7:40 AM (I awake into the crispness of morning)—
Fight to surface
out of deep dreams,
as hypnogogic illuminations
Apollo’s familiar steed—
8:20 AM (While browsing the news, tiredness washes over me)—
Right on cue,
sleep she bids me
9:20 AM (I wake up, for real, this time)—
10:50 AM (I am in my apartment, on the couch, curled up in a blanket, and bleary-eyed from watching anime. The shades are slanted partially
Soft daylight trickles in—
of a lovely room
appointed with granite and steel
their near-absolute frigidity offset
by the eternal glowing warmth
of Cherry and Oak.
Yet they are, All of them
everything that is of this world—
stacked neatly atop a table:
Hostage to the Devil
How to Win Friends and Influence People
The Ten-Day MBA
12:13 PM (I listen to, “Another Nail for Your Coffin.” By Lamb of God. Sacrament. EPIC, 2006.)—
“I’m going to ride that horse
we’ve beaten to death
and deliver its stinking carcass
to your doorstep,
a gift from all the—
that are the progeny
of your ballistic union.”
1:00 PM (I am in my apartment, seated at the kitchen table. I am gazing out of the wide window at the sunny view of the stream of cars
driving past, remembering an article that I read)—
Metal colors flash by as I gaze languidly at the view outside of my window.
Taupe, black, beige, grey, white--crimson.
Over and over.
An endless race with neither start nor finish line.
Propelled by intense magnitude.
Far from remaining singular entities, they blur,
leaving trails and tracers as afterimages.
They are still there, even if I close my eyes—
Indelibly smeared, like a stain, across my field of vision.
revving like violent heated beasts.
Devouring tar and rubble,
ever in a state of combustion.
They expel greasy rainbows of semi-transparent chemicals
that scintillate in midair
before becoming enmeshed with it.
We inhale it as a matter of course—
the heavy iron particles
cripple and atrophy our neurocircuitry.
Thus, we dissolve
into unending motion,
fading into smog
as memories tie their own nooses and hang themselves.
At the death rattle,
Alive with fire,
acutely registering pain
as the final recollection breathes its last.
2:30 PM (Leaves)—
waltzing in the breeze and light
3:00 PM (I am at the table, the sun is high in the sky and the sky is blue. I am surrounded by paper and working on homework. I look out
the window, again, and notice the chair and bench that I have outside on my balcony)—
Black wrought-iron is conjoined with wood,
growing hot together in the Sun
that beats down,
past the overhang.
Shielded from the light,
a copper bench and chair.
The beams filter through
Mission metal backs.
Ending up on wooden floor,
these squares of gold—
warm to the touch.
Each like an angled highway
of dust motes lazily refracting—
—immaterial strands of sunshine.
6:55 PM (Sunset)—
ruby hanging in midair
7:11 PM (Shadow)—
ushering in the Wild Hunt
feigns umbrage at dawn
9:11 PM (Stillness)—
Abraded by sound
cloaking our reality
11:11 PM (Synchronicity)—
A spirit presence
truly isn't auspicious
new age deception.
11:59 PM (Denouement)—
On the doomsday clock
mere seconds to midnight I
bring the hammer down.
edit on 19-9-2016 by rukia because: (no reason given)