The science of hypocritically vivid illusions

There is no discovery, here nor then, in the discovery of a future discovery. Even though, there is constant parthenogenesis of new and ultimately subjective ones when eliminating the rational knowledge of having such discovery absorbed in, and into the being itself: a life style or a style of life. Specially, if it concerns and relates to those that are not here nor there; those that provoke a rendezvous, and originally give birth to neologisms of indivisible logics, formulating a self-meaning, or habit of going nowhere and everywhere simultaneously to find a single coordinate - what you are.

[You stroke: all plays, and finally cross the verge of all illusion possible - a nocturne reality within my presently lived dreams - not meant to be there?

To you, and immediately, all has gone a million times.
But now, and only in our multitude of present tenses, it’s different: I do not feel me (?),
I feel You

– I know.

Yet I’m alone – even without you.

No, you don’t know the feel of hidden and molecular solitude in a departed body;
the hungry lust of your pragmatic movements
- singularly camouflaging plurality -, is impotently fighting against our time-consuming infinity, and is looking directly towards me, thus romantically avoiding thy mouth.

If they only knew It was over while being – dead?

Why?
Your companion lies to its own definition.
Why?
No life-lasting mirage in your promising eyes when they (you?) kiss me.
Why? (How?)
Deliberately, cruel send offs’ dope me, garb resident, to where all soul-seeking visions trespass the sharp edges eyes cannot bare, and bleed – our elsewhere.

- Disgusting and apathetic beauty wounds (?) deeper than all indifferent, yet conceptually concrete sympathy.

Always in a moment, just to taste your – my – moment forever.

- a so destructive yes to my conquistador, and to that I which I force (?) to join and seek forth.]

Idealistic and un-excludential evil.