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Enigmatic Loss

Just leave me alone,now. Just leave me right here to be not here now. No existence for what was. No existence for who I am. Nowhere to be, else to be some1 like me. Who is me. Who I fail to be,no never one who is lone,lest one that is lonely to my lonely and no one listens Im not the first,wont be the last i am making it known how deep my roots cut And how much blood is being

A Season To Remember

Summer slips from our fingers, ‎a child in motion, ‎unaware of endings, ‎like lovers lingering at the door, ‎dreaming the night might last ‎one moment more. ‎ ‎We chased fireflies ‎into dusk-lit theaters, ‎hands buttery with popcorn, ‎hearts unwritten. ‎ ‎August is cruel, ‎stone fruit, warm and bruised, ‎a sky that refuses to soften. ‎ ‎But only summer sings. ‎No anthem of autumn, ‎no ballad of spring. ‎ ‎It hums in our bones, ‎each beat stitched to a name ‎we no longer say, ‎ ‎a soundtrack ‎to our forgetting ‎and our return. ‎

The Night is Beautiful

Each chapter of the night tells a story, Each moment it arrives offers insight, Each time it prevails brings out the light within us, Its duration unravels mysteries. The night closes the door to daylight, Which transforms us into fighters and gladiators. We emerge from obscurity, Harnessing the fading light. The night makes us creative tools; Its challenges encourage us to seek the True Light.

The Abyss

My grieving heart is powerless to quell
the rigors of life in this world that I dwell
haunted by hate for having loved too well,
I don’t know what this journey will foretell.

And now I suffer a fate worse than hell
To love passionately and dare not to tell,
While my damned demons howl and yell
these benumbing fears my voice curtail.

Stalked by spirits of the darkest night may impel
before long my poor soul will be hauled to hell    
that no harrowing abyss on earth can parallel
and no wizard can break this most awful spell.

Affectations trailed with pet appellations, particularly endearments suffuses me with giddiness

Even though veritable hypothetical unknown females
courtesy Facebook Messenger
frequently pepper their text messages to me
with sweet nothings,
which figurative playful banter tickle my fancy,
and immediately triggers romantic fantasies
courtesy every "Jane, Liz, and Mary,"
I (a former Norwegian bachelor farmer
now married Caucasian, latitudinarian,
nonestablishmentarian, sexagenarian, 
and Unitarian Democrat)
imagine dragon Siamese triplets
across the dance floor which
three in one package
considered a peculiar form of polygamy

Doorway To A Beach Part 2 (Serious edits, word enhancements, and corrections)

Trapped in a glistening steel glass tempered elevator lowering in a quirky gothic creaky fashion this portrait artist and painter of the color field vibration and adrenaline aesthetic. Angel of the sand blown wood grain canvas, Orson.
He always had this notion of waves washing over him as he painted exclusively with Odette.
In the elevator itself Orson felt he brought his own ecosystem with him.
Their overt displays of affection as well evoked moonlight and sunny shores in each others eyes were included in the elevator in reality in tandem with fantasy.

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