believe in me

And didn't the episodic vibrations flutter? The Triangular Dissids approach and retract, growing like spongy membranes of emotional spuncake sourcesauce ,8,1- the flitters, the jitters. Infinite-pixel-width grid-based reality modification devices and willful manipulation of mindsilence ingrained outgained headache tomato punch. ,8,1 Pull out the threads from your worn sweaters, envision a secluded place, that far off place inside your mind that you may have never seen but have always known is there--put yourself there, in the Waiting Room, and look out to the scary world through prismed windows, trembling. Further. Deeper.

Because of you, in gardens of blossoming flowers I ache from the
perfumes of spring.
I have forgotten your face, I no longer remember your hands;
how did your lips feel on mine?
Because of you, I love the white statues drowsing in the parks,
the white statues that have neither voice nor sight.
I have forgotten your voice, your happy voice; I have forgotten
your eyes.
Like a flower to its perfume, I am bound to my vague memory of
you. I live with pain that is like a wound; if you touch me, you will
do me irreparable harm.
Your caresses enfold me, like climbing vines on melancholy walls.
I have forgotten your love, yet I seem to glimpse you in every
window.
Because of you, the heady perfumes of summer pain me; because
of you, I again seek out the signs that precipitate desires: shooting
stars, falling objects