Somewhere out there is something through all the dangling darkness.
There is a pitter patter of reverse rain.
A string quartet of meaningless existentialism.
We are caught between two worlds.
There is no turning back.
Each person here to play their own part.
Every thought endlessly echoing for future generations.
For future generations.
I don't know why I am here, why I am enhanced and injected, with fear.
Perhaps that while death was sweeping the sea of people he forgot me.
The choreography of shooting stars passing by us.
Here we all are together in this world.
Love is like deja vu seemlesly causing the whole of the universe to function.
Woke up today in my dreams and I walked to a blurry window and looked outside and I could not tell what was real and what was just dreams.
I feel we have been told by society that dreams and things that we think are fake and only the tangible world is real.
But dreams and thoughts that we think are more real than anything.
For a half remembered dream was created by you and will stay with you.
Random thoughts repeating.
Repeating.
We are the children of tomorrow birthed from our ******* up insecurities that laugh at us.
Ha ha.

Up above.
Church bells that vibrate with resonance.
Down below.
The solid earth that grapples with the fear of an apocalypse.
Grass that grips and pulls.
Luminous moonlight from my distant dreams pooling from my pores.
This over growth is my home.
Down by the creek,
you'll find me if I am what you seek.
Turning water into wine.
When I close my eyes I know that there is no difference between this land and me.
Break the darkness.
Break the veil.
The green ones with their seeking limbs, filling up the air, filling up the forest deep.
The leaves and twigs that collect in the drifting yellow suns.
As the deer stood high on the cliff a delicate rain of golden tears shed light on solemn hidden faces.
Seeking light on this path of mine.
Dangling dark vines that swing like pendulums collecting lost souls.
Those that do not make it through left to perish,
left to die.
In tomorrow they restart.
High fidelity voices that press insecurity into them like fists in dough.
Repeat.
Repeat.
The voices in their heads.
They're slippin',
trippin'.
Shaking their heads trying settle down the storm of razor blades within.
There is no return from this far off tear filled island.
All that we see.
All that we are
is wandering souls lost in time.

Life is something we can not even define yet it is the very reason that we wake up in the morning.
So many people in this earth and so many caught up this fools chase of money.
They never realize how special every single one of them is because all they've ever known is how to survive and EXIST in a world where nobody will ever warn them of their insanity because they are too busy paying attention how many likes or how many views their last post got.
In every moment you are granted a choice: live or exist.
Maybe wake up from this slumber and start loving the world around you.
Because if life is so important to us the that we fear losing it, then why do we spend our days trapping ourselves in a  game where all we do is exist.

When we were young and beautiful,
We would so gallantly bathe in glorious sunlight.
So that when dawn would break, the black ravans would flutter and float into the dying of the dark like swollen embers from a marmalade campfire.
I can not recall such bliss and happiness.
Seconds go by.
Happiness.
Minutes taken away.
A gratitude for life.
Hours gone by.
Its time to go in.
Days go by.
The moment of bliss slips through our fingers like dusty sand.
Weeks whizzing by.
Taxman coming down on us.
Years torn up like wasted paper.
You are dangling by your neck.
Decades crumbling down like collapsing buildings.
I my elderly self rests in my shallow presense enjoying the antique memories of what a happy life looks like.

I am a time traveling being. A substance of the infinite universe. A multi-dimensional being. A vibration or light, time and space. I see through infinite eyes. With infinite possibilities. All the colors in the universe come together to create something beautiful. I am a creator of what ever I imagine. I am in the matrix so whatever I imagine I can create. Things are just projections of the mind after all.

Taylored pockets fit for the poor.
Fit for helpless men wandering lonely and lost.
To shove away nostalgia.
Incompetent loose bodys trailing willfully into two worlds.
One remembered.
One forgotten.
Spitting dust at winter.
This is Deaths sunset.
But in the end even Death him self will perish.
Buried in bones.
Buried in blood as far as an eye can see.
Swimming in an ocean of ice
That liquidates into darkness.
To create a fallout ocean.

Walking out on open water.
Where I am going I ask my self.
These shattered dreams
sewn through my soul like needle and thread.
A figment of the unknown.
Aware in all directions.
Life is in a rain drop falling from the tips of a sacred tree.
And you and me, we would dance in the rain.
Years flowing by and time after time we would get older and older.
Fall
into the stars.
Open up your heart and see the universe within.
So many colors in the sky.
Somewhere vivid cuts the light.
Beauty leaks from shattered points.
I do not know where I am going but in this place I know I am safe.

A buzzing sound against my ears.
I think I'm dying.
I think I'm crying.
All the things you felt and every breath you took I can feel in my blush.
All that we are
Is a blink in time.
Star bombs blowing up inside of me.
Frame tick tick tock by frame.
These pre-chosen paths reside in me.
I'm thinking about you.
I'm trippin' backwards.
Falling forwards.
Back to you.

Sunlight cups the water wind.
Wisper the cold valley into my head.
Moutain edges cut the horizon for miles and miles.
Wet stone like charcoal
Dipped in Irish green moss
Caught in the ocean mist.
Standing in the icy creek with waterfall water washing at my skin. Light blissfully rests on my closed eye lids.
Feel the ground.
Empathy for the folds in the valley light that crawls along magnificent for infinity.
I can feel the dandelion spores.
They swing on strings and bring the clouds down.
Down.
They pick apart all the clouds until it snows.
Snow silently crystallizes leafless birch trees.
Winter flows in every direction until the creek unfreezes.

Every moment.
Any moment.
Could be that moment.
That last life breath would escape.
And you would fall
And die.
So in this moment of reckoning we stand still.
In the light of a new era
We breathe golden light.
Light pulled down from the heavens above.
We are rooted to the earth.
To the rivers.
To the rocks.
To mountains high.
Golden sacred light flows deep through the energy veins.
It flows through everyone of us causing a great surge of Enlightenment.
An infinite moment of peace for all life and all who dwell on this Blue and green planet.
Long has the fight between light and dark dwindled on the strings of the human race but now
We are free.
Now we stand together.
United we are everything.
The light will break every darkness and will echo through out time and the universe.

Down inside of me something untouchable preludes my grace.
Leaves falling down like Chopin's Nocturne op.9 No. 2.
Through the looking glass a sail boat touches your watery eyes.
Standing by you.
Life is in the vine.
Hues of darkness against the light.
A thousand lifetimes in the flash of your smile.
Swan flight in the open field.
Breathe in and breathe out.
The softness your smile against the cold ice of death.
How does beauty and grace carry on even after death.
Up above in the clouds,
floating down down a creek
till the tree of knowledge is reached.
The tree of all life.
That which yields the ability to choose.

You fall into the worping ground and you melt right through into the other end.
Traveling back in time.
Free falling, you are hurtling with a back clenching force; space time pushing against you.
Shoving you into the never ending abyss.
Intense ringing vibrations are echoed through the tube pressing against the prismic walls bending and warping it to its control.
You hit the bottom.
Time stops.
You never existed.

There is a place between life and death
A place where you can bathe in nebulas and saturate your skin in the dust of the stars.
Where colors consume you.
And angels play medicinal harps.
Rainbow flares and flashs kiss your  eyes.
Sound is felt within every part of your consciousness.
So open your eyes as wide as you can so you can see the universe as it was ment to be.

Till I escape, I am unkown.
Perceived in shattered reflections.
I am the absence of what I think I am.
Falsified reality shows me a series of random fates.
Lucid imagery clouding up my mind.
Stray from empty streets.
The lone wolf in me howling.
Till I break these iron shackles I remain tethered to an artificial world.

Plastic water dripping all over me.
You scream at me and all I do is scream inside.
I collect everything.
Sculpt it.
Shape it.
Make it.
Solidifying while I'm crying.
Sticky gooey insanity contracts me into a wax sculpture.
You just watch me.
Collect my thoughts.
Watch me melt as I burn down like a forest on fire.

Black soot coats the earth as falling bombs in an airstrike wipe us out.
Fallen bodies cluttering broken streets, 1944, the soldiers march through a ****** fog. A city once full of life lay dead and covered in blood. Like graceful synchronized swimmers the soldiers compress the soot with the heels of their boots. The weight of the rifles grows heavier as the march goes on.

HALT!

Solidifying into solid lead. The blue sky whistles bombs like children whistling to lullaby's. One by one they melt into puddles. One by one the black  bombs shred us apart.

Feathery wind blows my hair.
Golden dust collecting at my feet.
Sunlight breaking through at the brink of dawn.
An awesome collusion of colors in the sky.
Ashes free falling all over me.                  
Explosive hearing damage.
I hold my breath and close my eyes.
Fading out into the stars.
Warm water filling up my lungs.
I'm waking up on a beach with you.
There is no time.
Our mortal bodys rest trapped in a car buried in the ocean.
We are infinity.
We are bound to nobody or nothing.
Day after day.
The endless sunrise.

My ears ring like a church choir.
I can not hear my own thoughts.
Every step that I take is like walking through water.
My heart thumps against my chest like a steel hammer.
People all around me;
Their faces hung up on the walls for all of society to look at them.
Their grim faces chasing my eyes like dogs chasing cars.
When I collapse
I will stand back up.
I will not submit to the world.

Tires gripping in the wet.
I am slipping.
Somewhere not here I am waiting for myself.
Tear drops the size of entire oceans rain down.
Can not see past my glass windshield.
Stop.
Break down infrastructure of existence.
The premonition of my future.
The orchestra in me.
There is a dust in the air.
I am slipping.
What ever happened to me.
Resume.
Immediate **** forward.
Off the cliff into the sea a thousand feet below.
I am weightlessly suspended in my golden light memories.
Way up here in the silence, the people down below carrying the weight of their problems.
All my life I have gripped the earth,
felt the power of the tree of life.
Life.
Is powerful and it breathes.
Stop.
A flood of blood pours out of me.
Glass and blood tucks me in forever.

She dreams in yellow waves.
In summer time she wishes that she were asleep than awake.
Eyes shut.
Weightless but not for long.
A shot of blood against the windshield.
She regrows her roots into consciousness at the speed of darkness.
She thinks.
Over contemplating the smell of burnt rubber and musky metal.
She watches her dislocated broken body wash from the ocean cliff into the abyss.

Ashes all around.
The bombs were blasting on the ground.
These city lights dying.
The airplanes in the sky.
Time stood still for a moment.
So you thought you could escape.
So you thought would run
And try to hide.
In the darkness of the night when the moon was bright and the light of dawn was breaking through, did the city collapse.
In the end the only one left was death.
All the faces we passed and all the smiles we shared are blowing around stupidly in the wind.
Heaven only knows
What golden light would peirce the clouds.
Reaching out to the sun
To the above.
We are all just fragmented space colliding amongst each other.

Faces stuck like sticky notes to my face.
Tear drops falling off of my dry iris.
Layers shedding like peeling deseased skin.
Memories washed and chopped.
Boiled and broiled.
I while the world goes deaf cry at the bay of my mind.
A sensation of awkward emptyness collects inside me.
The wind blows around inside of me like a wirl pool.
Spiraling upward and out my mouth.  
I am hallow shell on the bay of my mind watching the never ending sunrise

Twenty four seven.
Bling.
Clock stops.
Phone rings.
I got space cadets dropping like bombs.
Certain smells bring back memories.
Bling bling bling.
Ca-ching ca-ching ca-ching.
Money.
Dollar bills bleeding out of me.
I got a criminal mind.
I never see behind.
I only look ahead.
And I can't remember what I even said.
It seems to me that I'm just heading forward into the future.
Everybody around me stops the clocks as their mind rock on the fine line between fantasy time and reality.
Time goes back.
And the phone rings.
The world goes black.
And I go back to the start.
Twenty four seven.

Close your eyes.
Let your body relax.
Let every tissue, muscle and fiber dilate into the clouds.
Collapse into dust, into the other world, break out from this planet.
Reach out.
Way out there in the middle of nowhere, where nothing even exists, where you will soak in a cosmic bath of star waves.
Where you can drift on cosmic waves of energy then slowly dilate into a more vivid world.

My synthetic sleep catching up with me.
In the darkest hour
all my past and future selves collect into one.
Falling apart.
Piece by piece.
This artificial world, what ever happened to you?
This insomniac world that never goes to sleep.
How did we get here?
Disconnected people polluting the hallow veins of earth.
We think we are free but we are caged in by our highly technologicaly advanced smart phones.
Through out the existence of mankind we have sought to create tools which would further our abilitys to live easier lives but now we have surrendered to our own creation.
Have we become subjected to empty shells or is there still hope?
Somewhere out there is a future world surging with infinite peace.

We are the stars.
The dust of the cosmos.
Our thoughts are the immortal children of a never ending time.
While we burn out like strands of christmas lights our light travels on for infinity reaching (but never touching) the outskirts of the universe.

I found myself against your shirt.
Buryed deep in your grace.
Don't you let go of me.
Your tears smell of sadness.

You pulled away and now I'm sad.
I'm growing up old and mad.
Synthetic smiles
Seen for miles.
I wish I could feel you one last time.
To tell you it would all be fine.

Life is beautiful like the warmth I used to feel between us.
Your a sudden drop from my heart.
I'll try and think of all the happy things we used to do.
Pay attention to the detail.
Certain smell
Texture taste.
The more I remember the more I destort because certain things we did can not be recreated for the pleasure of my mind.

Love.
What is it?
Love is unknown.
Love is powerful.
Love is the solvent
Hate is the solute
Together they create the ultimate  solution.
Love in the end will succeed.
Hate will perish.
Why is something beautiful?
Close your eyes.
Picture a white flower.
Imagine the flower now in a void of nothing.
Now embrace this.
Let the flower become part of you;
Part of your mind,
Your spirit.

Life is passing by a lot faster than I thought.
All my memories seem so far away.
It seemed just yesterday that I was on the train to New York City.
With the phantom lights dimmed down and my guitar in my hand.
Strumming away the days like grey rain raining down cafe jazz.
But now in my cup of coffee is a blurred reflection staring back at me.
All the things that I seen and all things that I have done stored in my memories.
I'm riding in the backseat of a taxi with my face pressed against the window looking out at familiar faces.
Life is passing by a lot faster than I thought.

A angry fire rages on in the corners of my black pupils yeilding it into reflections that shimmer light upon old coffee colored paper like a light house.
My old hands, cracked, and withered like an old crispy flower lay upon my tan paper, vibrations consume my hands.
There in my head is a river called creativity and it is where I get my power.
In the dead of dawn there glows a  golden ray of sun filling my sweat beads lodged between the wrinkles on my face.
My pen is alive as I am too.
I do not write.
My pen does
And the universe tells it what to do.