Gloaming- a poem about the undiscerned, and the undiscerning

Cascading. A certain memory,
Driving up Genting
Seems like it was almost 30 km per hour, crawling.
Round the mountain
She goes.

Landslide. Fifty thousand fireflies,
Caught in a glass bottle
an old jam jar,
on the corner 
of Damansara Jaya

Flipsides. Miracles unseen.
Unbelief strips the heart
like a terrible dream
then they fake discernment,
then they fake wisdom.

The monkey, she dreams.
Of purple ice cream
Fitted gloves, knee high boots
Hot. She is.
Laying there inviting, like irish cream

Faculties a-fading.
Like New York dreams
Fifty cent eye-shades, 
from roadside stalls,
the neon balls circling flirting fingers of the dreamless man half-smiling.

Five-day week, suffocation wreaks.
Full length mirrors, imperfect, cracks be seen.
Perfect porcelain face, blood and disgrace
staring, eyes unseen.
His handsome face falls, revealing nothing.

There the faceless man,
in the gloaming light,
Stood salivating,
in galoshes and a hat on a misty morning,
and then he reaches out, his hands a-waving,

Too late she cries,
And he stood silently, screaming.

Rilke's Faces
InMon - Future Memories
Friday Picture Prompt