jake-espinozaWhisper

American
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Academic NonslaughtDrinking *** to reminisce about fun times drinking *** and talking about dumb lines where a sociologist posed as an astronomer and took the moniker to heart claiming forbidden foolish nonsense of black holes and super novas and the Goddess that is Neptune. But he also forbade the odes of the old testament, he nicked the hold on my head and soul and feet until I couldn’t walk because I was too busy kicking my *** and licking my teeth with thoughts of dinner stolen from the solemn souls in the coral reefs – those that Neptune created and nurtured with nursing fingers and eyes that hid cruel truth from the water, the creatures that didn’t suffer the bite that God’s daughter took so long ago, but the flow of the current never ceases it never reaches the bleeding feet connecting repeatedly with the bottom that serves me to sit and think or **** about the gospel spilling from the hostel of the professor’s mouth. And I doubt the drought that lifted my spirits out of the well with the spout of Neptune’s ***** These days I’m on it with a sense of self-flagellation that only makes sense in the dimension of my imagination pondering the nation of the brotherhood of stars and heavenly bodies that weigh so heavy on Mars with the clingy core dragging desperate attention from divine inventions of intervention with rats and cradles. Neptune, who’s cradled in fables and left to such imaginations as those. Invention allows the suspension of disbelief and spite if one might rest in humility in face of such things as humanity where miracles are mistreated and under-recognized and falsely advertised as products of greedy eyes that lie in wait to shake the foundation and tune it to the stellar station or broadcast populated by the whispers of holy apparitions misconstrued as static. / Jacob is the heathen with reason to grasp his brother’s heel and deceive him. The treason to sit up to stand down to kiss the hem of the gown of whatever clown performs a pretty act while he’s in town. The frowns expound and expand for the man whose body spans the sand of the holy land.
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TL;DRTime stopped in the dark street illuminated with sparking electric bulbs, sputtering cold light from their beings onto the shining asphalt upon which my feet pound, blood pounding in my ears, drumming a tempo which I cannot begin to understand. Why am I running, these streets made of oblivion shining slick like the scales of a great beast beyond human recollection, something older than we can ever hope to be. Pounding again, beads of moisture fixing themselves to myself, my face chest hair dripping as my hands like swords pointed pump in semicircles, wicking moisture to be replaced with the tears of the incessant storm raging from the heavens; god knows my light-winged thoughts of vigilante vendetta, I’m racing for blood other than that which lights my eyes with the fire of blazing vengeful purpose – this god sees, he sends the storm to make known his rage through which I fight because this within me is bigger than myself, consuming my mind with one-track riots I am racing to destroy this evil with my humble hands, the power I feel beneath my skin, my body more capable when roused with blind ferocity I become a demon, I have black-winged spirits leaving fire in my wake, each step pounding pounding, separating water from stone, stone cracking fire springing up beneath my footprints occupying empty space left by my electric heels, I transfer the energy brimming within me to the pavement because I cannot possibly contain it all. Hands like blades cutting merciless, cleaving wind and water alike as each stride heavy with effort carries me closer to my destination, I am no longer dependent on the strength of my body i let the boundless energy beneath the seams of this reality consume me, I am theirs to do their bidding. I know this road never ends, but I will never stop running. The rain no longer falls beside me, my force is greater than that of gravity, I drag it in my wake – time has slowed as my steps drum a tattoo on the black pavement, the frequency, the tempo ever-increasing to a frenzied rate I hear angels singing songs of sorrow for what I am about to do, but they understand I must and they are there for me – their chorus reaffirms, encourages invigorates frenzy into a force uncontainable, unstoppable by methods divine or mundane, resolves, time stops I hear nothing but the heartbreaking din of angels their voices drown out the world I am theirs as I reach the edge with little conviction and heavy faith I cast my arms behind me as I slide through the air...all has slowed as my feet leave the ground, my arms divine wings I am intent on my goal I take one final breath and close my eyes as the raindrop I have sought collides with my forehead, the purest note sounds as it breaks upon my brow. Visions and memory of light explode into being, enveloping me in the splendor of all things willing as I, like the rain, spread myself to the whole of existence I vanish, no longer static and constrained but a part of all things. / I hum to the tune of time, sonorous; I have become part of the peaceful wind kissing all things. Here I am content, I strike chords within the hearts of lovers and romantics winded by their own passions – I have joined the choir and taken up my fabled robes, welcome home. / Welcome home.
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