O my desolate being,
Make me solid matter!
Cease my consciousness
Into pieces I will shatter.

This sense of torment
So painful so unbearable,
This human life only hurts
Creating unlimited trouble.

If I become hilarious,
Grief starts stepping,
Tears fill my eyes as if
Life is only for weeping.

O sands of Time,
Make me particle!
I can't bear this burden of life
It's a cage, an ornamental buckle.

Tim Leary and Lenny Bruce
met one Saturday turning on to the pike so they tuned in to the parking lot of Purgatory's Bar and Grill and decided to drop out for the afternoon .

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

all the problems seem so real
wish them all to disappear
another arise as soon as one dies
shapeshifting, reappearing

energy flows through all that is material
we weren’t meant to be shielded
from the ethereal
                                  realms
subconscious at the helms
wake up
to the tales that we make up
to save ourselves
from more heart break up

yet the heart breaks and recreates
what’s meant to stay does
just not at your will
not yet
not until you be still
change the energy you instill
it’s ok to let go
over flow
spill over
still return
to stillness and order
meditation hard but not really
just sit harder

my perception of reality is fiction
narratives told to rationalize all the friction  
patterns and thoughts like personality addiction
need a detox
engrained in reactions to past affliction
suffering in stories of my own limited depiction
until i see that stories can be
rewritten in my own rendition
defenses, distractions, unconscious reactions
shelter the heart
from the insufferable pain of the conscious condition
but somebody’s gotta do it  
                   haha
and get through it
and get through
to those who have not seen through
or want to
circumstance and condition
all microphones for our voice
nobody gonna force it
that’s your choice
to lift the veil and peer through
in the mirror
what looks back at you
do you see you right through
no? then step right through
into a living world that’s a reflection of you

it’s not all meant to make sense
not all at once
just lower your defenses
instead of pronouns change your tenses
to i am / here now

clinging to the past leaves you feeling like a clown
don’t get me wrong i’ve been down to clown
round town
had my highs and downs
but guilt and shame so binding
confining
me in moments and times of which i’m not proud
but for which i had to learn
to make forgiveness allowed

feeling may not be appealing
but it’s the only path to healing
just making the consequences of feeling appealing again

if i did
what i did
to another person
they'd call it torture

but because its my self
they call it mental illness  
too bad my body can't tell the difference

nervous system confused
from being abused

just got caught off guard
making it this far