Fractal Sense

rapid sample loops distorted
beyond a recognizable degree.
those jabs piercing straight into the edge of
music. differentiated balloons hide
a white smile and those unseen eyes
but they’re always seeing through the walls.
it tastes like sin. (spikes, spikes, spikes)
the hyperactive podium of a white blood cell
and that multi-colored warping bottomless pit.
ears with a frame rate, decibel counting eyes.
off the charts, melon gave it a ten.
“it must be good.” open break.
pop. last in first out. modulated springboards
microsecond breathing space, sweat-dropping
hothead. I make myself different.
music tastes like sin, or so they say. get out.
185 seconds of standing on spikes.
my talent, my limit, my exhaling shrieks,
my experiential experimental
death-gripped beat.


(inspired by spikes – death grips)


The Understanding of a Friend

The both of us together is a wonder.

Our eyes pierce one another with analytical stares;
It wasn’t a casual glance of generalising scowls
This single moment means forever, we blink and then
the truth sets in, and you approach me silently
with open arms.

I feel the warmth of your dull coloured sweater
against the chill in this cold, dark weather
I feel the great joy of your embrace
against this congestion of bad days

A voice utters a series of words I cannot comprehend.
In the moment, I was utterly lost and struck with pallor.
I found myself saying, “What does it mean?”
“Appreciation.” Yes, that was the answer.

I wish that moment could have lasted forever.


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