Capricious

12 - Ferrero Rocher

"The unreal is more powerful than the real. Because nothing is as perfect as you can imagine it. Because its only intangible ideas, concepts, beliefs, fantasies that last. But things as fragile as a thought, a dream, a legend, they can go on and on."
- Chuck Palahniuk

I guess it's for you to tell, what worlds each verse is from. States of union, states of mind, refining through till moments come. Particulars of flavour, a diamond or a spade. Fellow Turquoisian, mind me a bee, for you seem to have turned into a hive of sweet stings. The ragged doll clutched to her side, you really would think she had to have mind. Coruscating through the vines, sailing to a mine of mind. What might there be to find? Spinning daisies gliding down. Who all are sake to be this numb?

My inside shoves over, making room for a constant. A spring for all. A blue alive with black, storms intensifying with your drop. Ancient Greek statues, eyes locked. Blowbacks in the woods, wild and warm. A field of twigs between pillars. Pinned against the bark, a hand for each hand. Lips pincering yours. A growth between us. Eyes infinite throughout. It was right there and then, that was the peak, of times among the brook and the blackberry bush. Glowing heat below me, head filling with the same. Playing like children, thoughts of freeing, fleeting minds. Breathing faster, into you, into me. Minutes devoured by your tongue, a tickle of nerves, a trickle of birds. Staring with eyes closed. The hunt barely begun. Sounding skateboards in the distance. To give the mind completely, only this, only now, all else is dead. Rubbing through you, a care to get dirty at all.

Arms held in, enforcing plays to win the silliest of games, that young of mind could think to mind. Jumping on the bed, pillows and cushions, pyjamas held short. Drawings of animals, an encyclopaedia collected before you were you. Kids of the summertime, of new accomplices day after day, ruling through them all, part of the secret pact. The playgrounds and street corners. I would always be so wild. Scraping elbows, grazing knees. The pain to cry, healing scabs fading invincible. Stronger, blonder, niftier.

Soft truffle of nutty crunch, your glowing swirl within, in me. That time to want and to have, for food at least. Supermarkets old, now gone.

Bicycle rides and swimming pools, running through the woods, the train tracks we reach. Blocks of bricks and criss-crossed fence. Hollow tubes and cartridge both. I dare to go, where others have not been before, the explorer of the unknown world, both in land and mind. Abseiling down caves and swinging through jungles. Sliding down pink jelly waterfalls in a setting of clouds, angels bouncy and small. Seraphs of Christmas plays and the occasions of a church. Paper books, folded with pen, only to vanish thereafter. We could think what we want, because we knew nothing at all. Little chimpanzees.

Playing in the twilight, till dark twas time to leave. Shorter some then longer follow. Games of a child, the world through which my action flowed, in fights and levels and resurrection. Hundreds, time decays, time to lose, time to forget. Only the most solid do survive. Even in toys it was survival of the fittest, or that sold themselves to liking. Between cars, fronts gardens and rarely a living room. Each now taken so very different roads, how so, we were once so much together, living one life? Don't die on me now!

Cold and perfectly creamy, exquisite tastes, reminders of a safari evening, driving down island roads. Even the happiest of places years ago, letting itself go. Rolling down hills, the climb so hard, tracks in the dense. Popular explosion, record stores, little tape cassettes of country blues.

I stayed to walk her home, to never make her fear. When it was all chivalry, from museum to mausoleum. Hair plaited, little blue and white dress. Married for the day. Led by her hand, I was the chosen one, that's all it ever was to be. How do we all diverge? It was all so good, but so very very bad.

Crunch through wet sand, stonier than most. White block rooms, green bedding unless. Climbing gates and trees, to walk over with ease. Graffiti by the tracks. I was never meant to go this far. But hey, she'll never know. Crawling through holes, hide and seek beyond limits, always too innovative. Shoebox houses of card and sellotape. Passive smoking nonetheless, a habit nonetheless, an addiction nonetheless. Nurture perhaps, or associative times of purity. How dare you love me? I cannot be yours, you should always have known. There was always a ranking in our minds, for brilliance in anything is to be respected, adored.

Back garden parties. Food and fizzy drinks, running around to be toys or with toys, sheds in the background, soon to bear smoke and sweat. Still we played unknowingly of each, and each never stayed, they barely known again. Who were they all, how ever to know? How to know who could not have been? An art gallery of vision, a museum of wonder. Accumulating knowledge through any all ways, that's what gave me the kick, those times of forbidden art. Hey sexy, the daring audacity that turned you on so. An age in shopping malls and streets besides. But I digress, shall we continue with the proceedings?

Hot air balloon cities caught in the sky, holding merchants and scholars both. A lake for weekends escaped. A house made all of wood, of wall and floor and stair. White bedding and tilted skylights. This interval I wish to live forever. Ever numerous, but never lasting. Why ever so? Why never one from place to place, not that mattered. Blood brothers separated, again and again. That was how I lived, obsessed with one person at a time. One true friend, one truly known, then torn away, again and again. Reasons beyond our control. To think, what could have been. Eyes tingling in an array of diamonds. Associations overloaded. You'll never catch me, never reach my mind. Just that one shade lower to one shade higher. Dare I dive further? Are you supposed to be here? It was all ever red or white, now there's an ever darkening shade of blue.

A vapour awakes me. Slumber under an arch, mattress, no bed. Fish tank, night light below. A fire place too, armchair and bean bag. Wooden staircase. You doze. Brushing your nipple, under sweaters from snow. A spice of cinnamon. Wrestling lightly, high and mighty. The rush of blaming flame from within, from without.

Because some things are better pure, and others mixed. Smoke through the lamplight, staying up for TV shows. Back to the flame. As simple as soup. Ironic and erotic. Nights to the sun. Living till sleep summons, no trying, no dying. Bed and breakfast rooms and sunlit patisseries. Evenings in Montmartre, a painting of us both. Croissant mornings and passion filled nights. Time lived for no reason at all, an adventure with no need of home.

Follow me all the way, I dare you, I dare you to live as I live. For I see deeper, for I see how. It multiplies, when two so free, then three maybe, then fourth not oft, fifth rarely sawn. As anything great and pure, it will always have a name. Dragging them into my worlds of knowledge, of sin, through crowds and lies.

As long as it's justifiable. That is our only law.