And so now, I know.
When the blood boils,
when the village burns...
It shall resolve itself to the empty.
The taste of crystal still sits,
Kingly, between teeth,
A god's throne.
Part of me would weep,
But I smile still, now knowing
that there is only us.
There is only all of it,
all the world in its shifting
hullabaloo.
And what has been,
will be.

How many times has it been,
that I've thought, "Should I say 'I love you?'"
but held my tongue.
I think there is fear there, behind my eyes,
Because when you tell someone you've kissed,
"I love you,"
the words grow wings, and claws.
They grab at the heartstrings,
and pull at arteries.
But it's nice, the loopy feeling,
of love, of blood loss, of life.

Gilead, oh Gilead,
every moment with you is a thrillead.
Roll up a dollar billead,
we'll snort lines till we've had our fillead.
And when the sky begins to spillead,
from the acid we've distilledead,
Go to the spot and we'll refillead,
with vibes at the spot when we chillead.

When the world bent,
and I was moved to sit for a moment
and weep, for all my sickness,
you were there.
And when the wind howled,
and I heard it shouting my name,
the rain pelted us, but I laughed,
for you were there.
And now, home,
When I need to smile,
I can walk down the stairs,
open the door,
and you'll be there.

Hovering between two unstoppable forces,
I am frozen in time. In just a moment,
my atoms will be scattered. I can feel the distortion,
and I can smell my blood, and suddenly,
it is over. For an instant, my feeble consciousness pulses in the
moment of oblivion.
It is torn to shreds, and blossoms into an infinite garden.

And as the sun sets on the left,
and rises on the right,
A false idol is worshiped,
And the brothers rejoice.

Sometimes, the meaning behind words
doesn't reveal itself to you
until it's already too late. You look
at a past version of yourself, unable to change
the words they're about to say,
that you said.
But it's okay. Because you can always say words.
newer, more perfect words,
today.

"You look like me,"
you said, not knowing how true it was.
Still, the words flow with you
erratic, unstoppable,
beside me.
When the light shifts,
and the ego dies,
I see you there, and I smile,
in awe of our art.

Not all are as me; a rope into the cave of the mind,
and a connoisseur of the pleasure in surrender.
Most are too afraid,
of all the broken things they'll find
in there; littered with dust, older than the room that it lays in.
But I too am afraid.
But it is not the undulating of neon kamis,
or the whispers of wind
that I fear.
It is the knife in the dark, unseen by the first nor the third,
until it is already too late.

Where the trees clear, and the flowers rule,
Come with me baby, don't be cruel,
I want to be alone with you,
Alone beneath the sunny blue.
And when the stars tear through the dark,
Look in my eyes and light a spark,
Darling you give me the crazies,
I'm spinning, dancing, on the daisies.

Love is no longer a question of appearances.
It dwells in me now, and
slowly inflates, like a balloon filling with blood.
The passions of a dead man pulse through
blue veins. But love is not a one-way street;
still, how could one fall out of love?
My third eye is shut,
but I dream of you.
Remember how the ground lit up beneath our feet?
I cannot forget two souls intertwined,
and glowing beneath countless stars...

My body is formed
With the genes of the old tribe.
Long may they prosper

I breathe love through my lungs,
where she lives,
in the Olivialvioli.
Sometimes,
she squeezes, and I bleed faster.
"I'm not bleeding," I say.
There is no feeling in my fingers.
Part of me knows I am going to die,
but I'm too afraid to breathe in.

The pattern is the pattern is the pattern is the pattern.
The universe will give you messages, transcending time and space.
You must learn faith; trust in the universe and it will trust in you.
You are master of none, but a slave to no-one and to nothing.

Concrete and steel,
Struggle and claw at the soil;
yet,there is no hope for the sons of man.
For their grandmother,
and Time herself,
are against them.

And so, despite every attempt on my part to avoid it,
circumstance has stolen sunny San Diego from me.
A simple life has humbled me with love,
and I am once again confronted with another summer of changes.
Drifting away from a God's body,
I discover the holiest of grails between the ears and eyes.
Soon, I will be uprooted,
and twice the heartbreak, that of loving doubly, will make my soil barren.
I will absolve all my regrets,
knowing I acted righteously, with neither anger nor avarice.
My body is my mind, and I am my-
self. I will master them all.

There once was a husband named Tuck,
a lazy man, truly a schmuck,
His wife knows he's a ****,
but smiles coming from work,
Cuz he spent college learning to ****.

There is something innate,
stirring,
when I look into the light.
It is, as the whisper of a spirit,
with neither form nor sound,
an invisible fly, beating at the eardrum
of humanity,
and its music moves us like no other.
And I look into the lights of the lecture hall,
and tears melt from icicles behind eyes,
and I whisper to nobody, "I surrender."

The eagle sits above the rafters,
Watching the comings and goings
of the dead.
The dragon growls silently below,
poised for action
that will never come.
And I sit below them both,
noting the things
nobody else would bother with.

Daylight rises on a foreign sky,
and night descends within my weary mind.
This ****** jet lag eats away at me,
To Father Time's "*******" I am resigned.

Love is of the divine;
it persists where its origin dies,
and it is absolute,
singular,
for it is love.
It can be a short lived romance,
or a moment of affection for a passing stranger,
or a hug from a long lost friend
but love will always find you.
It will whisper your name on the wind,
and it is in the embrace of an incoming wave,
and high above us,
in the clouds,
where a caricatured mouse
waves down to you,
before dissolving back to mist.