Pariah

Hideaways you worship like the devotion
You assign to your own existence:
Something promising about the separation
From the predictability of humanity,

& the dangers of becoming attached to something secular:
Love,,, perhaps
You will be disappointed
<& again>
It happens: imperfection is what looms
In the vestibules of this matrix:
It isn’t heaven: here:
Behind door #? Is a plastic game: that despises
Its own description: in the category: toys
So, the question, stays inexhaustible delay:
Do you want to play:

Today… ? Today? Today? Today? Today? Today? Today? Today? Today?

Ecstasy

Tonite the house of love renders all its force:
plagued my sense of vigilance
& clued me in to the source of mystery:
immaculate touch:
of elemental empathy:
created by a master much
like this: fragile is what fears its loss:
sacred knowing: in this showing:
who can argue
with this opportunity to be symmetrical
to heaven?
I would live here if it weren’t a curse
Upon me,
It’s been known to appear
& disappear on wings quicker than I’ve
Yet to parallel…