The Denial Of The Orthdox

Same name. Same time. Same hope. Same distress. Same defeat.

Corrosive as a nightingale of clay I suffered bouts in which I had solemnly prepared a reverie. In this I am genteel and more manageable - that is best of all.

In the limelight of ascension I pictured a forest with only water, where trees are drowned. And, that wish wasn't granted. Instead I see an Amazon in my garden. Snarling, glaring as a cat being fucked up wrong,

Am I the sinning- soothsayer-come-lady-be-man-sacrificial-lamb-heated-cat-divulged-pregnancy?

So, there is a crime as punishment. A punishment as crime. And there are hands soak in the detergents of ivory-blood, lace-pears and cotton-cacti

Possibly I'm dreaming. In this heated afternoon where mind pounces and flounces as a skirt of flirtatious chhaos - cannot see it too clearly as-so I dare

And then the voluminous asking of "How can you...?"
The reply is not a necessary antibody - it speaks only the spoken needs it to be, then there are other crimes than silence.

The cataract of this slice of thought brandishes all those who have remained pure. In this antagonistic ruin of a home I suffer silence and a lewd dream of finer education.

" Whatever works -works..." said the ignoramus.

" Whatever sings - sings..." said the mal-touched crow
" Whatever be - be." said the sad excuse for inventor with no incentive to invent.

And here I am, maiden-man with no opposite except myself. The mirror is my opposite. It opposes me. It is showing a well dressed thing with ornaments.

So there i sat - " How can you stay away?"
I did not answer.

Moments later lips pressed and pressures on finer things had come about. I did not see forest without trees. At the examination hall I wrote " As useless as a marriage with sex..."

The examiner was furious at me

Singing as a nightingale display I wrote volumes in my mind each day. Each suffocating moment knowing my opposer showed me well dressed.

And then there is a sudden, " Don't you want this anymore?" an exhibiontist question not my breast to display. Then the scuffles of sweet tempered rape and a passionate pressure.

Never knowing the forest without trees.

And such an ideology as "I know better." when better is synonymous than worse.

And so there came water in the bathtub and the opposed me in the front carrying a torch for my own martyrdom singing "Yes, Yes. Oh. Yes, everything is fine..."

And the IM message penetrating the screen as penetration overdue overflows to white as digitalized screen, " I think you have become..."

And the artwork portraying the child with an automatic. A grown-up in the middle of nursery rhymes singing with the empty space where children should be.

And the aftermath of heated blush as if ozone was discovered and ether has whispered some secret disembowling the secret of being secret.

House - does it have meaning?
Rabbits - did I have them? Those leacherous multiplying masses?
Condoms - are they so passive? Do they have a voice?
Leeches - can they suck blood? Or do you suck there's?

In the passive do I say "I am leaving." or is it active "I can't say."
A moment of flushes, flashes - bright lights and how-could-you's to I-do-too's and simply- the-issue-baby

You are not acting according to the way I know you speech

like there was a way to know

Onto the ceremony of vows and oaths I had taken over and over in dollhouse play
I still couldn't have that wish

Then I asked the genie and the words are - " But how can I refuse it? It's law I can't -"

I take a gun and think of go-go grey and chocolate-sauce red anf liqurice-black of freezing hard and then the dews come on again. Wearing stuff that isn't me.

Lipstick scrawled on bathroom wall. Lipstick of an eternal-internal vein. Ghost of a wish.
Then I scream
GIVE
GIVE
GIVE

After a while I think I took a pill or two. Coffee sex in the half-glow of high-happy and high-sad and thinking of oral oaths and marriage orally stimulated. Kinda breaks up powder-promise.

Then there is a sign on the doorway saying "evicted"

Feeling the pockets I come up and say fuck you in a fashion of freedom

I did no rites for a light. The cigarette is my instrument. I play it well. Of that horse I got when I was nine as wooden as trojan's gears - what Odysseus thinks me over stating that be fine as Troy.

Troy. Coy. Ploy. Shadow-kissing in an empty room.

I broke the glass I got in and covers-calm sank into cotton-warm-anxiety.

" Well I guess that one isn't Typical."
" No sweat killed the lover."
" No - the lover kill was suicide."
" Why can't these bohemian mother-fucks stay by themselves."
" Married?"
" No was."
" Is -"
" No, not dead."

Run away to a little forest with trees. The genie says I'll give you a cube. So I stay there. It is sanotorium white and leaks ink at times. The ink might drown me. But it doesn't. It vanishes somehow.

Then I collect ink in little jars and stuff them in my eyes. Suddenly the cube becomes a miirror. Is my heart in these glassed prison-freedom - fucked up astral projection?

The genie says "Are you finished?"
I say "Not yet."

So I wander aimlessly into the forest and find cemented-asphalt-civilization -it tip-toed with a feel of fundamentals crudely drawn.

Life is pressing me. I press it too. Like a sheath and sword.

The asking " Are you lost"
The "yes" to "sex" to third-binding rhythm
Then those words "I love you."
Then those words "I love you."

I say "Can you stay? You couldn't change..."

Then the running, scratching in the starry-interruption and soon water and quench and quench and quench and quench but the dripping fades after a liquid-digestion of acceptance.

I turn around and genie whispers "Do you understand now?"

I answer, " Yes."

The genie states "They both love you."

" I not them."
" Then return to the cube to collect the ink."
" They were not ink."
" No Black tears."
" Then I'll mix it with this ocean."

And soon the water had greys, blacks and whites...

I ran on the train to neverland-otherland and found them both as internal-external cogitations and told the genie " Give me slices."
The Genie "You were forced to marry one and the other you forced."

Then I drew circles with the tears of new and the cube came alive and become a doll and I put strings in this doll and said "Elope into the forest and drink the lake I made."

The Doll did this.

Soon the circles glowed and glowed and as halo present caught the two and spoke whispers.

I told the genie "Can you give me my wish now?"

The genie said "Yes."

Out of a box he took me in and I raced into it with all happiness

*

Eons wages sin
Eons write ecstacy
In Sheaths forlorn I had laid
In Wine and Milk integration
In this silk wound-heal of temptation-virue
I had died-birthed in a circle

So when the forest of water was completed and trees and earth and everything in a rainbow I saw the doll become cube-doll and be inside my breast.

The bridge is now altered to a palace. The IM flashes and a message says "What?"
And I say "Yes."
The person leaves...

So here I am now...walking...past a certain identity....the glass looks tidier - no opposition. I am in my room. New yet still a ruin - no longer despised.

And in a wall with lipstick I write (lipstick with ink on top) " Forgot wings of the orthodox - forget extreme - I have wings of letters and microscope-dreams and telescope-sex and verbatim-era and poised-coitus. I am me."

Knock
Knock
Knock

The genie states " Your dream of water."

I look at it - it is a doll of water. Made of fine conventions and beyond and the genie states that the alien inside me knows so I take.

Here the water is me. I was born by the illegitimate forces of fire and earth. Legitimate forces of water and ice. Embolden interiors as yarn and needle and softer stuff as metal and iron-stitch.

Married twice.

Divorced thrice.

Poor of dice
Poor of constant vice

Dressed as woman
Dressed as man

In city streets and country lamps

I know I am fixed as a nomad

I know I am wandering as a introvert

I asked the genie "Give me a face without face."

He made a dirt and air of me.

Man has no face
Woman has no make-up

I collected those remaining ink and made a apparatus that can read a few letters of "psyche" and it said
" Trust with little mass."

I picked up the apple and bit - no feminine when needed not masculine when wanted and became forged as shooting stars on a planet's surface.

Soon I decided to stick myself in a tear and see but then I lost interest.

Soon I became an atom of all stem-cell things. Powerful, womb-erect but also helpless

My skeleton extended making dolls]

Then I became a genie too
Then the genie asked "What now?"

I said "To a beginning..."

To he let it go and go
And soon I picked up a star-flower and said bloom-bloom-bloom

And soon it happened
Now I am in a state most happy - loved

I see the IM and it says "Are you there."
" Yes."

And so with knights in nights carassed and sons in suns exploding I have found me. The water gone and the genie staying quiet as if in my food waiting to be eaten.

Love is there

But now I am a magician

I have showed shows with dolls and inhabitated clustered cotton

Then I became a final person. In the path of a star that was shooting out as if a flower opening first I said "I want to be loved."

And Oh the cube broke away

An artist's way of saying

I have found me

Then Panndora opened and box-cut I was maybe by box-cutter and flew away as hatched bird. In my room, my desk I wrote a thing I think I'd IM

" The Denial Of The Orthodox is as the screams of a star lovemaking with the Universe."