he tried very hard not to think too much of himself
                                                         but she conflagrated him turning him
inside out 
(he thought it was a good look on him)

inside he carried a spark a smouldering ember clad in soft clinging ash
he thought everyone did

then  when shed enter the room where she had long been gone(every time she was gone felt loong to him) had removed herself taken herself away(away from him) for concerns of others who he felt didnt deserve her attention or time

but he was critical

she should never put herself on the backburner
especially not for who she was  and had

he couldnt convince her
nor was it his place to do so

it was enough she felt she had to

unfeeling as he was

as was his Nature

it served him well

she on the other hand was exquisitely sensitive

she felt things at baser levels than he would ever

he wouldnt parse himself into the raw slivers that she did

so he said his piece
because he had to

and she did as she felt
because she had to do

                                                                            

                                                   then time came when she reentered the room
and its colour changed in his eyes
the ash cracked  then crumbled 
his ember roused
fed by her attention
her pure oxygen

it erupted
         in her presence his erupture erapture was a drug
a drug that manhandled his longnecked alcohol  his sensual perfumed hashish and jetblack opium balls

it held him fast  deliberately

and  wisely  he rationed it

stored it to nurse  and have  when she would take her presence away again

it was Then  then that he thought too much of himself 
                                                          selfishly   slavishly
how couldnt he                                                                                                                                      

he missed her

then  his imagination stoked  without circumspect or boundaries he denied stopgaps reality tried to employ

within its binary realm he tilted with irreality  wrested it in its place and while it tenaciously kept a place at his hip
twinning him like an obscene mirror

into that hellacious mix that he dragged other mirrors  and tried to sidestep their roiling silverfacets and myriad compoundeyes

he failed                                                    

but his failure only enabled his multiples                                                                                                  

and his multiples
               like insects moulting exoskeletons
growing larger and more deft
growing wings they chased blued lightning odd mersmerising astronomic spreads and whiled under moons too numerable to count whose cuticles sparred and crossed

taking her leave

she left him to himself

left him too much of himself  

1319,  Sunday,  29  5. 16

22-20s  Im the One  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5o2lwlaCtd0

zero-dark-hunred hours is how the military ascribes it

in accord his was zero-dark-threehunredfortysix hours and it occurred  --  as his wiccan girlfriend informed him  --  within reach of the witching hour

                           Ohyah he told her thats exactly what I need in my life Consort with witches divining exotic potions cackling erotic chants and manifesting black magic ooze

I thought bugs tormented me buzzing my head and ears

No she says likely they were witches

Harlots on wings says I

I figure I have options 
I can either throw em off my scent or I can try to upstage them 

he blew fresh-brewed coffee into the clinging dark into their sinuses and alongside it casually sipped at a tumbler of whisky and soda on the rocks a wee bit of an early morning smokescreen liquid Romulan cloaking devises

he held out hope that together the beverages might reinvent his tactless cruel early morning

                                                                         Yaknow he thought

slip it a mickey

throw it a curve

Didnt see that comingdidja?!

A veritable Dr Jekyll meets Mr Hyde

Mr. Hyde  Mr. Hydeplease

                      put your cane away

Mr. Hyde would you please put your cane away immediately  now  NOW!

                                                            ---   apparently Mr. Hyde is a compulsive 

if he put his cane down his bludgeoning cane away then much like Thor setting aside his hammer he may feel his animation and power diminish  

what man in his right head or his incapacitated mind wants to feel his strength ebb lessen or come undone

his cane put away his animus squeals and takes off to the underbrush leaving him feeling emasculated effeminate

and while Dr Jekyll assembles a dandy perhaps remains unaffected by Hydes plight Jekyll is prone to sharp frocks

and waistcoats their complement haberdashery silk stockings affects and finery

Hyde  he wouldnt be caught dead in such getups

they would incentivise his base immoral outrage   ---

and what does any of this have anything to do with him as he tries to dissuade and offset his possible near-bewitched be-bitched Hour 

he couldnt say

all these supplementary actions occurred behind his eyes  

he watches  keenly watches them devolve as if he were in a cheap penny arcade where they flickered defined in dull silver bars sheer white stark black silent–film footage befit yesteryears matinees

he halfexpected whiteface or blackface commentary in clever theatrical bubbles at the edges 

everyone not who-they-are but who-are-they

Hyde was waving his bludgeoning cane above his head again

there was matter on it

before he could ascertain what matter

Hyde took it down and then like a dog ran off with it to its secret place hidden from prying eyes and lapped it lapping it as if it were his cock after coupling with a bitch and tied she dragged him around by it until he was dizzy and dizzily he laid contently lapping the bitchs liquor . . .    

something was in the air this morning

it was entertaining

it consumed his attention

and consuming it it also ate the pain that usually distracted him twisting his thinking

hmm   but maybe this was nothing more than a new hyperUsual fueled for all intent and purposes by a bastard Irish coffee

Stevenson was Scottish

he hoped that wouldnt offend him

and ifn it did

tough

he was ded

                                                                                        strangemorning

        

0346,  Twosday,  7  6. 16

0845,  Day-between-Two-Ts,  8  6. 16

Dorothy  After Midnight  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d7DYCvCDeU8