TEMPLE HQ
THIS DREAM AGAIN, DEJA VU!
11-19-2021
The kind of afternoon where the sky turns rococo, deep oil tones of pink and gold on blue infinity filtering the sunlight of god while the moonlight of magic emerged from all the little shadows between the shoulders of crowding angels. Tyrant was on his way, predatory-forward stalking down the sidewalks and grass.
Retarded baby bimbo queen relaxes on the balcony of her McPalatial McMansion bedroom, where the clouds are all shades of pink and orange, where the sun drips honey-sweet. Tyrant is stalking down the green looking for hard iron and wet concrete. The queen is waiting listlessly losing herself into the sky. Tyrant is stalking down the green covered with dew, his clothes covered with mud. The queen regent is watching the same clouds downstairs, something like their house, fake pillars, behind that same rococo sunset. Tyrant is stalking down the grass letting the music turn into white noise. The queen can’t hear anything over the all-treble mix of her CD player. Tyrant is stalking down the grass holding something energizing. The queen has barely had a sip of alcohol but knows she’s ready for whatever he’ll bring to the table. Tyrant is stalking down the grass looking for something to win.
She’s one of those rare gifted women with the ability to know herself through the eyes of men - a natural born celeb, looks in the mirror like her eyes are a camera, feels her body with predatory groping, feels nothing but her relations to the tongues of dogs and apes.
Tyrant stalks down the grass towards her, like a teenage dream lost in the moment until all the polymer textiles and physical exertions lead him to seeing her. She’ll never be held by him, never let him know her - from the moment they met, she was cheating on him with her gaze, her own hands, a better man than he could be, a man at the scale of God upon which her whole world is founded.
The clouds are all afloat in romance, she’s drifting off like Sandra Dee, drifting off in a plastic the color of skin-deep pain. Camera lenses dot the world between his footsteps trudging and her particleboard balcony. Gold glitters in captured sunlight. Empty walls where you can still hear the highway. Tyrant is stalking down the grass.