You should be here with me
Living inside a whisper
Meditating, We could become a single cloud of consciousness
You should be here with me
Sitting on a smile
Laughing together in a huggggg
Riding an electrical stream of hopeful wishes
Instead i live in a box full of mirrors
Instead I'm creating illusions
Instead I'm in a state of confusion

I find Madness to be much like a mental resin.
A volatile sickness, that sits on the cusp of belligerence.  
Provocateur,
such vehemence merits the title of an artist.
The beast in its own way stands for a peculiar beauty.
Spinning its spokes,
i have seen an author at play, combing the labs of creativity,
seeking solace, and reason in this sort misadventure.

kicking my feet back & forth in the water
i wonder
Observing such cartoon characteristics,
should this traveler of realms be judged by a moral higher-arch?
Should it not be allowed to play its lute?
As long as no pain and suffering is wrought on our fellow beings?

Bringer of ideas, bound by no line of chalk.
the hurt that troubles you, will sadly be forgot.
in the arms of a fool, society stinks like a public pool.
So carry on your freedom, without care of any those whose only job is to inevitably drool.

Forests of stone, glass and light.
The truth cries out in the night.
Dearest oatmeal, Sometimes we fail to be whom we need to be.
Sometimes trepidation assumes form and takes judgment.
I need you to ASK yourself,
Can I trust this voice?

Discover the self,
And feel for what you say,
Does it strengthen my position or fragment it?

This world full of thunder,
Awaits someone more than you.
Someone outside the domain of opaque
Predispositions.
Someone ready to tender, and accept the world for its stench, and will enough the courage to make it better.

This feeling,
Is a whisper crawling out me.
An echo made by a stranger underneath my skin.
A tiny yearning that bubbles up,
as  a set of continuous chortles.
My heart beats,
and I give into phantasm.

The Crimson sun that never sets,
The moon that bathes and overthrows us with all of its beauty.
The ocean breeze and it's cool attempt,
The delicate,
fleeting,
goddess silhouette.

Transference is inevitable.
A flower that grows in between the dead cold moss.
A small hope cradled as a warm stone.
A kindness born through some invocation,
some attempt to make sense of our place in this world.
Its a prayer, a distance seen in your eyes,
A doubt formed in the mind,
by the brief rejection of a potential lover.

We are the esculent,
made ready to be consumed by the love of another.
We are a breath, held on by the hands of a good friend.
A flame stoked,
Gently in the night.
We are, we are,
weight (significant).

The truth is there is no center
no alignment of spirit & body
just a vehicle  full of bubbles(thoughts).
Apologies in advance
a bubble pops and with it our sense of free will.

we Carry us
through disappointment
we Carry us
through the frigid harbors of loneliness
we Carry us
and find the strength to bury the depression that amassed over this past winter solstice

oh my heart, heavy as a stone
there it goes, bleeding all alone
i hold it up high
wondering
if today will be the day i die
knowing
that i won't

As a master of my own domain
the fire in my gut burns heavy with flames

We Carry us
With the love of life, buried deep inside of us.

On the ground dead
Half buried, arm sticking out
Abandoned and left with a lily
A ceremony long finished
People just passing through
A sequence of prayers
Long dried up and floating into the ether

Winters almost gone
Duplicity is just about melted
The sun is helping the rot
And what's left of the body
Is bordering near dust