As Prismatic Memories Dissolve, Space-Time Accelerates

I.

The parallel lines of her specter-like eyes

rise from the misty spires of the past

like two spikes in a spectrograph.

 

As the mind sails through three dimensional space

time’s boomerang batters its latest victim

with faint tendrils of yearning.

 

II.

Never-say-goodbye memories

are left stranded on salty islands of velvet,

ever awaiting the devouring tongue,

ever awaiting the hungry singularities of separation

that feast like fungi upon splintered memories.

 

If matter obediently circles

like water down a drain,

then love lost grips like the gnarled arms

of five-thousand-year old trees,

strangling.

 

III.

Whistling to overcome the hum of decay

we recklessly ascend burnt treetops

while trying to ensnare and topple

the night moon’s sunlit face.

 

Yet our heart-shaped clouds

of enslaved matter always

slide helplessly into the event horizon.

 

And even the atoms in a kiss never really touch,

but are simply squashed against the writhing boundaries

of two parallel magnetic fields.

 

IV.

Deep within the swirling eyes of Jupiter

broken rainbows of epiphany disintegrate

into scintillating droplets of helium- and neon-laced rain.

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