stuff

Fantastically Fictional Phantasms

Blushing his mind was suddenly buzzing

With a rushing kind of thrumming thundering

His hands fumbling with wistful whispering

As he stilled listening

Quivering in attention to her symphony

Moving so fluidly it seemed

She was perfect symmetry

If symmetry could sing infinitely

While still breathing

 

Red lips and a tongue ring

Swayed hips like an epiphany

He used ink viciously

As he tried to capture her being

In pages of calligraphy

Ultimately ending in simplicity

And writing only two words worth keeping

Lovely,

And Epitome

But even that seemed to be a study in futility

Close, but still just a facsimile

 

Now even attempting such a thing

Was like extemporizing a soliloquy

When she’s not in the scene

It was a crushing ruptured something

Lusting up toward her but just...brushing

See because,

 

Crystallized starlight and sunbeams

Are the color of her eyes for one thing

Her makeup was made of the constant fluttering

Of a thousand different shades of butterfly's wings

Her body wrapped with swirling images of things

Half shown only teasingly

Blues and pinks perfectly painted in permanent ink

She wore a meticulous modesty like an alluring anthology

Audibly dancing the lines of an infatuation with her body

Calmly, and without a hint of apology

 

Never did they speak

But he thought of her with a quietly

Quickening need

Like a disease

Degenerative and growing constantly

Her motion kept within a distant proximity

Close, but still just out of reach

Orbiting fitfully like a belief caught by gravity

Even the fleeting demons seemed to freeze

The needle points of their teeth not quite so pressing

Folded and creased with every word that she’d speak

 

See,

He wanted God but was stuck in the ministry

She was the girl of his dreams

Literally

An Ideal over which he found himself continuously

Waxing rhapsodically

Lasting and wrapped softly

In prose and in poetry

She was the standard for every real meeting

The source of a lonely rising anxiety

Only interspersed by other versions sporadically

By terse blurred physical excursions endured silently

Violent and briefly blinding

Lost like a leaf in lightning

 

She was a masterpiece paraded in pageantry

Absently grasping at the fantasy of his own imagining

She was a fiction with...

Cherry flavored lips and a tongue ring

Swayed hips like an epiphany

And eyes the color of crystallized starlight

And sunbeams

Too caught up in the dream

To realize he was sleeping

He fell in love with a faery

 

He just couldn’t see her wings

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Tell me what you think...

Staying awake.

 

 

Home alone.
I'm a boring person.
I used to think a lot more before.

That was interesting.
Snap.
Dance attempt.
Oh!
French toast for dinner.
Ouch!

Analizing poses in pornography.
Um...

Philosophizing over the translation of an animation.

Tisk.

"It must be very hard to write an opera"
Hmm.
Oh, I hate sunrises.
*sounds of snoring*

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