“A poem I call for.” Or  “Paranoia, that’s what you give me.”

Excerpts from upcoming novel...

For my boyhood dreams, my sister and all my mates.

In tribute. An instant. The factual sincere. I dream voyant clarity. In fictive factual fortunate manners. A fashion. Dream fraction. Conceived. Alluded informal significant ignorant behavior. Illude the very eye of reality. A destiny. A voyage into mist. Mythic portraits of another nature. I conceive morality. Delude ingression. By whom and I. Listen to you.

A risen clouded sky leads memorial followers into a disguided foggy Sunday morning. Sun shines through clouds as sparkling touches of another crystal night. In fiction you say? I laugh at you looking feverously upon a rather informal situation’s considered obligation. We knew life in these days. We were young. We, you and I were portraits in a bloodred sky imaginate void deep into a passion few knew. We were hope and glory.

I walk restlessly home after a visit at a restaurant. Cold stricken dire and adventurous. No such thing as fame they say when you can not be loved. Snow this night sheds roads into purity. Introduced me to what I later considered beauty. In these days together. You whom knew me for something I am not taught me nothing. I later knew I had to know before I guessed.

Day breaks I found myself in set up or pocketeer. Knowing most of town to be in on it. I suggested sleep. That nightmare returning to me. Soothing me into another abscent priority. Whomever knew me for a thief? Boys next door conspired there were noise and all sorts of strange things happening at my house. Did I think life was but a slumberous indignant party?

Leave me alone I said to some bullyboys knocking at my door. I could not touch her. She could not touch me. She lived next door. There must be evidence.

Well of course there was no case. They all knew before they asked me. Found insane without trial or testimony. I had no idea what stood before me. It was larger than me. Large as town.

So I should have moved to another city. Townsmen didn’t have no particular interest in anything else than seeing me confined for making noises and appearing a freak. If you can not process your own liquor you may as well not distribute. I was a loner. No sense of dignity at all my elder sibling I don’t want to mention accordingly described me. Later aware of certain pious claims she set me up; wanted to sell me at a slave market as the rest of my family. There had been death in my family. Good grief and kindly forget this rather strange incident. Could I have seen my own destiny? “May old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind. May old acquaintance be forgot and days of auld lang syne.”

Boats. Yes I loved playing with boats when I were a boy. I figured some folk knew although I appeared a freak there were plenty of bully boys larger than me. If you can’t swim, run for it. If the waves attack you astonish them. If the wind in your hair blows you away there’s nothing to do but listen to what they say and let them have their portrait of astonished certainty. Me I am you should have taught me at school.

Morning breaks. December 1633. After having been to a party somewhere up town. I figured and knew my mates weren’t up to no good. Deceit they say know you better. So what led these so called authorities to claim my guilt? I said; “I don’t know sir they never asked and you know what, sir, they never asked me again.” “Pardon my language little one I could not foretell you as a citizen.” Lesson learned; never look for honesty in a street-venders corner. I was certain there was no place for me in that town anymore. I took a walk up hill to a shed I’d bought and was away from the harassing crowd of townsmen looking for me. Sympathy comes with certain vengeance if you are not one of them.

I have to admit my boyhood was most definitely not innocent. Although later aware of my notorious personality I was convinced of being a more sinister man after they threw me into the river that was.

Well; as you are you become. Life I knew you for more than life. I knew I was in possession of illegal goods. I knew this a rather minor case with officials had seduced me into a nightmare. I sat down in church and prayed to our Lord. Possession of drugs in this land is not punishable by death to my knowledge. Though the authorities portrayed me as some sort of leader in this environment capable of luring innocent teens into a nightmare. Absinthe. The green fairie. Queen of mist. My good associates the artists I knew. Taught me everything I know. I withheld sanity. I withheld reason. I withheld the property of soul. What was it that turned you away from us my good friend? Closer to me my girl; I see townsmen had been about again. “To see my friend again in habit of my sanity.”

A thief and his ways. Banner sways to impositions of a strange sophisticated benefacteur. Humility and I. An honourable man. “Don’t you know when to keep your mouth shut son.”

I knew my portrait well that night. I knew after staring into my mirror for an instant I had to know myself for what I am before townsfolk. Never saw no reason to pay them tribute.

Notorious bohemian me sought for the benefacteur instead.

“Even the cats know my name.” In a solute instant pride of morning glory. The town crier announced townsmen were corrupted and all in a spite of vengeance to righteously justify a picturesque damnation of anything that moves and doesn’t cast a shadow. I am the mirror man.

Each morning each night before the mirror. It is I you are. It is me and you. We are one. Steal not this flag and impose a considered gentle honest belief of what you know is life within the mirror-land. I know you well.

Evident. The flaw of reason. How to allure a habitually sane man into a dream of insanity. I don’t blame you my connosceurs for you taught me how to live. Let us sit down in piece and have ourselves a glass of liquor or two. Nothing. Absolute. Nothing can touch you when you’re drunk.

See me for what I am I begged our Lord. A man who never means no harm chasing destiny for a fool. I understood. People talk. I envisioned a walk. There’s limits to a prostitute and her conversation. Astoundingly. Pretense. You inside there. You whom never once leave me alone. May I know you as I am?

There was no answer. What is your name I tried to ask. Why is you are more alive than me? And you certainly are for me to see. Preach for me.

Leave me alone. I need to be alone. I crave in vanity to be alone. I crave immensely improbable cause to achieve a righteous judgement. It was never I. Was it you my mirror?

These questions I have for you. Is not what I knew. You and I should be friends?

Sanity you say no. Though extravagant and rebellious. Do you my man in the mirror think you are more than me?

In a sudden moment of upease I go to my friends. Leave my mirror man. I tell them both painters me a poet at the time. As we sit here in peace. What is it here that keeps the women away? They both point their eyes one side to another. No comment I think. Will they stare at me as the prostitutes do? “You dare poet friend. Know how to enjoy life. Sitting here with you in this red house is an honour.” Won’t let them in on the mirror room.

There comes the lady in the red dress. The two painters and I arise from our leather chairs. Whom will have the first word I cautiously think to myself. Will she want to see my mirror? “Sit my dear and accompany us with your grace.” I bow and kiss her hand. “I’d be happy to.” “What would your beverage be; soothingly, fierce or full of fire?” No imminent answer. “Sit and I shall be your portrait. Look at me and I shall colour you with my pride.” The three of us and you make a descent company. “What would your drink be?” “I choose the flame.” Later she shall see my mirror. I set fire to the sugar cube graciously lean over the small table and place it before her. She looks at me with eyes clear as crystal. “Drink my tears sunshine let me fall.” She sips gently.

Amidst nowhere to be found. Fond. Famously surrounded by ignorant never deemed. I found you of all. An estimate now. Destiny. I lay my head on my bed and smoke. Do you need me? None answered. I could not seem to find my own reflection. The woman in a red dress my love. Silently amused by this dignified conversation. I did not let her in.

My two painter friends enlightened by crystal tears. Deem not me for my ignorance. I set to another theme of what heights this talk should pursue. The woman is naked. “I ain’t ever seen such beauty before me.” She lured us with her beautiful smile to an art of what she is. Forever.

“How sincere in your innocence.” Her pride of timeless nature. Conceived. Deceived. In this youthful honesty I portrayed my soul. My soul in her. I understood I could not lead her to the mirror room. Escapades; destined dreamers surrogate illusions of non existancy. I crave beauty with immortal lust. Tease. Upease. Our conversations this night never ended. What taught our centennial conclusions of eternal glory. This rainy night.

“Much admired woman did someone tell you they don’t easily come like you.”

“Betray us all woman we shall not laugh at you.” “Sit on this stool and we shall paint while our poet friend enflame you with words.”

[1]Woman. Adored sensual angelic creatures. If I could do more than think about these. Invite her to your feast mirror man.

Dignity. Fame. Beauty. All of these treasure by your own. All of these formalities of known. They never. I never. “We adore you.”

A moments silence. What I knew about you. What they told me. How they tare my very soul into pieces. You in red whom I want. You flame of angels. You distant holy dream. Assure me of these. You wild eyed pretty you.

A deep casual neglect of reasonable doubt. Talk changes into more dire consequences. She puts her clothes on.

This night. Born of right. I dreamt you were my image in a mirror.