State of Dis Orient


Ladies dressed up to watch the jockeys race, not on but  against  their steed.

A befitting bet ,the only time you will see her bow down, wearing a fascinator – laid on the mud- sacerdotal, on her knees – lunacy fanned out in a stylish turn  of the century plead. 

Mixologists stir up  a great spectacle – 50  percent proof . This skulls hidden unconscious is about to  set  Ablaze

Four straws facing north ,east ,south, and west. It’s nearly 8 o clock and she is losing all sense of walking along cobbled streets – eyes misty -sultry in her glaze.

Somewhere, busy – night rolls her  up in its fringed tapestry. 

Abandoned,lost. Cries of her child – don’t let them take her . 

Don’t let them know she is the true reason the station has become a living catastrophe.

How did she make it past the patrolled border?

An elevator –

dizzy ,

disorientated ,

confused – out of order.

A wack to the mouth causes bones to elementary fracture .

Spewing out pieces of  ivory tooth and red rotten metallic pulp  . She has become the victim of a  mere capture.

No eyes, no mouth, no voice.

How can an  invisible entity  cause so much blood to make enough for  a devil   Mc flurry?

She stumbles about – finally free – absorbing kleenex tissues to stifle the color  of Florida’s orange   rain . 

Elbows, whistles, laughter  – a short dwarfed jockey, begs, catches her eye – nods at her in  mocking disdain.

Maybe just this  once she could wish for  a  platform called nine and three quarters. 

She knows the wizard told her to click her shoes thrice and think of home. How is that nothing resembles a place she knows holds the faces of  her loving daughters?

Chiming spinning, no change, no credit card ,no ticket. 

Ringing,coming from her leathery bag – could it possibly hold  the conscious of a good hearted  Jimney cricket?

Where are you ?

Where are you ?

Where are you ?

Where are you?

Familiarity breeds a set of stifled sighs .

Eyes veer to her left,  a drunken, matted hair women screams to her brood “don’t let these people put you down . You are who you are – Never be ashamed and don’t fucken frown.”

” Let’s have it.”

I’m home !

I’m home!

I’m home!

I’m home!

Nothing seems familiar. She  doesn’t recognize a face , a place , not even the sound of the underground.

Train tracks look as slumber full  a place to have a reality dysphoric fit.

All of you attempting  to copy her  brand of me -tooism.

Not even the darkest version of voodoo blended with rum can get you to her level of cuckooism 

Her  child appears. Disappears in the arms of another blur .

A man who says he is her husband is here to take her home – in his arms – he attempts to gather her.

Not without my daughter . She  knows what these child traffickers are doing. 

Police form  a ring around  her – all  flashing lights- yellows   and  blues.

What happened Miss – Miss? 

She breaks down into a misfit of  boo hoo-ing. 

Assaulted by her mind and  the evil hands of time. 

Destroy the ones she loves – her gaping  heart – her child won’t come near  her,  not even if  the thought crossed over to bribe her child  with  a dime.

Rage, fury, vengeance and betrayal – a feud with her family- the ones who have stuck by her to the very end.

Divorce on grounds of stationary inebriation . 

Rings are thrown  to the ground . Frodo come get what is rightly yours and have your eternal salvation.

Clean sheets, a bottle warmer tinkers at  her feet, a hug from the husband who she tried to chase away and defeat. 

A portrait of a framed  married couple- Cracked and jagged  on the side of this man . Fragmented glass distorts a smile, rendering it obsolete. 

So it is true she is the one encrypted with a  learned evil, the one who  holds the reigns of the one who goes by the name  Deceipt?

She picks ups her lace parasol. It can only hide little and only reveal so much – she still has the fascinator and her original  brand of  receipt. 

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