An Ironic Paradigm

Dancing in safe spaces….is dangerous.

Perhaps I am not real, hallucinatory; perhaps a calling angel. Perhaps you are not real, a pawn in the chess game that I am losing.

Last night we fought. Tonight I am cold. Tomorrow we are alone…barely existing.

I am a beautiful dreamer….mirrors of you endure in the walls of my heart…halls of my soul.

(Dusk…)

Sleeping with beautiful strangers…is dangerous. Falling in love with a mortal, a homogeneous fuck.

Once I wanted to be…the greatest. Falling asleep in Uncertain, waking in Europe…
and now I have left my body, energy gone …because I dance in small spaces.

My prodigious wisdom is illustrious, but not altogether virtuous. I will cease to abide comfortable shit.

I need a fast machine. I want to fly.

That’s “Miss Helen” to you, bitch.

A beautiful anima spawns a fool with no bounds.

I am the Ruy Lopez, goddamn: I am the cruelest of players you will ever meet. Shove my face in shit.

(Schism in the dogma; a glitch in the mold.)
Paraclete! Sew my memory shut, for I am a calf awaiting slaughter. (in situ) How I hate my thieving heart. Cipher, for I know not, Father.

I fly among angels…with my dirty wings.

K.P.