PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Oh Christ, where do I even begin? Try balancing the scales, baby dragons placed on either silver significant platter, weighing in for professional dragon-tier battle. ‘So, place your bets, yes, place your bets…’ you hear the jester jesting in the wake of all sorts of strange, circus life. ‘Yes, place your bets, my darlings!’ amongst medieval tethers to time. His voice was so sophisticated and subtle he squeaked through quite a span of side-streets even, delivering nuances of dread syllabic rhythm, nauseous contrived… ‘If ye but build it, my darlings, my darlings will come!’ It was bordering hysterical, yet you still carry the chant, leveling skepticism the whole while. ‘Would ye trust a friendly smile, he he!’ At first, I thought I saw something sinister. It turned out only a trick of my imagination. ‘Oh, well. I guess we can see what kind of parties hell is cooking up nowadays, whattaya say?’

‘Takes two to tango, so to speak.’

‘Yes. Yes indeed.

‘Don’t suppose I’ll be seeing you around any time soon?’

‘No, don’t suppose.’

She left me awestruck and emptied. I circumambulated the stage we were just on, dumbstruck, and she left me there panting in utter dissolution. She strutted off, and when she had entered the shadows of her vanity, outside the spectrum of bright blinking boulevard lights, discreetly undid one of the clasps of her bra strap and slid it off. I was still watching. She coyly glances round that elegant, slender shoulder of hers, winks, curtsy-ing into serendipitous dim.