Expressions In Color

"Être Pris"

2009-08-24T18:50:00.004-05:00

Its been close to an annum ago...
Within such a period my dreams have animated themselves,
While others danced amongst the grayest of clouds
And sheltered themselves between gasps of air in broken twilight.

I hadn't expected to scribe such a vision onto paper,
Until I found this true... Regretfully.

While impossible to extract such from my memory,
I can admit that there was no pain.
I might try to inhale as fast, and be interrupted,
As she did...
Or to experience the comparis of blunt force with a surge of water to the ears,
But will always fail.

What we perceive to be horrific is only our own conclusion drawn.

Before the headlights diminished,
Her breath was finished by something ethereal.

© 2009 Mirage Chopper

"At First Glance"

2008-09-01T16:05:00.004-05:00

To dream the taste of your lips at first glance was a journey beyond the mystical whisper of twilight's eve. With one hand began the journey behind your eyes. I thought, though, that with one touch, such emotion can be made reality. Should our lips collide, then my fingers will walk where many tears have traveled. How can I harness such color from the ocean? Such color that kisses the face of eternity and tries my heart with yearning. I hadn't planned this. I hadn't planned on my soul to swim with yours the moment before your lashes closed for the first time.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"He Who Is Not Forgotten"

2008-07-30T18:27:00.008-05:00

"To die completely, a person must not only forget but be forgotten, and he who is not forgotten is not dead." - Samuel Butler

Thank You for Your service, Uncle.
Thank You for everything.
Rest in peace.

1946 - 2008

"Berceuse II; To Baera M' Kheili Aezizi"

2008-07-17T20:53:00.009-05:00

I couldn't help but wake and reminisce the depth of the crystal blue and teals that touched me at the first breath of a magical eve.
To have just dreamed of you again, I could only lay and ponder.
And then I thought and became torn again as torn is me.
Only an annum ago, I danced atop cylinders and then fell down.
Wounded became the wind-up key to the box of forever and I cried my own song.
The same fingers that turned the key, did once interlace with mine and create a yearning from deep within me.
The premonition was accurate, yet I still reach out with desire for you.
Man ham dooset daram...
I should have known... a visit by horses in color.
I should have known.
If only I could have prolonged the moment where I finally swam in your ocean, I'd be more able to taste the tears of your sentiment.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Rains Of Uncertainty"

2008-07-01T22:42:00.001-05:00

This seems perpetual; an eternal ubiquitous paradox that perplexes me from the moment before my first breath of slumber, until the sunlight tastes my face. Could you be that moment. Could you be the last sound heard by me, before I can exist no longer.

I taste you in the air. And in this moment I stare across the plain of your silhouette and into a mirror of certainty. I feel myself inside you. Every curve. Every Ridge. My tongue traces your lips and extracts words unspoken from the very surface where many droplets have expressed themselves upon. The taste of such words is truly ethereal, but, how can one drink from a fountain tainted by the rain of uncertainty. So true, yes, that in the air I do exist.

Am I still that faint rolling though; the growling of the aurora that reverberates through your bones. Am I the anticipation of the declaration of resonance, or am I only the echo that finally shattered the glass that stood before a broken dream.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Streetlights"

2008-06-24T22:39:00.003-05:00

The streetlights seem to cast
Your figure wherever I go
Power lines whisper silently
Through them your voice does blow

My heel strikes the pavement
I pivot...
And my head turns too
I stand alone in shadows
I am missing you

I am walking into the wind
Inhaling scents of ghosts
Shattered beams as I look up
To your memory the fog toasts

And into glass sky
I cry...
Street of life, I thought I knew
I still walk turning back
Because I'll be missing you

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"She"

2008-06-19T18:47:00.004-05:00

The saturated red but muddy letters seemed to still cling to my face,
After lying on the newspaper for so long.
That day I was only thirteen.
Only a tortured soul could read such terror inscribed in my eyes,
As I now reminisce fragments of moments and erotic dreams mixed.
I only recall such after experiencing penetrations of my being,
After my own eyes close, whereupon I awaken with tremors.

Her skin was delicate like the underside of a lilac's budding masterpiece.
With a molten tongue followed by cold breath,
Her lips encaptured my nipples each,
While tasting the now hot barb-wire rings sealed inside them.

The fan's blades whirred, producing a perfumed breeze,
Which manipulated her fine hair to caress my jugular and clavicle.
Her cool thighs straddled mine,
As I lay prostrated, anticipating heaven while our fingers entangled in mid-air.
Her eyes rolled back as she sat upon me fully, rocking her hips fore and aft.
Her nails and the tip of her cross necklace parallel on my throat,
As I fucked her in slow deliberate strokes from underneath.

She lay there in a trance atop me, with flesh touching mine in all curves evenly, taking me in.
Moving in slow motion, she let out a faint but sexy growl from about her depths,
While running her fingertips on my biceps, turning them and pinning them down.
Her back arched upward and thrust her bosom heavily into mine,
Whilst her face lowered once again into the crevices of my shoulder.
The grip of her nails seemed to sharpen slightly,
As she dragged her wet tongue up my neck and swirled it into my ear, breathing.
While I exhaled, she planted her berry-sweet lips upon my own, and inhaled what was left,
Collapsing me of thought and sound mind.

Haunted, I remembered the day where I layed my face upon those newspapers, after the attack,
While bleeding in terror on my floor.
I climaxed while she pulled her body upright.
Still with her head down, her hair sifted slowly across my face.
Her nails positioned still on my arms.
I tried to wake up, I did.
But the bars of uncertainty closed my eyes with such force that terror kept them there.
I gave in to this again... This nightmare of she.
Interjecting in the midst of highlights of my dreams, turning them against me.

I opened my eyes, just for one more kiss.

Still without wind, my mouth remained ajar without a word to scream,
As each hair touching my face became a razor.
Each tip sparkling of silver and lacerating my cheeks,
Before she threw her hair back in slow motion.
Each strand from her hair harnessed a violet light and threw diamond like flashes into my line of vision.
Blood from my lips trickled down my tongue into my wind-pipe,
As the creature's spirit influxed her eyes which were now fixated on me...

Poised.
Ready.
The nails...
Oh, The nails!
They grasped my face and prisoned me still while her unstaunched fangs instantly penetrated me thrice.
Jesus Christ!
Did I want to scream, as my throat choked on my own life.
My eardrums were shattered by the noise of her cries.

I exited her while struggling to free myself from her knees,
Now encasing my rib-cage and cracking it with hard, digging thrusts.
The ecstasy filled beads of sweat ran between the curvatures of her breasts and down her belly,
As she licked her lips playfully.
Still staring me down with wanton, hollow eyes, and growling,
I shook uncontrollably.
My face inside-out as I lay there finally managing to awaken and scream before her tongue tasted mine again.

All I had wanted was a kiss.

I rested my head upon my wettened pillow, shaking.
Somewhere inside what feathers were left dry,
I heard the all too familiar crackle of newspaper,
While the fan blades threw scents of perfumed ghosts at my nose.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Half-Black Spoon"

2008-06-14T22:14:00.003-05:00

I held my breath open for a moment in anticipation of finding you disturbed. Your violation was truly my fault; rummaged through with wanton disregard, by the very hand which created this half-black spoon. How reluctantly I place this amongst so many meaningful articles; trinkets of life’s mould. Surely it felt the pain from the flames and the stabbing. Used. Objurgated… “Believe none of what you hear and only half of what you see”, I was once told. I place this then, dark-side down.

… How painful though, to have to lay your memory to rest here, next to the discouraged thorn, who at some point became fractured under its crimson umbrella.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Equestrian Dance"

2008-04-05T11:46:00.000-05:00

She easily captured my attention as the moonlight illuminated her form.
In the distance her neck careened backward exposing only a portion of her breast,
As she expelled her breath into the starlit night's air.
With a caparison of hunter and yellow,
The symmetry of her dark shoulders was slightly obscured,
And while approaching cautiously her haunches swayed in an incensing manner.
The silver plated chamfron through which she gazed at me
Cast a perpetual shadow over her eyes as she halted,
Then stomped, besprinkling the earth with clay dust.
I advanced slowly and was forced to ambulate to her side.
We began to circle one another.

My cerulean trappings ruffled behind me as I was forced to ascend from my quarters in a trice;
My bridle was pulled back as the two weapons clashed.
A sharp chord rang out as the knight's broadswords collided.
I admired her for a moment the adornment of red roses accented by baby's breath,
Upon her forelocks and was allowed to finally espy her green eyes through her chamfron.
I came down, experiencing the wet warmth of her ips against my ear.
The blades of the swords penetrated each knight's armor,
As they again exchanged blows and then plummeted to the ground.

Her dark mane caressed my cheed and then flipped across my browband,
Forcing my eyes closed in ecstasy.
My face now touched hers as our eyes suddenly become bound;
Her hot breath reached underneath my armor.
We placed out heads upon each others withers,
And rocked slowly as our shoulders brushed slightly.
She shivered from the feel of the cold steel of my crinet on her breast,
As we continued to dance slowly over a bed of roses and baby's breath.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Odi et Amo"

2008-02-28T21:57:00.000-06:00

I could only reach with my lips unclosed,
And descend into the penetralia of dreams unknown.
To the deepest depths one could drift and be lost,
Into the maritime abyss of living stone.
You splash crystalline colors and coax me forth,
From behind lashes of raven,
But I may drown and become disheartened,
Relinquishing what is my only safe haven.
Somehow you have summoned me,
From behind the glass again,
And show me what is left;
Just a single tattered rein.
Shall I not swim in dreams,
And stand at the nazir under the celestial skies?
Of course, all the while afraid to peer behind,
What very well may be a disguise.
Perhaps, instead I should presume that you watch,
From what seems ethereal above,
And grow wings not dry from my tears,
And entangle in flight with doves.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Lhasa"

2008-02-22T21:56:00.000-06:00

I looked past the nebulous markings at a lusterless reflection, and wondered why you’d do such a thing.
I couldn’t help but set such a memory aside before; striking the asphalt with a toe, in such desperate attempt to find pointless conclusion from a non-violent source.
The heat seemed to rise from the blackening home cooked intellectual nourishment, and finally managed to withdraw tears.
One of them, after trailing down the tip of my nose, found its way past the darkened edge of the wooden utensil, and sizzled until it became nothing.
With a hand clutching the cabinet, I stirred the morsels in a futile attempt to cover the journey past the cover of the box of memories and into the corner of the closet; a place to be trembling and scared shitless.
An engram, that when coaxed forth became a trip so scary you pissed your pants and woke covered with vomit and completely unplussed.
How is it that I should be given this vision to visit the princess willow at Lhasa?
Another tear sizzled on the surface and I still wondered why you’d do such a thing.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Starfish Waterfalls", Prelude to "The Extinction of Papillon"

2008-01-23T21:55:00.000-06:00

I had stopped to drink
From the violet water stream
But tonight so different
As the water expelled steam
It touched my lips as I drank
My knee sinking in the sand
A purple heart-shaped diamond
In the palm of my hand
I stood up in slow motion
As quietude was the night
The waves sparkled and
Every creature stood upright
They followed me now
As echoes coaxed me forth
The stars twinkled at me
As my head gazed north

The wind began to blow
A song of one thousand times
The hymn that played on
The mountain of glass windchimes
Red moonlit clouds appeared
As if they were ablaze
And fireflies danced with life
As I watched in a daze

They flashed a million colors
And while blinding me of sight
They torched the water's surface
A million candles of white light
Before a great cliff
They shined a blue gleam
Gathered in shapes of hearts
And disappeared beneath the steam

The air became silent
And the skies began to snow
White flakes touched the water
I saw a green glow
The animals joined hands
And the dragonflies began humming
The green light became bright
I saw the gatekeeper coming
Came forth then lightning
And the dragonflies hummed louder
The bourealis over me
And the snow turned to powder
He appeared on the stone wall
And drew out his sword
His blade slashed a bolt
Ringing out a sharp chord

The aqua shard danced
A coral rose fell from the sky
The water began to stir
And I started to cry
Far atop the water jumped
In her eyes I did see
Pink lips embracing the rose
Twas the stone manatee
Before she went down
A flake touched her lash
I fell to my knees
She was gone in a splash
I reached out for Lad
Where he was I did wonder
With the gatekeeper he sat
With his new friend Thunder

They raised their paws when
Arrived a silver mare
On its back was Myriam
The breeze was blowing her hair
One by one they each appeared
A line of the lands fairies
In clouds of glitter they stood
Their dresses of wild berries

There was a little boy there
Who could finally play tag
Matthew
Holding a match-box car
And a silver dog tag

There stood two silhouettes
Men with no walkers or wheelchairs
Grandfathers
Tall and handsome
Without concerns or cares
And yet there was another
One who didn't need introduction
McKinney winked at me as they saluted
This lightshow and production

The snails played their trumpets
And the bulls did their horns
The birds whistled in tune
While butterflies played the thorns
T'were two gerbils wearing shades
and playing their saxophones
The sky did darken
And decreased did the tones

A final sliver of lasting light
Grandmother stood poised and ready
She placed her pot on the ground
And threw out confetti
So beautiful her face
All painted with rose
Fading to dark
As the scene chose
The candles went out
I could not see
Smokey wicks and silence
All over me

Something held my hands
I felt so warm inside
I was led up the stairs
The fireflies my guide
They had formed a bridge
Of bright blue lights
I stood upon them on
The prettiest of nights
Two of them strayed
Dancing and brightly lighted
They touched the candles' wicks
Which were now re-ignited
Silver and pink diamonds fell
Showering from the sky
I heard on the cliff
A voice I did recognize

A simultaneous sigh
And the creatures began whispering
The leaves of the trees began blowing
And the wind was blistering
A broken doppler effect
I heard liquid rushing
And over the cliffs
Blue water began gushing
It crashed into the lake
Starfish dropped through the mist
I gazed at her silhouette
The diamond glowing in my fist
She stood over us
In a flowing white dress
The magic to unlock hearts
She did possess

I walked a bit closer
And saw her wet lips
The cool breeze was blowing
As her dress defined her hips
With seashells in her hair
It draped over her shoulder
The candles burned out behind me
And they bagan to smolder

Into me gazed her manatee eyes
Yet still she did not speak
She shed but one tear
Which dripped from her cheek
It fell from her face
And touched her soft breast
Her purple heart necklace
It kissed and caressed

She stepped onto the bridge
And walked towards me
I had waited for her
And now she was free
My hand reached out
Then I touched her face
I kissed her lips
As we did so embrace

The candles again burned out
And all of the faces faded
Her manatee eyes adjourned
And the waterfall became shaded
The Princess of Starfish then melted
As the skies continued to snow
The bridge began to disintegrate
And then I fell below

The fireflies began to scatter
In one of the scariest scenes
The butterflies began turning to ice
And flew above as darkening figurines
This was the last I saw of them
Standing in the cold with my skin exposed
Their wings turned to glaciers
And then my eyes closed

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Mikham ba ghi ye Omaemo a Sheghet ba Saem"

2008-01-06T21:54:00.000-06:00

The premonition had overcome me at twilight.
Such a revelation forced both my eyes closed and my breath to be drawn vacant in unison as you remained beside me, unknowing of the full torment I’d just experienced.
I choked back a tear and reached for your hand which easily found mine, as our fingers so interlocked and danced.
My lips fell apart slightly as I felt the gap in time, in the future, where you’d slipped away from me.
A rose could perhaps feel this on occasion; such pain in being severed by a blade, only to be given away for such a pointless reason.
Never before had I felt such vacancy, such emptiness as this, especially in knowing that this particular feeling was eventually to be real.

My grip tightened as I sought after the depth of the ocean once again, staring into the eternity of comfort for just a moment, while knowing that the meaning of this stare would remain perpetual between us.
How could I convey so many thoughts in so few words for that matter, but to only whisper them as you’ve fallen fast asleep.
To have spilt from my lips once what poured from my heart, I can only wonder if I’ve heard the same from you while in slumber.

© 2008 Mirage Chopper

"Berceuse"

2007-12-30T21:53:00.000-06:00

For just a fragment in time everything on the outside had become a blur as I grasped onto the fixed brass pole, the world spinning by in slow motion.
With my fingers falling into the smooth plastic grooves of the horse’s mane, I stroked its head as the golden sun cast the magic of dusk across the platform.
With my eyes open, I had finally reached through the glass wall which I’d once thought to be impossible to have been blown in dreams.
I had finally realized the true purport of the lingua franca; my release from the assuagement brought by antecedent dreams, and now stared into the eyes of the ocean herself.

As the carousel turned, she harnessed every forming star in the sky and placed them into her eyes, mixing them with the colors of the world’s most dazzling shores; teal and blue fused with emerald green.
As the breeze began to waft through the dancing figurines, it seemed to blend these colors and draw me in even closer.
Hundreds of faces in the distance faded just as quickly as they appeared as platform began spinning faster and faster.
I became dizzy, my arm still embracing the brass, but my hand holding my chest so inconspicuously.
The eyes of the manatee were no more; I had just fallen into the soul of the ocean, and into the heart of the keeper of my dreams.

I became entranced, while at the same time remembering a day where I had thought my life to be a music box; my fingers constantly turning the windup key, but never have truly listened to the song.
This moment, I had finally stood atop the music box and found myself cantering along the cylinder, experiencing the harmony of the chords played by the comb.
But, as every moment shall end, so did the song.
And as the song so ended, so began the berceuse that plays when I close my eyes in the evening.

© 2007 Mirage Chopper

"Neverending Dreams"

2007-12-22T21:52:00.000-06:00

Rolling a small piece of gravel underneath my boot, I scratched the stone wall slightly with my digits, hardly leaving an impression on anything except for my fingernails.
I took a deep breath and then another step down, still partially holding onto the cold wall and tracing the worn grout-lines.
I eyed the blue orchid in my hand and admired its symmetry, something abnormal for such a unique flower.

Her eyes flashed again in the midst of this daydream at midnight while my own eyes were closed and my mind at peace.
These eyes though, had become quite opaque; something had changed.
There was no longer that certain darkness, that depth I had sought after.
Rather, there was a striking resemblance in the color of the orchid I was holding.
So lucid these dreams had become, but they, along with time, have also become a loop; A never-ending quest for a kiss, this meeting and melting and mingling of souls.
I paused for a moment and thought that perhaps I could’ve been an Irishman in my past life, as I took another careful step down the spiraled corridor.

Occasionally in dreams I find myself sifting through sands that have somehow spilled from an imaginary hourglass and become indecisive; I tend to become ambivalent at times.
“Shall I stay and try to put this behind me, or wake and torture myself another day further, in anticipation of what may come as twilight falls?”
I questioned myself as my eyes flickered open and grasped the wet pillow sham beneath me.
… So difficult to force your eyes closed again in anticipation of having the inviolable asylum of this monotony disrupted.

While giving chase more rapidly now, the scents in the air became familiar as I rounded the corner, my foothold slightly giving away.
She delivered a more deliberate stare this time, a sapphire-like blue, mirthful look, antecedent to her bustling blond locks occupying the space behind her and then vanishing once again.
Her face was more perspicuous this time, nonetheless, bewitching.
I found myself lost in the moment, imagining the taste of such full, succulent lips.
Like a child I continued in pursuit as seductive laughter echoed through the remnants of this old castle, only to find myself eventually kneeling at a mossy stone bench.
I reached back to take hold of a dry edge and scooted myself slowly onto the bench, admiring the vines and pink flowers brushing against my shins.
I bent forward, grasping the orchid in both hands and closed my eyes, again, imagining what could be if this were real and not a dream.

I lifted myself rapidly, as some undeterminable force pulled me upright, and I could feel a softness similar to a horse’s mane brushing against my neck.
I canted my head to the left in anticipation of more, as my limbs became numb, my eyes still closed and my body in an ecstatic trance.
As I opened my mouth and inhaled loudly, my midsection slightly trembling, this warmth I had sought after finally touched my lips.
Her tongue tasted mine as the orchid fell from my hands, and her blue eyes penetrated my being; my breath detached from my soul for that very moment.
My eyelashes danced as I awakened and realized the orchid had been her hands all along.

© 2007 Mirage Chopper

"The Extinction of Papillon", Prelude to "The Cliff of Effigies"

2007-11-27T21:51:00.000-06:00

“Woe”, I cried out as I collapsed to my knees on this starlit night; the figurines above me danced in the moon’s light.
The frozen butterflies circled around the bourealis.
As the phosphorescent light illuminated, they crashed into my chest and face, and splintered, falling onto the white blanket beneath me.
The snow crept through the fingers on my left hand and bit them as I reached for my heart with the other.
This walk; the gait of time and its merciless lessons had finally taken me down as I wept sub-zero rains into the powdered debris.

I struggled to look behind me in thoughts, past the bridges I had crossed and the now arctic-turned streams that I had reached into at one time in previous dreams.
The cobblestone streets were no more.
The sharp crystal blade of the gatekeeper protruded from the caliginous green glow in the distance, and the platinum gates were frozen over.
They appeared glazed with the silence of midnight’s breath.
The fireflies’ glow had faded beneath the bitter overlay and reduced to a dim reminder of a fractured precious moment.

I continued to weep, now reaching out into the air and calling out names in a voice with no amplitude; just this now meaningless lingua franca, as my own breath frosted over my lips, and then my face as I looked ahead.

The Lepidoptera no longer played the beautiful songs of oboes with their thorns, along with the snails and their golden trumpets were embedded in the ice covering the trees.
The dragonflies that orchestrated my thoughts were fused into the collapsed bridge of frozen fireflies that had guided me here, and the starfish were anchored in the large icicle that was once a waterfall of emotions; the bringer of reverie.

“How could this be!” echoed across the nothingness that surrounded me; I finally managed to exit the words and then lay down, my face becoming part of the numbing scene.
My heart felt as if it were freezing in unison with my face, as I watched the waterfall crumple.
A single butterfly rested atop the semi-glazed surface near my mouth, fluxing its wings, and then turned to powder.

© 2007 Mirage Chopper

"Lingua Franca"

2007-11-05T21:50:00.000-06:00

So strange…

The juncture last week when we exchanged glances and I wondered how I had known you.
And those eyes; I wrote of them years prior to this moment.
The eyes of the manatee that I’ve quested after for what seemed eternities, and the voice in which I could only call ‘arcane’ then.
Before I could catch another impression, you collapsed.
And the ambulance took you away.
How can one ever be as perplexed as I am, especially after waking this morn’ where I met you for the first time in my dream, after seeing you finally in the flesh.

It seems true what I had written; “A barrier forever between us.”
I feel destitute, for no matter how hard I tried, I still could not reach you.
And I could only see your face and the achromatic street scene in the distance.
You said nothing within that fragment of time, except words from this unperceivable language only spoken with your eyes; this ‘language’ of comfort that only I know.

How can one undo glass that could never have possibly been blown in dreams, and reach through a barrier that only exists when your own eyes are closed.

© 2007 Mirage Chopper

"Arcane Voices"

2007-10-30T21:48:00.000-05:00

You.
You were of only stone,
Turning gracefully in my dreams,
A coral rose in your mouth,
Fading into an ocean's seams.
You spoke in arcane voices,
Our tears mixed with the waters' cries,
I swam suspended in time,
When my soul fell into your eyes.
An aileron sliced through the sky,
As the wing leaned starboard,
I wept while gazing the clouds,
Feeling as though falling forward.
I left on a journey,
Wanting to breathe your air,
To see your eyes for real,
In which only I could stare.
And down the glass my fingers trailed,
Streaming through the droplets upon,
Our eyes happened to lock,
Just shortly after the dawn.
O,
How I stood so many hours,
And never tired of your dance,
A barrier forever between us,
But I fell in love at first glance.

© 2007 Mirage Chopper

"Because It Must"

2007-10-23T21:45:00.000-05:00

I could study the playground for a moment in time, almost as though the sands inside of an hourglass had stopped transiently.

Two boys sat in the sand pit in their striped tank tops.
One was shoveling sand into a toy bucket loader, and the other pushing it to cover up a toad they had found.
The boy who pushed his die-cast bucket loader couldn’t have been more than three or four years old, and smiled, revealing the sand-filled crevices in his teeth as the creature emerged and reopened its eyes.

The newly painted fire hydrant was spitting water out slightly from the side and four children sat beside it on the sidewalk.
This group of two boys and two girls were covered in sidewalk chalk, the oldest girl’s face painted half pink and yellow.
She poured water onto her sister’s leg from an old metal plant sprinkler while the two brothers continued to score at the semi-cracked concrete.

The music from the ice cream truck parked around the back fence began to slow, and I could see the vendor covering a girl’s mouth behind the truck.
He frantically looked about and over his shoulder as he continued to violate the girl.

An old couple, whom I’d estimate to be in their early 80’s sat on a bench licking ice cream cones and holding hands.
They seemed to be discussing a single mother who was pushing her daughter on the swing set.
The young woman had a wildflower placed into her brunette, curly hair, the cleavage from her breasts exposed.

I could only reach out helplessly, unable to comprehend a sudden complete loss of control;
I was watching the accident I had caused from a third person’s perspective.

The tanker truck I had been pulling began to sway and eventually meandered into the ditch and began to turn over in slow motion.
I could only now stand there in this ‘nowhere’, this uncomfortable ‘somewhere’, while hearing the last chimes of an ice cream truck fade like a music box in cessation.
The rear of the tank struck the concrete K-rail and ruptured with such force that the liquid nitrogen spilled out.
The wave pushed toward the playground leaving a silver-like coating on the grass.
The tractor shook wildly in the air like a snake as the spinning tires hissed and began to smoke on the pavement as it came back down, throwing gravel and debris.
A high pitched whine from the diesel engine and the sound of twisting metal resonated through the steel climbing bars just beyond the freezing liquid’s reach.

As I continued to reach out in this fit of terror, his warm hand wrapped around my left wrist; Jesus stood beside me.
His head was canted slightly downward and he was crying.
I could see in the distance behind him hundreds of thousands of people.
Above the people there were angels who sat atop the sapphire rays of light, and behind them was God, dressed in robes made of untainted rainbows and his silver hair entwined with each hue displayed in this majestic and ethereal garment.
He held a staff of shining platinum encrusted with sapphire jewels.
I thought to myself, “How could such an awesome man be so cruel. How could he allow this to just happen.”
I yelled out and screamed in despair as the inhabitants of the playground turned their heads in response to the accident, the ice cream man still oblivious as to his surroundings.
I felt so helpless.
I held one hand over my heart.
Jesus gripped my hand now and turned to me.
He seemed to cry as portrayed in those old stations of the cross that I had visited so many times as a young boy in the Catholic church, and then he said to me in such simple terms, “Because it must.”
I turned my head back toward the earth, and as the wave hit, Jesus put his other hand around me and moved it to my shoulder, embracing me as he rested the side of his head against mine.

As the little girl sailed backward on the swing, kicking her legs behind her, the wave of liquefied nitrogen pushed through the swing set and past its rear supports, leaving only her frozen clothes partially wrapped around the freely swinging chain.
Her mother was splashed from the front and as the wave continued on, she was turned to solid ice.
As saddle from the swing set so hastily returned, it struck the woman and she shattered.
Pieces of her disintegrated and blew across the ground while the flower, still colored a beautiful purple and white, had fallen and rested atop the now silvered bark chips beneath her.

The wave continued to push past the swing set and over the top of the bench that the old couple had sat on.
I could not see them anymore, but their clothes held the form of two individuals sitting, as they too began to blow across the playground leaving the partially eaten ice cream cones to lay fused onto the alabaster wood.

I could see in the distance planes crashing and plumes of smoke and fire rising from the horizon.
Sirens began to sound and I could now hear the cries of the world echo throughout all of the lands.
“I hold the keys to Heaven, to Hell, and to the world”, Jesus added while further comforting me while I viewed these scenes.

The little metal bucket loader blasted across the frosted ground and created a plume of pink and yellow dust as it crashed into the fire hydrant, now frozen solid.
I could only see six pairs of shoes left as the frog leaped so nonchalantly next to the old, empty sprinkler can, and blinked his eyes to clear the ice from them.

The ice cream vendor held only a summer dress at this point, not realizing it, as he began to round the rear of his truck with a disoriented look upon his face.
The chilled liquid saturated the man’s arms and the side of his face as he so narrowly escaped this arctic bath which now coated the area.
The blast of the wave had rocked his vehicle so forcefully that it turned over and slid across the ground striking the fence which it had sat next to some moments before.

…Such an aftermath to view as I stood in awe and began to understand what the Lord was so briefly explaining to me as I watched a man limping toward the accident scene, dragging a leash and collar behind him.

Jesus slightly released his grip on my hand as I looked beside me and saw a young girl swinging beside God in the distance, and a group of children dancing in the spray of a fire hydrant.

I could study the playground for a moment in time, almost as though the sands inside of an hourglass had stopped transiently.

Two boys sat in the sand pit in their striped tank tops.
One was shoveling sand into a toy bucket loader, and the other pushing it to cover up a toad they had found.
The boy who pushed his die-cast bucket loader couldn’t have been more than three or four years old, and smiled, revealing the sand-filled crevices in his teeth as the creature emerged and reopened its eyes.

The newly painted fire hydrant was spitting water out slightly from the side and four children sat beside it on the sidewalk.
This group of two boys and two girls were covered in sidewalk chalk, the oldest girl’s face painted half pink and yellow.
She poured water onto her sister’s leg from an old metal plant sprinkler while the two brothers continued to score at the semi-cracked concrete.

The music from the ice cream truck parked around the back fence began to slow, and I could see the vendor covering a girl’s mouth behind the truck.
He frantically looked about and over his shoulder as he continued to violate the girl.

An old couple, whom I’d estimate to be in their early 80’s sat on a bench licking ice cream cones and holding hands.
They seemed to be discussing a single mother who was pushing her daughter on the swing set.
The young woman had a wildflower placed into her brunette, curly hair, the cleavage from her breasts exposed.

I could only reach out helplessly, unable to comprehend a sudden complete loss of control;
I was watching the accident I had caused from a third person’s perspective.

The tanker truck I had been pulling began to sway and eventually meandered into the ditch and began to turn over in slow motion.
I could only now stand there in this ‘nowhere’, this uncomfortable ‘somewhere’, while hearing the last chimes of an ice cream truck fade like a music box in cessation.
The rear of the tank struck the concrete K-rail and ruptured with such force that the liquid nitrogen spilled out.
The wave pushed toward the playground leaving a silver-like coating on the grass.
The tractor shook wildly in the air like a snake as the spinning tires hissed and began to smoke on the pavement as it came back down, throwing gravel and debris.
A high pitched whine from the diesel engine and the sound of twisting metal resonated through the steel climbing bars just beyond the freezing liquid’s reach.

As I continued to reach out in this fit of terror, his warm hand wrapped around my left wrist; Jesus stood beside me.
His head was canted slightly downward and he was crying.
I could see in the distance behind him hundreds of thousands of people.
Above the people there were angels who sat atop the sapphire rays of light, and behind them was God, dressed in robes made of untainted rainbows and his silver hair entwined with each hue displayed in this majestic and ethereal garment.
He held a staff of shining platinum encrusted with sapphire jewels.
I thought to myself, “How could such an awesome man be so cruel. How could he allow this to just happen.”
I yelled out and screamed in despair as the inhabitants of the playground turned their heads in response to the accident, the ice cream man still oblivious as to his surroundings.
I felt so helpless.
I held one hand over my heart.
Jesus gripped my hand now and turned to me.
He seemed to cry as portrayed in those old stations of the cross that I had visited so many times as a young boy in the Catholic church, and then he said to me in such simple terms, “Because it must.”
I turned my head back toward the earth, and as the wave hit, Jesus put his other hand around me and moved it to my shoulder, embracing me as he rested the side of his head against mine.

As the little girl sailed backward on the swing, kicking her legs behind her, the wave of liquefied nitrogen pushed through the swing set and past its rear supports, leaving only her frozen clothes partially wrapped around the freely swinging chain.
Her mother was splashed from the front and as the wave continued on, she was turned to solid ice.
As saddle from the swing set so hastily returned, it struck the woman and she shattered.
Pieces of her disintegrated and blew across the ground while the flower, still colored a beautiful purple and white, had fallen and rested atop the now silvered bark chips beneath her.

The wave continued to push past the swing set and over the top of the bench that the old couple had sat on.
I could not see them anymore, but their clothes held the form of two individuals sitting, as they too began to blow across the playground leaving the partially eaten ice cream cones to lay fused onto the alabaster wood.

I could see in the distance planes crashing and plumes of smoke and fire rising from the horizon.
Sirens began to sound and I could now hear the cries of the world echo throughout all of the lands.
“I hold the keys to Heaven, to Hell, and to the world”, Jesus added while further comforting me while I viewed these scenes.

The little metal bucket loader blasted across the frosted ground and created a plume of pink and yellow dust as it crashed into the fire hydrant, now frozen solid.
I could only see six pairs of shoes left as the frog leaped so nonchalantly next to the old, empty sprinkler can, and blinked his eyes to clear the ice from them.

The ice cream vendor held only a summer dress at this point, not realizing it, as he began to round the rear of his truck with a disoriented look upon his face.
The chilled liquid saturated the man’s arms and the side of his face as he so narrowly escaped this arctic bath which now coated the area.
The blast of the wave had rocked his vehicle so forcefully that it turned over and slid across the ground striking the fence which it had sat next to some moments before.

…Such an aftermath to view as I stood in awe and began to understand what the Lord was so briefly explaining to me as I watched a man limping toward the accident scene, dragging a leash and collar behind him.

Jesus slightly released his grip on my hand as I looked beside me and saw a young girl swinging beside God in the distance, and a group of children dancing in the spray of a fire hydrant.

I could study the playground for a moment in time, almost as though the sands inside of an hourglass had stopped transiently.

Two boys sat in the sand pit in their striped tank tops.
One was shoveling sand into a toy bucket loader, and the other pushing it to cover up a toad they had found.
The boy who pushed his die-cast bucket loader couldn’t have been more than three or four years old, and smiled, revealing the sand-filled crevices in his teeth as the creature emerged and reopened its eyes.

The newly painted fire hydrant was spitting water out slightly from the side and four children sat beside it on the sidewalk.
This group of two boys and two girls were covered in sidewalk chalk, the oldest girl’s face painted half pink and yellow.
She poured water onto her sister’s leg from an old metal plant sprinkler while the two brothers continued to score at the semi-cracked concrete.

The music from the ice cream truck parked around the back fence began to slow, and I could see the vendor covering a girl’s mouth behind the truck.
He frantically looked about and over his shoulder as he continued to violate the girl.

An old couple, whom I’d estimate to be in their early 80’s sat on a bench licking ice cream cones and holding hands.
They seemed to be discussing a single mother who was pushing her daughter on the swing set.
The young woman had a wildflower placed into her brunette, curly hair, the cleavage from her breasts exposed.

I could only reach out helplessly, unable to comprehend a sudden complete loss of control;
I was watching the accident I had caused from a third person’s perspective.

The tanker truck I had been pulling began to sway and eventually meandered into the ditch and began to turn over in slow motion.
I could only now stand there in this ‘nowhere’, this uncomfortable ‘somewhere’, while hearing the last chimes of an ice cream truck fade like a music box in cessation.
The rear of the tank struck the concrete K-rail and ruptured with such force that the liquid nitrogen spilled out.
The wave pushed toward the playground leaving a silver-like coating on the grass.
The tractor shook wildly in the air like a snake as the spinning tires hissed and began to smoke on the pavement as it came back down, throwing gravel and debris.
A high pitched whine from the diesel engine and the sound of twisting metal resonated through the steel climbing bars just beyond the freezing liquid’s reach.

As I continued to reach out in this fit of terror, his warm hand wrapped around my left wrist; Jesus stood beside me.
His head was canted slightly downward and he was crying.
I could see in the distance behind him hundreds of thousands of people.
Above the people there were angels who sat atop the sapphire rays of light, and behind them was God, dressed in robes made of untainted rainbows and his silver hair entwined with each hue displayed in this majestic and ethereal garment.
He held a staff of shining platinum encrusted with sapphire jewels.
I thought to myself, “How could such an awesome man be so cruel. How could he allow this to just happen.”
I yelled out and screamed in despair as the inhabitants of the playground turned their heads in response to the accident, the ice cream man still oblivious as to his surroundings.
I felt so helpless.
I held one hand over my heart.
Jesus gripped my hand now and turned to me.
He seemed to cry as portrayed in those old stations of the cross that I had visited so many times as a young boy in the Catholic church, and then he said to me in such simple terms, “Because it must.”
I turned my head back toward the earth, and as the wave hit, Jesus put his other hand around me and moved it to my shoulder, embracing me as he rested the side of his head against mine.

As the little girl sailed backward on the swing, kicking her legs behind her, the wave of liquefied nitrogen pushed through the swing set and past its rear supports, leaving only her frozen clothes partially wrapped around the freely swinging chain.
Her mother was splashed from the front and as the wave continued on, she was turned to solid ice.
As saddle from the swing set so hastily returned, it struck the woman and she shattered.
Pieces of her disintegrated and blew across the ground while the flower, still colored a beautiful purple and white, had fallen and rested atop the now silvered bark chips beneath her.

The wave continued to push past the swing set and over the top of the bench that the old couple had sat on.
I could not see them anymore, but their clothes held the form of two individuals sitting, as they too began to blow across the playground leaving the partially eaten ice cream cones to lay fused onto the alabaster wood.

I could see in the distance planes crashing and plumes of smoke and fire rising from the horizon.
Sirens began to sound and I could now hear the cries of the world echo throughout all of the lands.
“I hold the keys to Heaven, to Hell, and to the world”, Jesus added while further comforting me while I viewed these scenes.

The little metal bucket loader blasted across the frosted ground and created a plume of pink and yellow dust as it crashed into the fire hydrant, now frozen solid.
I could only see six pairs of shoes left as the frog leaped so nonchalantly next to the old, empty sprinkler can, and blinked his eyes to clear the ice from them.

The ice cream vendor held only a summer dress at this point, not realizing it, as he began to round the rear of his truck with a disoriented look upon his face.
The chilled liquid saturated the man’s arms and the side of his face as he so narrowly escaped this arctic bath which now coated the area.
The blast of the wave had rocked his vehicle so forcefully that it turned over and slid across the ground striking the fence which it had sat next to some moments before.

…Such an aftermath to view as I stood in awe and began to understand what the Lord was so briefly explaining to me as I watched a man limping toward the accident scene, dragging a leash and collar behind him.

Jesus slightly released his grip on my hand as I looked beside me and saw a young girl swinging beside God in the distance, and a group of children dancing in the spray of a fire hydrant.

© 2007 Mirage Chopper

"70th & Madison"

2007-10-15T21:38:00.000-05:00

The ripples in the puddle made it nearly impossible to distinguish the contours of my face as I stared deeper and deeper.
A drop of sweat fell amongst the hundred or so raindrops that pervaded the same space for the moment.
My knees trembled as I eyed the mud on my shoes and dirt scuffs on my socks and calves.
Such ominous skies pushed their breath across the water beneath me, as the approaching headlights fragmented my vision.

Standing from the outside of the passenger window,
I fell into her eyes and admired the tan plain beneath her half-shirt with my imagination.
With only one mile left to run home, I should have known better than this.
To give into her coaxing me inside.
... "Only when it rains", I thought to myself as we began speeding down the main thoroughfare,
My legs slipping back into the cool leather seat.

She reminded me of a girl whom I had known while young before she drown.
I rode behind her and every now and then her perfume mixed with the scent of corn husks and wafted toward my nose on 125th street again.
I heard our laughter and the whirring of our bicycle spokes,
And felt the sun warming me as we layed in those old soybean fields,
touching each other's skin.
Such beautiful blonde hair streaming behind her or otherwise;
It never tangled as my fingers would run through it,
As I licked her lips.

The car tires slowed,
The audible splashes of water became combined with the rubber biting pavement became distinct.
A cool draft followed by the click of a car door startled me,
And I opened my eyes.
"Must've slipped away for a second"
... A dream inside of a nightmare.

I could only see the husks of corn just inside the level of fog surrounding the car,
As I glanced quickly at the cross still rocking as it hung from the mirror.
"Where the fuck am I?"

I shut the door gently,
The rain reduced to a fine but stinging mist.
... An eve so surreal where I could feel the texture of the fallen husks beneath me.
The wipers cycled, drawing my eyes to her on the hood.

She sat atop the mustang curling her fire engine red painted toes,
She drew her fingers up her bronze, wet legs displaying temporary streaks where they had just passed,
Slowly leaning back and spreading her legs.
The wipers cycled again as her hand moved between her thighs and pulled up her skirt.
I could see her shaved pussy as her fingers passed by.
I approached her from the front,
Stepping through the deep water as she leaned back and rested her head on the hood,
Her silky hair seemed to fuse with the wet blue paint as she writhed her body and closed her eyes.

I placed my tongue at her ankle, mimicking her every previous move,
Tasting her skin,
A hint of the perfume in my dream prior.
Her fingers moved down again, spreading her lips and then slowly travelled up to expose her erect nipples as I glanced upward and tasted her right thigh.
I moved my mouth past the gold ring affixed to her navel,
Pressing my chest against her breasts.
With her tiger-lilly fingertips stroking my back,
My tongue slid across her lips.
Now inside her, I could feel every ridge, every curvature and pulsation inside.
I met her closed eyes and a raindrop suspended itself from the long lashes afore me,
And then she softly whispered, "I loved you. I'll kill you."

And then another cycle...

As if inside her soul, the sapphire blue eyes opened and collapsed my breath as her mouth opened.
My fingers scrambled to escape, but could only slide across the hood as she held me inside,
Stabbing me with rapid thrusts from her nails.
With my legs now numb, I was horrified as the skin on my back parted and her fingertips pinned me to the hood.
She screamed in orgasm and simultaneously penetrated my face;
The sound a broken Doppler effect.
My ankles were being shredded by the small, sharp plastic protrusions on the headlights,
And the inside of my legs burned on the radiator grille.
Her skin began melting in the raindrops before me and emulsified,
Streaking down the hood and covering the headlights.

I began screaming and was then released;
She just vanished.
My body began sliding backward along the hood as my eyes focused on approaching headlights through the opaque car windows.
As my feet touched the ground again, I bent down and held my knees,
Catching my breath.

The ripples in the puddle made it nearly impossible to distinguish the contours of my face, as I stared deeper and deeper.

© 2007 Mirage Chopper

"After All"

2007-10-01T21:25:00.000-05:00

The frost creeped over the side window as I exhaled upon it,
Fading into the streetlight-lit steel beams beneath me.
Wiper blades smearing the portions of fetus across the broken windshield,
To produce a sound of such rhythmic but broken melodies.
What to expect from somethng broken.
... "After all I've done for you".

I used to hear the midnight whistle,
So comforting from underneath the warm covers,
Only to pursue it so.
Speeding through the midnight hour,
On this eve of a tortured soul.

Still hearing the wicked words in my mind,
They found their way across my tongue and spilled across the wheel before me.
I gripped it as my lenses mixed with the rain and shattered the windshield.
The green bottle began to chill my thighs,
And after having my fill of its poison, I lost control of the world,
Now twisting in a counter-clockwise direction.

Delerium.

Small fetuses began pelting the broken glass before me;
Their eyes exchanging glances of sadness with my own,
Only to have the wipers smear them across the square-like portions
Which already obstructed my vision.
The washboard sound of this produced a rhythmic but broken melody
Underneath the partial mouths screaming those same wicked words.

Darkness.

Awakened by the chimes sounding in unison with the alternating red flashes,
My forehead rested against the glass; An obscure ring forming from its heat.
The frost creeped over the side window as I exhaled upon it,
Fading into the streetlight-lit steel beams beneath me,
And the white gate tapping upon my shoulder.
Still hearing the wicked words in my mind as the blinding light approached.

I used to hear the midnight whistle,
So comforting from underneath the warm covers.
What to expect from someone broken.
... "After all I've done for you".

© 2007 Mirage Chopper