly. rebellious, her eyes, at first hold his, then close; inhaled, an educated breath…DARKNESS! hiding truths and unconceived insights; seconds of passing wisdom quickly grows, the heavy pitch begins turning: dark reds and suffocating blood-cells, she experiences an immediate need to let go; her eyes open and begin breathing, stars and elevation. “I FELT SOME-THING TAKE AHOLD…” “THE OBVIOUS…” softly, “THERE’S LIFE, AND SICKNESS IN ALL OF US…BUT YOU CAN ONLY FEED ONE.” her head droops, and her eyes again close; she hears far-off secrets and passing foot-steps, this lyrical mixture of sounds hum; a symphony begins, of both sympathy and pain. upward she turns, her eyes open sky-ward, the evening’s accessible eye lets it-self be seen. “YES…” softly, “I MUST EXIST SPACIOUSLY AS WELL.”

XX.  ebony, abysmal and far-flung, the space behind resting eyes; asleep and drifting, unbounded floating souls ignite, enlightening paths both sleep-walked and conquered; overwhelmed dreams gather, clash, countless mourning-windows close; breathless, a thinning air blows, perfect and suffocating; third-eye’s gasp, concurrent nightmares shape and invade; chaos offers friend-ships, incandescent hand-shakes signal a coinciding pain, 1 million eroding spines; hunchbacked minds sample, over-consumption, time and arrogance breed; tick-tock, an off-spring on an infinite sickness, spreading fevers, contagious sores drip, leaking vanity saturates child-hood fancies; nature’s rivers and streams, waterfalls and rainbows, cease; crackling flesh, odor and stench, decaying-souls, plump carcass, pitiful gas; lifeless cadavers stir, buried, awaken; primal seeds, subconscious pupils, revive beneath a thousand layers of rotten soil; forgotten infants, fresh-sprouts, growth and surface; potential ripens, quick and wild, swaying nourishment; mental blossoms reopen, light and circular, radiant flowers re-energize underdeveloped sleeping-minds; perfume, like feminine myths, embosom the delicate, precious reposed; waking freedom, expansion, cerebral and limitless; magnificent frontiers unfold, life begins breathing independence; iris’ brighten like stars, shades of magic and wishful-thinking; crisp, bountiful air, the 1st original flutter; insecure hearts inspire, beat after beat, red-blooded creatures feel love; cold organs thaw, warming liquids flow; the compassionate, yellow-father rose, slow.

XXI. clairvoyant,  a substantial-mass of smoke and fog; like resourceful tides, it billows, moving slowly through the imperious trees. light winds entice and allure, motion and swirl, frivolous chunks dance, dispersing themselves artistically through-out the animated thickness. knee deep with-in, the king walks, vaporous glimpses, time-less, an unceasing-pain surrounds him…SHIVERS! AND CHILLS! though watchful, his weary soul feels touched, an unfamiliar delicacy persuasively sweeps-in; deep-tissues, he pulls back the fur-coat’s heavy sleeve. “GOOSE-BUMPS!” softly. discolored and trembling, his arthritic-fingers become curious. “HOW STRANGE!”  intrinsic-pressures, his emotional vocal-cords hem and haw, an unusual tightening, like a hereditary-hand, grips; hampered swallows, the king patiently finds his breath…TREMENDOUS! focused air; concentrations, both his and the lingering atmospheres, actively charms his own raw-ability to comprehend…THE LIVING! afloat and light-headed, the king collapses; within a theatrical-upsurge of raptorial mist, he vanished.

XXII.  a lone skeleton walks; youth-full, a young pubescent-frame…THE FOG’S LIFTING! stupefied, the tender-footed boy stops. “THE NORTHERN EDGE!” softly. frame and concoction, bewildered eyes, attaching tissues, his burgeoning mind finds a complete, and cultivated view…OPENNESS! exposed and defenseless, sheer range, space and vision, the young-man stands perfectly still; his brain’s operating functions remain overwhelmed…MONUMENTAL! a reflecting vastness absorbs; slow and vulnerable, his mind, sensitive, steadies the rate of penetration…THE SKY! though immortal, pierces, like a pair of opalescent-eyes, both heart and soul. “INAMORATA!” a supernatural mistress; she towered. cloud disguised, her mysterious summit puzzles the fathoms of the young-man’s healthy imagination…NAKEDNESS! girls in bare-flesh; movement and surge, he’s touched, recondite parts, his brain’s a place of infinite signals: butter-flies and curiosity, a robust chemical mixture. Lonesome, accessible and unobstructed, steps forward a boy transfixed.

XXIII.  behind gold, pearly-gates, the king’s son feels a complacent thrill…SUBMISSION! conformity and obedience, he moves along contently. compactly neighbored, people and stone-buildings, the populace gather: small-talk and trade, men, women and children comply, each devoted to the primordial sale of each others soul; compromises and greasy-residue, they thirstily barter underneath fashionable hoods; pungent shadows engulf their sunless faces. wet patches puddle upon ashen robes, the after-noon warming flare soaks their encumbering costumes; shackled odors, men, women and children, a breeding stench is voluntarily exhaled; struggling breaths and indigestion, bluish complexions divulge the retarding of circulation, flow and introspection.

“HOLY BREAD!” “HOLY BREAD!” he’s given a cup, diamond-blemished; he sips, slowly, the metallic liquid…AHH! drunk on poison, a spine-less mind easily detaches; his coordination numbs, a cordial imbalance takes control…COZY! stupidity, weakness and ignorance, he gladly hands away total responsibility; undependable legs and delinquent ability, he stumbles, fierce impatience, he yearns another…HEAT! an inferno, luminous, oxidizing cells, blood and memories, something carnivorous grew. “I’M SO THIRSTY!” a murderous surge stifles his mind’s capability to grasp satisfaction; a hunger like no-other, asphyxiates.

“HOLY BREAD!” “HOLY BREAD!” another coin’s been dropped; he gulps, snot-like, the reddish contents treads, desirably slow, down his throat…AHH! receding screams, pin-picks and disease, he feels the steadiness of the 2nd rush…PLEASING! confidence, like transmittable phantoms, seizes guidance; transparency and muscular thinness, he moves instinctively along, happily bullied and pushed…HOSTILITY! coherent and bustling, a touching disaffection rouses an earlier, purposeful idea…VENGEANCE! bloodshed, vicarious and commissionable, he anxiously seeks out the houses with hallucinatory roof-tops and full-bosomed men holding axes.

“HOLY BREAD!” “HOLY BREAD!” influential, though nutrimental, the coin’s consumed within the coagulated slop. gorged and sold, the two malnourished men step aside; he enters, sluggish pupils immediately contest the embellished light of a rambling number of candles: the odor of melting fat staunchly lingers. eight antediluvian men, insecure and ponderous, sit in a horse-shoe shape atop oppressed, heavily cushioned chairs: pot-bellies and anorexic back-sides. collectively inconvenient, eaches withheld actuality acutely ruminates upon a small fire of empathetic embers. hidden safely behind darkness, their despondent eyes glisten with regret and subservience.

“HOLY BREAD!” mumbling, like gullible-mud, his impressionable demeanor’s reshaped to sorrowful mood of the pressurized room. indistinct echoes unsoundly raise, stagnant and detached, each man recites the obliged social greeting. “I’VE COME TO OBTAIN A DEATH-WARRANT.” scarcely louder, his much-practiced declaration’s momentarily ignored. “YOU ARE THE KING’S SON.” like a misrepresented criss-cross, an embroidered patch upon the boy’s right-shoulder holds the speaker’s attention. “YES.” power and fortune-understanding, the symbol’s affiliation grapples the flaccid charisma of the ancient-men. “MY FATHER…” confusion and tribulation. “HAS NOT BEEN HIM-SELF.” heads turn, a unison of meddlesomeness. “IS THE KING ILL?” “I’M AFRAID HE’S BEEN FERVIDLY INFLUENCED BY ANOTHER.” “BY ANOTHER…” an audible trinket, priceless, glitz and curiosity, “THE ONE YOU WISH DEFEATED?” “YES.” “AND WHO IS THIS MAN?” “HIS NAME IS SENTIENCE.” air, though 200 below, freezes both cogitation and sound. he’s quiet, surrounding flickering candles, distressed by the charged aura of their esoteric expressions. “SENTIENCE…” repeated knowingly slow, the speaker’s very cautious, “HE’S A MAN OF G.O.D.” speechless, the boy’s an imperceptible instrument; fear, personal and physical, tightens it’s grip around his baggy throat. “BY YOUR POSTURE SON, I’D WAGER YOUR UNFAMILIAR WITH WHAT EXACTLY THIS MEANS.” “YES.” cryptic and disguised, a smile cracks the waxen-face of the speaker. he coughs. lurid secrecy, like communicative spores, fills the petrified air. 8 men, in perverted-harmony, calculate, reconsidering the boy’s worth through a tainted arrangement of twist and distortion.

“DEFEAT IS MAN’S GREATEST FEAR…WOULDN’T YOU AGREE?” “YES.” “AND DEATH IS LIFE’S GRANDEST…” the speaker stops, a sudden affection, spirits and other invisible things, touches atop his balmy skin. “BUT FOR MEN OF G.O.D…” the new speaker’s also observant, speaking heedful. “THERE’S AN ALMOST VIGILANT PURSUIT TOWARDS IT…THE-LIVING, THEIR BETTER RECOGNIZED AS.” “YES!…” the king’s son straightens, feeling he better understands what’s being said.  “THIS MAN SENTIENCE, IS CERTAINLY ONE OF THEM.” once more all surrounding  space, atoms and intellectual cells, tenses. again he stiffens, taken aback by the immediate effect this man’s name makes. one-dozen quivering twinkles, each candle’s exhaustion brings web-like strings of grey smoke.  “WHO EXACTLY IS THIS MAN?” silence, deep-blue and smothering, settles like a permanent indecision; he stands as motionless as he can. 1 man pokes nervously into the halcyon, glowing coals: oxygenated-sparks, active-entities and blades of fire, rupture upwards. “WHERE NOT ENTIRELY CERTAIN HE IS A MAN.” exploratory beams of sun-light abruptly seep through, easily penetrating the wall’s multitudinous cracks; bright and potent, circular rays mark the room with vivid spots. dreary gasps begin escaping-out from the men’s fatigued lungs. upright, they hurry, moving appropriately about. “WHAT’S THE MATTER?” “THE LIGHT! DO YOU NOT SEE IT,  BOY?” “YES.” “AND STILL HE REMAINS UNAFFECTED!” justly in-place, the men begin whispering. each periodically glancing towards the overwrought boy. “SON, HAVEN’T YOU ANY KNOWLEDGE OF THE LIGHT?” further flustered by this on-going puzzle, he’s unresponsive. “LIFE GIVES TO DEATH THROUGH WHAT THE LIGHT TOUCHES.” escorted by a provocative sense, he steadily feels a seductive yearning climbing up his arm’s electrical fibers. looking down, he discovers an effulgent white-spot contently-resting in his left-hand’s exposed palm. slowly turned-open, he gingerly bends the elbow; raising higher, his detailed hand is seen closer, and closer…IT DOESN’T MOVE! clenched and opened, 3 fleeting attempts leave his new condition unresolved. “WHAT DOES THIS MEAN? WHY DOES THE LIGHT REMAIN?” a traditional-moment of silence augments the boy’s overexerted nerves. “PLEASE TELL ME.” “YOU’VE BEEN TOUCHED…MARKED.” “MARKED!” he vigorously shakes his branded hand; though motherly-given, the light’s affectionately fixed. “WHAT’S TO HAPPEN?” “AN EXCHANGE…DEATH HAS PROPOSED A TRADE.” eclipsed by his massive cloak, frailty and a hovering suffocation, the boy teeters and falls; fast asleep, the consequential sign fades.

XXIV.  paradisaical-blackness, an empyrean view of perfect-nothingness; somber-euphoria, a temporary state, positively-fills his mind’s melancholy condition. soft, hormonal-gusts and sleepy, delicate-fragrants, this breathable essence is thoroughly composed; a gentle ingested, all-embracing air. deeply internal, he feels an ever-lasting mingling steadily share and tell through the ceremonious exhale of his soul…GOOSE-BUMPS! a grandiose-alphabet, welcoming and brash, his mammalian crust was speaking…WARMTH! like incorruptible-stars, inherent and enlightening, sensibly spreads across his night covered skin. though comatosed, his lenient senses attempt to interpret these eleemosynary elevations.

receptive-fingers of seasoned-hands, he immediately ciphers a distinct and well-understood specimen of energy…PAIN! rich and solemn; anguish-leveraged hairs stick with the authority of imbecilic-tipped needles. he smiles, the pins fall limp; mastered, a complete fathomage, fear and disillusion, the protective, cerebral-layer softens…PRE-HENSION! antecedent sapience,  an ancient intelligence readily opens; penetrating, prolific-shades and yellow-flashes, an imaginative-deepening to the atmospheric colors…ZENITH! a look of climax, the spherical end, man’s spinning compass stops…DIRECTION! forward and singular, ahead lays an unparalleled realm. “G.O.D!” softly. kneeling, he continually listens…SENTIENCE! his mind comprehends the distant sound of his name being called…SENTIENCE! raising, the coming invitation, like a commemoratory-flute, inspires him with every possible reason to stand…SENTIENCE! bright lights and consciousness, his invigorated, wide-opened-pupils discover a vision impossible of completely comprehending. “VICTORIOUS!” utpoian, but more real than any-other diagrammatic- dream, her expression refills him with existence. “HEY! SLEEP WELL?”

XXV.  once comfortably adrift, yet now stranded, his inquisitive mind has but one option…REMINISCENCE! a sturdy seclusion, robust and claimed, he staidly ventures through passing flashes…TRUE BEAUTY! unambiguous reflections, firm-breasts and bare-thighs, meticulous orgies that sought-out the pinnacles of liberated-innocence; functioning lines, masculine loyalty and feminine bodily-shapes, though youthful, his tenebrous brain sparks; instantaneous and fleeting, this luminous sentiment discolors, pink hues fade back into a recognizable grey. slowing blood brings an accurate mental-picture of his calm, complacent heart…TRUE PEACE! an inner serenity; a swirl of natural order settles like soft, harmonic notes; briefly conceived, he attentively listens to the parting sounds of congenial instruments. impassioned tear-ducts, 3 intermittent drops, Lord-Ego decrees upon himself a single mollified-moment to weep.

XXVI.  “FATHER!” reds and oranges, the onward crawl of twilight floods the sky with anesthetizing shades, attracting conceptions that induce a strange, and adventurous pink-tenderness; unfastened eye-lids allow the admittance of every ecstatic-trace, an alien expression shapes his face’s amenable features. “FATHER!” an air of oddity and solace, she too finds it hard to resist. (LAUGHTER!) “DO YOU FEEL IT TOO?” “I’M NOT EXACTLY SURE WHAT I FEEL…WHAT IS IT, FATHER!” laying flat, a man upon a circular-earth, his eyes begin to tear. “IT’S YOU AUDACIOUS, SEEING YOU SEEMS TO OF OVER-WHELMED ME.” like a sun-touched flower pedal, she immediately identifies a profound-surge replenish her bodies emotional fill. soft gaiety, the king extends a hand, and gingerly wipes-away a daughter’s invaluable-tear…MORE PRECIOUS THAN GOLD! between his fingers he notices a further texture to her physical-elation. searching along he sees a thin-streak of dirt upon her face; her hands too also appear covered in excursion. “HAVE YOU BEEN DIGGING?” “YES FATHER!” though suddenly conscious of the past-hours, she’s apprehensive about her intimate, present-condition. “WHAT EXACTLY?” deep-rooted and exhaustive, intuitive breaths direct a refreshed sense of accomplishment. “GRAVES!” softly.

XXVII.  THE TASTE OF BLOOD! he wakes to the confusing flavors to the contradictory-sides of his soul. a single candle burns at his feet. the smell of sweat and peppermint titillate his efficacious nose-hairs. (THE CREAKING OF TWINE AROUND WOOD!) “WHO’S THERE!” the exceptional darkness, and branding silence pierces like a foreboding, pulchritudinous emblem; audible thumps pound from a heart containing both life and intimidation. (THE CREAKING OF TWINE AROUND WOOD! AND SOFT LAUGHTER!)  “HAVE YOU ANY IDEA WHO I AM!” “A FRIGHTENED LITTLE BOY.” enduring, the effeminate speaker is amused further. “I’M THE KING’S…” “HUSH!” black-gloved, the speaker’s able hand takes full control of the solitary-flame. one by one others start burning. light and display brighten the room’s obfuscous details. muse again booms. “A GIRL!” athletic and fat-less, the standing figure’s wrapped in dark cloth; nearly transparent, the shady-fibers hide little of her dainty frame. umbrous-hairs out-line a spectral-face. “WHO ARE YOU? WHAT DO YOU WANT?” sitting, the boyish girl coddles the young-man’s tactile purse. “IS THAT MY CARRY-ALL?…ARE YOU A THIEF! DO YOU BELIEVE YOU CAN…” “HUSH!” tossed upon his lap, he gropes tightly to his private-effects. “MY NAME IS FATA-MORGANA. I WAS INFORMED A PROPOSITION’S BEEN MADE.” coins pour out, than in, an agreeable weight cools his chafed disposition. “WHAT DO YOU MEAN?” “YOU DESIRED A MAN DEFEATED.” weary, he retrieves his fallen hood; discomfort and character are promptly disguised.  “AND WHAT MATTER IS IT OF YOURS?” a uniqueness lingers about the room as she shifts, giving off feelings that she was actually composed of the surrounding air, ardor and coherence. “A PERSONAL ONE.” “DO YOU KNOW THIS MAN?” “WELL!” softly. again her body alters it’s physical-state,  a whiff of black-pedaled roses; he cringes, his softened instincts interpret only a small amount of this meaningful scent.  “CAN HE BE DEFEATED?” “YES.” “WELL?” “YOU MUST BE VERY CAREFUL WITH THE FOLLOWING CHOICE YOU’LL NEED TO MAKE.”  “TELL ME.” “IT’S YOU WHO MUST CHOOSE.” “YES YES WHAT IS IT?” “CLOSE YOUR EYES.” cautiously they shut; through a permeable veil, orange candle-light penetrates in. “YES?” “NOW WHISPER TO YOUR-SELF THE NAME OF THE MAN YOU WISH DEFEATED…REMEMBER IT’S YOU WHO MUST CHOOSE.” “YES YES.” 7 seconds inward, the smoothness of his brow lines, his minds become hesitate; cerebral blank-spots agitate the clarity he fancies. “IT’S YOU, YOU MUST CHOOSE.” “YES…” startled for the 2nd time, he awakes again; a late- evening sky shares with fatidic-stars the prophetic-reality of  his vision.

XXVIII.  charismatic and promising, the 1st punch of yellow-fire breaks upon the fabled-edge of the folkloric-world. inching shadows and chirping birds, motions begin drifting, the appeasing-glide moves patiently along by the elaborate-richness of their notes; frequency and ambulation, a pristine blend of invisible-color fills-in both shade and obscure-space. soft-pedaled delicacies, flowers and plants, the scent of opening-minds; a compassionate, morning-breeze, pollen and seeds. dissipating nightmares, prospering day-dreams, fertilized rays burn away and nurture. beating-hearts send primary-signals, stretching-limps and primal-yawns, the planetary-chain conceives yet another day.

XXIX.  reflecting white stumble, ebullient specks of sand, the sparkling hairs are a tell-tale sign of growth. “FATHER, ARE YOU GROWING A BEARD?” confounded, the transforming king cautiously touches; an audible sound of friction. “I BELIEVE WHETHER I WHAT IT TO OR NOT.” though dirty, it’s elegance and grace that’s immediately sensed as she too becomes curious; her uncluttered touch soothes his altering formulation. “YOU’LL LOOK LIKE UNCLE SOON.” the king’s reawakened sight stares off, daze and frolic, into the estimated direction of his brother. “DID HE APPEAR WELL, MY BROTHER?” “HE SEEMED PLEASED TO HAVE COMPANY.” sketched echoes,  shiny innuendo, her polished subtlety skillfully maneuvers through his unsuspecting skull. “WOULD YOU LIKE TO SEE HIM, FATHER?” insecurities, like fatty-clots, startles his laboring heart; things from a previous existence seem almost to strangle. “FATHER, IS THERE SOMETHING WRONG?” strange-paleness, his colorless face drops.  “I FEAR THE SITE OF HIM, I’M AFRAID.” “PERHAPS IT’S HIM SEEING YOU, YOU ACTUALLY FEAR, FATHER.” delicate seconds turn vibrant, wielding-cerebral-flames, a connection of clarity through pain. “I WONDER HIS REACTION, AT THE SITE OF ME.” separated distances begin closing; wishful and disentangled, his mind deliberately thinks. “I BELIEVE FATHER, LIKE A MAN WHO DEEMS THE PASSING OF THINGS GROWTH.” shaken-awake once more, his pliable grey eyes widen. “I SUPPOSE WHEN SOME-ONE DELVES DEEP-INTO THE EARTH, IT HAS A PRODIGIOUS AFFECT.” “YES FATHER, I SUPPOSE IT DOES.”

XXX.  spellbound, he moves. the evening’s lumbering weight lifts, a sublime site, crystal-like and blue, the new day’s divine light reveals the living monument once again; her splendorous structure, though distant, ignites his blood, both bone and marrow. bare-footed, he feels an abrupt reaction between his callused heels and the earth’s ruminating floor…HEAT! a feverish wallop; the land ahead consist of lingering steam and black-jaded-rock. sweat begins to bead atop his forehead, the first abundant drop falls. insatiable and rugged, the out-spreading scene comes sharp, jagged- shapes and an awesome harshness quickly reforms the boy’s cozy reality. trembling, he suddenly calms…HOPE! a small yellow flower emerges from beneath the blood-curdling surface. one by one he discovers a half dozen more; pink and plum-wine, this indomitable contrast between such blackness and crafted color briefly alters his mind’s way of interpreting his own brain’s believed pigmentation. a hint of dizziness, and a resolute shade of bliss, he drifts, though dragged correctly across fresh-velvet. the wholesome swirl climaxes and ends, his eyes reopen, meretricious fumes and buried, flowing streams of fire, his first step’s cautious, but an emitting odor…ELYSIUM! persistently strengthens an inner exigency to move.

XXXI.  three dead rabbits…FARE-WELL! soft thoughts, valediction and departure; he kneels beside them, even strokes pay homage to their docile souls. a proficient incision opens both skin and fur…RELIEF! warm blood, understood praise and essence, his mind’s a electrifying place, virile sparks enlighten a procreative muscle of brilliance. exposed, a gentle extraction removes their effectual-organs. placed upon a hot plan a flavorful sizzle erupts from savory butter and cropped herbs. “THAT SMELLS WONDERFUL.” “YOUR BROTHER’S A FINE SELECTION OF INGREDIENTS.” “AND WINE.” a step out of his self-constructed home, he approaches holding a jug in each hand. “THOSE ARE SOME VERY PLUMP RABBITS, SENTIENCE. WE WILL EAT WELL.” “YES, WE’VE BEEN BLESSED WITH THE COMPANIONSHIP OF THESE FINE CREATURES.” three cups are poured. “CHEERS.” once elevated, the cups are drained; and freely refilled. “SO WHAT DO MAKE OF THE KING, SENTIENCE, AND HIS DAUGHTER?” “HE DOESN’T APPEAR THE SAME MAN WE FOUGHT IN THE WAR. IT SEEMS HIS MIND’S GROWN CURIOUS. THOUGHTS OF POWER LOOK TO BE DISSIPATING.”  “AND AUDACIOUS…” her tone’s profuse and venturous, “SHE IS QUITE BEAUTIFUL, DON’T YOU THINK?” a fragile silence cracks into laughter; the two men hold lavish grins. “DO YOU SEEK THE TRUTH, SISTER?” “OF COARSE.” “THEN YES, I BELIEVE SHE IS.” “AND YOU SENTIENCE, DO YOU AGREE?” her allure overwhelms him, his durable spirit’s an inferior match. “WELL?” “YES, SHE IS QUITE A SPECIMEN.” “WHY THE HESITATION, DO YOU BELIEVE I’D BE JEALOUS?” “I POSTULATE US AS CREATURES OF INSTINCT. REACTIONS ARE WHAT OUR VERY NATURES DEMAND FROM US. WOMAN OR MAN, WOLF OR SQUIRREL, A LIVING ANIMAL MUST FIGHT AGAINST OTHERS IF IT WISHING TO SURVIVE.” he touches his cup to hers. “BUT OF COARSE G.O.D. EVENTUALLY TAKES US ALL.” he drinks. she’s still, and youthful; the distinct shape of her pupil discloses a primordial interest to live. it’s intricate strength’s impossible to ignore. genuine and welcoming, his expression shows an adoring affection. “YOU’VE A FORTITUDE THAT FAR EXCEEDS MY OWN, AND IT’S VITAL YOUR TRUST IN IT REMAINS STRONG. DESPITE A LIFE WE MAY SHARE, THE PATHS WE WALK STILL POSSESS INDIVIDUAL DESIGNS.” she sips her own complying beverage; sweet, fermented juices. “IT’S EVIDENT YOUR PURSUIT OF G.O.D. BETTERS YOUR AVIDITY YOU HAVE FOR ME.” minute and huge, a passing second elapse. “I MUST REMEMBER TO EXCUSE MYSELF, AFTER THAT FIRST SERVING OF WINE.” laughter again breaks through the manifesting thickness. “NO NO BROTHER, SIT, AND RELAX; YOU TWO ENJOY WHAT’S BEEN PLACED. I BELIEVE I’LL GO FOR A WALK.” like water upon a tenacious flame,  an empathetic warmth still resonates. “MY SISTER IS A HANDFUL.” “YES…” softly. “I GUESS I BETTER START HOLDING-ON WITH TWO.”

XXXII.  a therapeutic daze, she strolls along almost afloat, independently consumed amongst a joyous partnership…RAPTURE! passion and delectation, her optical needs blur the outer-surroundings, a sensual-awakening, ever-developing forms of sensations and color; an aphrodisiacal 3rd-eye heightens her visual impression…CONCEPTION! air and imagination, a thoughtful off-spring of artistry…PUMPING BLOOD! touching muscles and sweating flesh…CONNECTION! unity and harmony…WHOLENESS! a lived existence…IDENTITY! breathless, she stops…IN! OUT! IN! details to the exterior-world start returning. “WHERE HAVE I WANDERED-OFF TO?” warm-light appears rare, a thick canopy folds-over and intertwines above her. the sudden drop in temperature is immediately felt, she instinctively embraces herself with purposeful rubbing; alerting goose-bumps mushroom like a sagacious warning. her peripheral vantage-points catch quick glimpses of black flashes. in a continuous, and slow spin, she aptly removes a six-inch knife blade from her belt. carnal and physical, the surge to her still pounding-heart peaks, a fresh-rush takes control; perfectly in-tune, she’s calm and ready, uproariously willing to die to protect what her mind’s defined as meaning.

(GROWLING!) eerie sounds move about like an invulnerable breeze; in crescendo, a disconcerting chill feels completely enveloping. shudder-some odors penetrate deeply, terrifying thoughts bite upon nerve connecting tissue; a clear sense of a behemothic-thirst petrifies her own primal hungry. “DON’T YOU DARE!” vocal insistence, her uprising nerves are steadied…IN! OUT! IN! a flood of oxygen, uplifting, clarity fills-in the insecure spaces. “JUST BREATHE AND LISTEN.” the inundated scene takes, ink in color the indistinct blurs step out from behind cover, literal impersonations of power and strength. one by one, and strategically placed, raven-furred jackals greet her with ravenous expressions…THE URGE! natures undiscriminating desire to feed; relentless and harsh, the ruthless hue of their eyes seem to pierce fear at a rate twice that of their vampiric teeth. strangely invigorated, she feels a gallivant state of admiration overwhelm her…SENTIENCE! respectful and alive, she remains intrigued by the up-coming engagement.

(THE WHIZ OF A THROWN KNIFE-BLADE!) simultaneously, the final breath of a fellow beast expels through a grievous yelp. confident and assured, she privately knows to move; motions, both beautiful and raw, enthralls the following interval of time; interlude, blood- like geranium-honey, intermittent drips fall from her own well-versed edge. flushed by commodore, her delectable complexion reaches a new caliber of loveliness, pink and luminous, aglow she represents the pinnacle of possibility, heavenly and earthly beauty.

specks of red-fluid, touched and ceremoniously placed upon the tongue…THE SOUL! an immaculate mixture of heart and iron, embodied unto her own, a tear tip-toes the eye-lid and falls; touched and solemnly placed upon his tongue. “I’VE NEVER KNOWN THE TASTE OF SUCH QUALITY.” up and down, an abundant tingling rouses her infused spine; erotic flash-backs propels the choice to move forward. stepping happily into open arms, she turns, and deliberately places her head intimately to his chest. (THUMP! THUMP!) “I’VE NEVER KNOWN THE SOUND OF SUCH PROMISE.”

XXXIII.  the heavy light of summer’s affection evolves, passing lunar faces, spirits and mind-size shapes; day’s time to soak stretches, star-baked enlightenment secretly burns receptive and exposed flesh; warming, an internal suggestion. sweat protects and cools, still yet, swelling temperatures; feverish minds hide and fight, a latent madness waits. vivid orbs, like miniature throbbing-suns, ornament with crimson-flashes; life witnesses new angles of perception; watery-eyes squint. distant winds, day by day, are escorted closer; duplicate spins are helpless, an astronomical gyration; intrinsic magnets push and pull, earthly changes birth influential subtleties.

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