half-eaten blueberry

the peculiarity of petals has been the mannequin of muse. in this pearly winter night. a certain trenchancy. on a moon whisper. i turned on the radio. static-filled. for an hour and three minutes. motioned to the magpie made of cardboard, resting by the nightstand. and peeked at the moon. and smiled. and crawled. and howled. and bathed in the light of the milk eponym peculiarities. you look drugged, melanie. i say to the lunatic. and the stars. and the cabaret crystals. the jingling prisms. and the glass flakes on silica. and the diamond beds on crates and rocks. and snarls and gawks of your uncharacteristic perfidy. leaning over, i said. i want to send a half-eaten blueberry. parceled in lead. to which, you nod. reverberate and resonate in ripples of the cloud waves. in chronicles of your luminescence. and trace and track the vagaries of your twenty nine trimesters of aborted pregnancies. back and forth, in the uniformity of a cyclic periodicity. i became an animal of the irrational. i cannot explain. i cannot piece together the chronology of my math. acumen and satiety, in check. only to say i have this lurch, a longing for what i cannot know. to sing dialogues of the dead metaphysicist and the teeming unconscious. in jars, pouring mayonnaise and shellac. in the diffusion paradigm of inconstancy. and in the relativity of the time continuum, i want to build a ladder. that remains beyond perish. toying with an indelibility of the non-conventional. no statuette or portraiture of a posed smile or magnificence is necessary. it is in the doing, this preservation of the character of self. to do something, often times you exclaim. i want to do something, what should i do? how you leave the trace, through your effort and whims, is for you to decide. to be the cultist glamor doll, or the theorist philosopher. the barbarian or the plague, is your fancy. what matters in terms, the humility and pomp. the machinations of your skin sonnets. the narrative of your genitals. a legacy of blood blossoms. a petal work of frames. and paint. and juvenile plasticine. mold and remold. give shape and breaths. and historicize the fetishization of the love tentacles. of the moon epilogues. of the lunatic rogue and the insanity of the schizophrenic. building castles and navigating, through a time of a century. to live through an annihilation of the ice widows.

to live, melanie. where do did you start?