Paranormal State

Tallies of daffodil dreams coded by breed, wrought in caverns that make worship an every thought…action…when new voices drive home empty bottle ideals and remind your sleeping soul that there are more enemies than friends and that creativity cannot be taught and that there are no tangible reasons for the smile of strangers of the bowing nature of courtesans…these court teases that look like lawyers which Moreau pre-destined into viability when he saw that cougar on his way with no skin, covered in cinnabar and daring a soul to help…to save…to immortality encoded in memory, like Masada, the sacrifice made before that shame of the realization of the denial of a god’s grace to evoke that moment drunk on jalap where that image of Daphnis & Chloe, comes to mind…that begging question of the couples, coupling, the men in age, staged, then comes creeping in the Puni, the imps that conjure the Punic Wars, where was Dido? That imperial minded witch which the Bard forgo in his histories, that feminine that we have all forgotten, in our quests….for Atlantis.