Vendôme

  I dreamed about a single Camphor tree by the cliffs. Towering mountains clashed together behind a gaping river thousands of meters below. The field grows knee-high rye, it was a field of gold that stretches beyond the horizon.  The rye clears in only one region: where the Camphor tree is. I could see a figure, recling by the tree. The figure remains idle, back against the auburn tree bark and his eyes shut. The ground tremored when he sluggishly welcomed light onto his outstretched arm, face, and into pupils.  From behind the tree he withdraws a transparent vase. In the act of upending it, the rays of midday sun shot into my eyes and I was temporarily blinded by the brilliance of the boy and his vase.  He sees me now, he takes me as an intruder. I wanted to say I mean no offense: I will bring him no harm. His delicate body sank, shaking his head as he went down.  The vase, containing all that is glorious, explodes and glass propelled forward across the rye field. The cliffs cried, th

A verdant hue was the sky, and the sea breaks away where the brilliant glares end. Gallant stallions of waves prance, hollering upon the faux shores. Past the coastline, a revered Shungite rock protrudes from the surface, its sedimentary periphery refined and eroded from years of decay. The contour of the awashed figure starkly contrasts with the black mass beneath him. Tidepools litter the rock, and from one the young man lifts his foot. At noon, souls are seldom free from lingering sorries of yesterday. Memories of yesterday escapes the youth, and at once I feel myself immersed into his mind. Foreboding thoughts trouble his mind, I feel. His visage reflects the mystifying configuration of clouds, watch them encapsulate the whole expanse of the sky, and pauses at their thousands of answers untold. 

Chasm No need to glorify our state who harbored you for when the societal tides washed you whole?  despondence and silent sprouting  days until the leviathan takes ahold  entranced, the veiled singer raises her head to see:  this city upon stonemasonry is bleached white  count the sorrows and idolize the tinged gold  we must escape, escape this feigned prosperity

Dubai, World's Fair I'll ease into this world and I'll write about myself Sand settles, the bell tolls The titans crash into the ground While I am enraptured by time the seasons have mellowed me out hollowing my features and furrowing my brows  Untamed are the heavenly creatures but their feathers all fall down to earth even if their prowess is an illusion I will forever bow to fiction Give into society When the caustic crowds overwhelm the leaves' rustling When the bureaucrats tighten their cuffs I take my leave