Also

Also

I write escapes to safe havens

I remember the shelter of your love 

Flit back and forth, past safe house 

Now dangerous static gallery of you.

Each glimpse has me storytelling

To myself. Working on my silenced 

Dreams, kind of mental aberration 

Reliving a me that knows of

No endings with you. Ever. 

I have immense retentive energy

Useless to supress babble of white

Noise chattering inside, tete a tete

Oh so many blind dates with you.

I. Clawing ocean floors, crabby, disgruntled

I. Antiquarian elephant, memory bears longevity 

I. Antipodean turtle, contrary upside down world.

I cannot make this die. I have to write. Write is

The rite. It won’t make it right.

Exorcism of tenderness. Snatching her baby from 

A woman’s arms.

Amputation of loneliness. Cutting her legs, 

Throwing away her crutches. A war experiment 

On lovectomy. Lobotomy would be kinder.

Never mind love, I swim seas of emptiness 

On mermaid fins, You cannot categorize 

The world I am in. Land nor sea holds me.

You can only leave, cannot ground me 

In your reality, as left. Deserted. Abandoned.

I flower on desert floor, entwining memories

Root and songs of abandonment nourish me.

This world was also created, out of chaos in

The God Mind. Word translated thought into 

Action, and into Be-ing, we became.

Why can I not realize this? Make mind into matter?

Make love matter more than you? Deny reality

That I return to you? You constructed brick by 

Brick, your world where I don’t exist, but in

Mine, You are signs, and wonders, revelations

On all the neon billboards at every synaptic

Street corner. My axons and ganglia uncurl 

And curl at command, shooting electric bursts

Of you. Losing my mind...or freeing it ?

There never was a last word ending creation.

There never was distinction between illusion

and delusion. 

Dreams are reality inside my sleep.

My sleep is a little death to an observer.

You're both my beautiful illusion, that 

Is as real as anything and my flawed 

Delusion.

Existing in my skin, each knot, tension, 

In my brain, each threaded coiled perception, 

Emotions entangled. That’s also reality.

Not just this external world, happening outside.

I am also an unique looking glass, true and false, 

Based on which side are you looking on, I'm not 

In denial, if I claim the You in me is mine.

For the many inner windows of my frontal cortex 

Was fabricated to contain you. The maze of my 

Entrapment is holistic, perfectly finished, however

Messy. A trick house  of faulty reception’s deception

That dismissed your entire world without me in it.

As chaotic background noise. Microwave radiation,

From Primordial universe soup. Television static. 

Is the joke on you, or the last laugh on me?

Thank you, for not keeping but winning me.

All rights reserved

©Amrita Valan 2014

This crabby Libran will write lawsuits and arguments and call them poems...Please forgive me.