"A primitive allegory"

                                  
                                                   (parasol evening)
                                  
                                        Sauntering up neighborhood walkways in deadened November. Hollow and capricious; I walk, an infertile man upon a dry season; soliciting stale expired girl-scout perishables;   Bloodline ancestress; immersed in gold and scarlet shirtsleeves, embalmed in promiscuous glitter. A cat; a feline mistress, darkened and lascivious, embroidered nightly corridors, peering down windswept dooryards whilst autumn shadows descend to delicate dusk.
                                      
                                          (Primitive allegory taken as the ascetic barometer)
 
                                     Infernal heat shrouds an apartment livelihood. Taking things down a notch to midsummer complacency, thyme and barley misplaced among kitchen cupboard upholstery, a cedar coffee-table aligned in antique damasks, velvet drapery adorned shutters mutter rhetorically against tenement window pane, and pillared shelves nest idly in silhouetted corners.
                                     This residence is forlorn on statutory Monday; illumined in radiant sunbeams stretched out across maroon carpeting amid domestic forenoon. Fatigued and cumbrous, my hand clasping your pale fleshy palm; gilded you past the upstairs terrace, past a stone-etched vestibule of erect marble edification, out onto the brass rail of a third-story balcony; ( this is where we stood candidly; and you started in again, about "the rapture."

                                (White male republican demagogue mistaken for the twenty-first century Antichrist, alluding to the inevitability of these events as "signs that must occur"; proving the Book of Revelation accurate)
                         
                               In lukewarm decades prior; I dry-heaved upon your transient globe, wore a special vest to your family dinner party, then threw up rum and coke on the garden daffodils; smoked seedless pot in a neighborhood forest chamber. Went back in time to visit your mother while she was young, then banged her. In residential suburbia I went to bed while the morbid sun was at its frivolous peak; all the neighbors' kids were half-naked playing on a slip and slide. I awoke profusely sweating in anguishing convulsions and delirium tremors; I experienced a nightmare in which I awoke, in residential suburbia at 3:00p.m. to those damn shrieking neighborhood kids (half-naked) frolicking on a slip and slide.

Nwo Premonition

                               A conflagration of ultraviolet stars illumined-up the crest of a bleak November skyline, months of pallid fingers interwoven by minimalistic interpretation; in recollecting poison spirits being recklessly whirled down the primeval hatch. I delicately recall a young woman's face, pale and apprehensive in the beginning. Time unraveling inevitable mysteries of young adulthood to me without questioning. Alcoholic manifestations of decades prior; on drunken sprees beneath the tranquil city-lights. Crossing motorized intersections in search of something I'd never find: a woman's touch; a nose full of designer dust; or maybe a syringe full of hep-c blood; bottom line is that none of them ever sufficed.
                           Her apartment resided on the main st. of town; domestic and carpeted; conveniently next to my place of employment. She quickly became everything to me; overnight; my one and only;  fervently endeavoring to impress her more and more in my erratic barroom antics. Hole-in-the-wall taverns up and down the main-drag; hungover knowledge never paid off; stale midnight maelstroms of thoughtless indulgence before the coming rain found me down upon my feeble knees in a cruel vortex of windswept winter vertigo.
                         Laboring in customer service; pounding through the dreadful holidays of benevolent December; running on fermented carbohydrates; an empty acidic stomach full of amphetamine and convenient store hot-dogs. I'd purchase new pairs of socks and underwear instead of washing the old ones. My roommate slept on a roach-infested living-room floor on a gun-holed mattress we found by our apartment dumpster. For toilet paper: we'd routinely steal napkin packages from the dry-storage cage of the restaurant we worked in. Waiting tables; suffering through poignant Sunday afternoons; demonically maladjusted through Easter's delirium tremors; on the side-patio profusely sweating out cheap vodka and puking up prescription perkiset upon the myriad aisles of flower-bedding..
                         Blowing lines in the employee restroom; sauntering up to busy Saturday dinner patrons in a timorous stupor, giggly-laughing; bleary-eyed; cackling wildly to combustion- running on bad breath and broken faucet nostril alignment.
                         Last night I rested providentially upon a soiled bedspread; being tempered in tepid dream-state actualization: residential perimeters through rose-colored lenses seemed amiable and middle class enough for me; everything seemed pleasant amid transient intervals of futile premonition; I awoke in dank morbid reflection; to awful inextinguishable anxieties concerning "The new world order".