In all your phases of togetherness, I hold you; indifferent as you are
To meld me
Into the shape that held me yours.
Decipher me indigenous to what came before.0
Keeping conscience codified and corruptible.
Patterns perceive me perfectionless,
with no address to consciously compressed
thoughts I compose to cure me
the hard lead of whence I feed your forethought
with thinks instead
rather I be led by links
and templates that by your structure
(computably compressed by a now collapsable eternity and valueless still my endlessness so conditioned to cure me)
Posterity shall have its record of me immutable and miscalculate modernity posthumously.
Let poetry adorn me instead with a puffy head, coquettishly.
Congratulations, Dr. Middleton.
Had I not sle\pt through centuries, elliptical principalities of post-proximity
would make me an anomaly
As things were nominal to tick the minutes toward me, you were nothing but pulling me toward pieces of patience, having no will to pin against me, but wile.
And I am waiting the worst of time to seize your sight upon me,
And all my weapons of precocious ferocious sensuality suppress me to stay, awake as I were to address you hopeful to see me casually
As I conduct myself baneful in your captivity.. Here
To have facets of your face pierce into me the querulous quantum of reality.
Have your way with me
With no means to fulfill my wantoness.
Stay stationed to cure me the compensation of your caress, as the day suspends me…. Suspect to kiss you.
open angles of objectivity
intercept their axis
proposed to cross the craft of universiality,
mere of words to resurrect potentiality
So I aimed myself angle-less,
and curved myself parenthetically amongst things
that needed clinging to
and made myself
the narrative of a mind
omniscient but dimensionless
and I think aimlessness
plotting me positionless
asking numbers to stake my space.
There are days that repeat themselves
and instances of eternity are memorized;
perhaps emoticons are actualized into real feeling
and automated misconceiving reelings
of data are detonated and fated,
cross configurated algorithms of information amalgamated;
so that I culminate just so retro-regulated by rules that don’t apply to me,
but adhere to me nevertheless frustrated
at prospects of mathematics where value is related
and redundancy is the currency of conundrum.
Knowledge can be so dumb, but still pro-rated by It’s sum.