After three days of solitude,
I confronted you
in the ruins of the house we tore down together,
We held each other in our broken dreams,
your head was still bleeding from the accident,
you said, I dont want to die here,
and let yr fingers slip down yr throat,
and let the bile come out,
We held again in the pool of tears,
we had been saving in random bottles over the years.
you whispered how everything was changing,
falling apart, all the friends moving on,
all the backgrounds changing,
and how much it hurt,
and how much it was needed,
How we are just kids
trying to find our place,
I said I love you
and you echoed back

mouth syncing up digital brain,
electrically bounding the physical
with the ethereal analog bond
bound up and wrapped,
in fiber optic blankets,
secrets passing layer to layer
heard only by quadraphonic
receivers echoing out
into a singularity of conciseness,
confirmed by units of two

Lock your children in pens,
Like the dogs we've bred,
Domestication depends,
on how youre fed.

Eat your brains for kings pleasure,
While snacking your soul on ancient lore,
find the meanings twice and you die,
running on borrowed time,
to weave the web of lies
hidden plainly on layer of skin,
I slowly peel off and savor,
as you deconstruct my walls,
building a home out of the rubble,
to hid away from glances,
lancing through tired eyes,
perpetually trapped in the hills,
which never see beyond,
the painted black highways,
our galaxies ellipses through,
and occasionally super colliding

I barely see your face,
opaqued behind the mirror
the white washed wall
the house I've grown to hate
the expressions only come up
in out dated slang
spoken to a keep a tired joke
still relevant in the days of robots
and comet cosmic collapse

I am peeling the paint off yr walls,
while you tear down the walls I've built,
between me and the foreign nations,
that have surrounded me in the past,
they are gone now, but I linger onwards,
later i see the universe flash,
and collapse into an infinitesimal point,
and the point fades,
fades back into you, and the wall,
yell till my vocal chords break
yell till the blood comes up
yell till i'm gone
you've added another layer

Flesh folded until untangibly recognized
as the same being it was violently ripped
like thunder from the clouds
as ephemeral mountains in the sky,
mark the moments of now,
while the sun shines through past lives,
just now reaching us,
millions of changes later,
I am hear, you are deaf,
hooking lines, sinking lore,
silencing flashing of rain,
on the off chance one might pain.

Ceaselessly we toss,
And turn,
Groping through,
Covers covered,
Under uncovered pages,
Step closer,
To a nonexistent end,
Where the same,
stories are told,
By the same prophets,
Who wrote our epitaphs,
When we came to be,
Endless pages waiting,
To be fated,
Like fairy tales.

slur your words,
as bottles pile onto bottles,
and the dreams you love,
have come to haunt me,
glowing orb,
orbiting around you,
keeping you away from the storm,
that pours from your mother's eyes,
about how her two lovers have died,
Her wailing drowned out,
over the buzzing beating plastic world,
created by by gones gone by,
of the greatest generation,
who died to produce,
the cubical living room,
we use to be gods,
on our virtual battle ground,
where we now stand,
face to face,
I stand with solidarity,
with your mother's loss,
climb into the life raft,
before the storm gets you,
and you drown in your flood gates,
that have rotten with filth,
you freely dump into your mind

multi pathed train tracked,
derailed by increasing amounts,
of defulfillment in full bottles and cigs,
longing to whisper secrets,
into a familiar set of ears,
eyeing up the next thrill,
stuck strong in shadows,
past demons, seeking out,
a new target,
a corpse possessing form,
that has been declared as my body,
posses at the mirror,
filled with whitewashed emotions,
and a longing at how everything is colder,
when you aren't around.

everyone has been dreaming it seems,
except for me, i've just been in space
between the ax chop
and the executioner
who might know more about
the dynamics of power
than me
the blood moon stares at me
taunting me with kindness
reflections of fire chariots
burning out life
through detuning fibers
vibrating and pulsing
to every ding i get
green pulsations of contact
swimming through sea sides
and cyanide highways
to a ephemeral smog
utter through yr lips
and fisher cat cries
flying through night time silences
where the lack of words
separates truth from
the lies of the tongue

Smoke peering over the mountain peak,
the mornings here you can smell the trees,
screaming with heat of human passion wildfires,
its bright out, but the moon is hidden,
behind a grey veil that sees through the heavens,
its almost no different than city lights,
*
I found my favorite spot in the world,
shooting stars passby it all night,
and the water is deep,
everyone needs to get close to stay warm,
and the moon falls between two peaks,
and the two peaks are triangulated between two trees,
everyone in the town nearby says how much they hate it,
and how trapped they feel.
*
once i found my passion,
my drive,
but that seems to have faded now,
or maybe I've just become more focused on myself,
replaced the void that others filled,
by building bridges to new muscles and movements
in my body, and in my mind,
deadnames come back around when you least expect it,
and I still feel detached from this vessel,
I manifest and control,
sometimes you think you've got something figured out,
but every free moment you have, goes
to that inner corner
you keep dusting, but can never straighten out.

darting eyes behind ten year old screens,
hiding indirectly in directing slights of hand
as if confronting demons would ****
self worthlessness of purposefulness
and destroys the steam of e,
while everything crashes,
to the infinite, singularity of everything
that is in each note spoken out
and sweetly sung out of the universe
seen right in front of me

Your eyes are the sky
And your mouth is the sea,
I'm the earth,
Longing to get drowned,
So my roots can touch the sky.

the universal symphony of creaking
chairs echoing with crickets
in the domain of body shaking
each high beam, a passing star
waiting to explode
on steely yellow lines
battles with hard cold
warm air, actually real,
how every story is the same,
with a slightly different
authoritarian directive,
to observe, and sometimes,
harm the feminine cry of *******,
and climb the stair case.

Bane of gasping gentle breath,
Wide eyed searching for car crashed trees,
Crying over mountain peaking,
Peaking out over life times of achieve,
Timid rabbit darting emoticons,
That aren't disguised as suits,
Emailing faults of profiled skin,
Obsoleted by obsessivenessly,
Picking at unreachable kills,
Wasting away from sunny sleep,
While in the background,
The TV play that one movie,
Where everyone dies,
On repeat.

shaking phone call over discombobulated voices,
astroprojecting vocalizations through times pace,
my body wants to time travel to you,
through the regret free policy
has generated some regret
when smoked lungs need removal
so the chained spirit
can be unbinded
navigating through carcingentic fogs,
housing warming warning waning ways
downloading the feeling
well a copy of them,
similar to the copy of god
glanced at in the trees,
similar to the copy of god
hanging around my dinar table,
and i can't find the file
in the cobwebs of facts
containing previous knowledge
literalizing textureal distructions
of dreaming an alternative
where we could still be friends

i wrote down lies
so i could speak them
as truths
while magick screamed
through the walls
with antique blood rites
reinvented through water heaters
hissing prayers to silent talks with god
and illuminated sounds of light
catching my lie
between the foam ceiling
and disrespected sound waves

Blank slate half ruined by half finished
Half assed means of escaping my head,
Inciting riots to flush out my rotting brain,
Brambling through the same old tired
Chords that pull at my heart strings
Telling universal secrets to deaf ears,
Choosing to ignore the existence of other,
Zombified brains ignoring the plea,
To head to the hills,
where circular motions patterned
Mosics over shirts
Shrieking softly, about how everything
Revolves around you
and your mastery of dark arts
Used to hide in plain sight,
The pain truth about how all you need is
Your bare hands to improve,
By means of self strangulation
Of your mouth to limit
One line from summing out,
Past demons you lie about

even as the sinners were dying they called out
oh my god oh my god
still selfish enough to call out
this my possession
as we lay dying,
killing parts of ourselves daily,
putting beliefs in fascist solar cycles,
in clusters of 11 they assist our changes,
opposition of sides, faces clenched
as galaxies of desires attract different fates,
each a part of the powers that be meta-referencing,
the global system interconnected,
to the struggle of beings intertwining tendrils,
drilling for information of diversity,
that they are not alone
but we lost all that when we switched,
roman rulers dictating the change
from the geocentric
to the solar centric,
yet going back solves nothings,
but being forced to relived past mistakes,
and learn what living with fewer emotions is like,

we spilled blood in graves
occupying the space
a dweller such as I
lies poised in shadowplay
illuminated by only
in sunbeams reflected
into moonbeams
and luminous hermit eyes
blue, pale, and glowing
staring at me
pure iris cradling
dark iris
our eyes say everything
and we sit
explaining everything through
the motionless mouth,
we are children
fascinated joints exploring
new nooks,
and a comforting strangness
through blood ******* normality
and newness of a place
is a technicolor lens,
and our eyes pierce
through the verbal realm

We drink our coffee in silence.
Reminding each other of the past
And planning for a future of distance

"I love it there, but I could never live there. My ex lives there." She says as drags a cigarette.
Lights in NYC are blinding, can't tell any of them apart.
$22 dollars to see a friend. He whispers from the dark and catches you off guard from behind a barred gate.
He lives with the dogs now.
Drive through the night,
To a new place you've been calling your home. Though, you've never been. Just seen a post card here and there. A notion that your supposed to be there and not here.
The fog lifts through rolling hills. The fall is so much colder, but so much more alive. Reds, oranges and yellows permeating through grey veils.
Arrive in a new home, its a lot like your other ones. At last you understand.

"This bed smells like a lot of people."
She says with an exasperated flop onto her bed, which has been scheming about giving people nightmares.
it has so far succeeded.
Perhaps its previous owner had taught it good christian values.
this current occupier had abandoned hers years ago,
when they chose to start living.
But now everything is who was,
who was the lover she could never get over,
who had brought them the most gifts,
and who had stayed.