Rust on the throat bone
Unsheathes the summoning cry
For this ill omen
When the moon is so close and the light so sick
It is as if the earth is trying to whisper to it in hospice
A faucet leaking off the knuckles of a weakling
A testament to that inherit the meek thing
Echoes in the dark throughout the hillside
Attentive beasts break to stand on hind legs
Inverted towers all shake the owners from the windows
The emperor bows to the beggar
Death barks and begs
Close as the world will ever get to Luna
Seas crash to show sadness with the petulant expulsion of grief
Oceans roar and storms wash away centuries to great forebearer's relief
All salt in the water will wash away
Take time for the eroding spirit tied to the beach today
While these elements wear the skin out and down with each appearance
Driving the illusory blind meat believer mad
Take solace in the slaughterhouse line
Animals all meant for one barrel of trimmings
Set to make the same compost when the razor beneath starts to grind
Let the tier drops splash the surface above
And all those on the precipice of the Luna seas be crushed by their sadness
Take with you a balled up fist inside the chest and air of bitterness and go forth into an indifferent space
Let us put an end to this.

Discomfort with ambiguity
the theme of closure
here's a hard life lesson:
complex moral grey areas in the court of public opinion
are tried and convicted with such absolute certainty
that opinion runs into a spear-wall on the thought-crime of double-jeopardy
pariahs afraid to speak, seeming to appear flimsy with flip-floppery
when in fact, what can anybody know without being there, themself
this highfalutin sentencing, rent-free living in the shoes of the accused
and never taking a step outside, pay the dues, it's all a form of legal fee
today everybody is such an expert, information at the fingertips like Mercury
with the thunderbolts, bring lightning flashes, what's okay to think according to
whoever spends their time with me, awaiting approval Orwell, all's well that ends
take these foul-hearted to learn Love from the Ministry of, the greatest weapon of mind control
has never been hands-on the brain, there was a dissertation, novelization in '48 that explained it pretty perfectly
what we create can exact a toll steeper than 2 minute's hate, we police each other to greater expectations
set forth by creations always beneath the powers that be, imprisoned within these comforting confines
accepted, that inmates on the road are escaping crazies, this is sanctuary, our beloved Big Brother blinks and dreams up the inescapable- society.

Discomfort with ambiguity
the theme of closure
here's a hard life lesson:
the Pyramids weren't designed or built by cryptids
desperation for grand designs
Stone Henge credited to alien hominids
crossing the divining lines separating man's minds
from imagining human kind capable, and inescapable
reliable and just lie, re-lie, deceitful and deceivable
great apes, savage, and unnoble, creationist crops
ripe and now grim reapable, ****** slider switch hits
the oozing of faith, confidence and humanity feels seepable
no human accomplishment is keepable, on a potter's field for all history
the blueprint of unfollowable chaos randomly defined a grand design, is sleepable
there, ignore, snoring minds, theories strictly confined the outer possibilities
orbiting the thin air, small grey planets choked in binds, rock belts on too tight
it's as simple as the biblical angel or the unknowable terror that breaks the fabric of reality
an alien, with no context or understanding, nothing to draw from our own civilization applies
there is no fathomable way to anticipate contact or the endless anxieties
nothing to predicate how, if, we might communicate
it's a topic of marketable thought sold, undermining even the atrocities
slavery and brick layers longest days because it's more fun to think about
with a PHD, than lecture on practicality applied to those degrees,
there's certainly a more pragmatic audience for it; the enticing unknown
holds meaning, planetarily.

All your gold can buy the world
if you divvy it up and pass it out to everyone
within this generation the concept of poverty
would dissipate as does volcanic gas
this endlessly desirable fantasy
let in a djinn overnight; all the wishes granted
no problem, happily ever after marriage of morality
mortality, meaning suckling at the matriarchal dependency
on vapid materialism, provide insipid commentary
insert ownership over what you work for
earned, ignore the desperation of hunger
if you're born rich do you ever fear that you'll die poor?

If you're born poor it's this disadvantage, locked windows
closed doors, a drawn line, below those who have more
frowned upon for clawing, illegality in relief, margins in these textbooks
statistics washed away cleansed suspension of disbelief
invisibility, hide their faces to hide from the blame of the broken grief
harder to face is that if everyone had a check for a billion dollars
feeling like the flame tongue burned its mouth in biting off more than it could chew
accounting for those who don't cash in, money would cease to mean anything
the powers that be would either stop it to save the global economy
and call for crisis, reflection, as great tyrannical wings within us all unfold
all-consuming, there is one universal pain every living thing has known
that is how it feels to be cold, to be hungry, to be unclean, judged by status
outcast and made alone, in theory understood that everything can be lost
when the hoard goes out, shining coins incite a revolutionary vision in ignited eyes
that vibrate, quivering excite, inhuman shiver, silver sparkling in the night
all institutions get topsy, turvy, tossed, Saturnalian days until the end of days

There is nothing to be ashamed of, nothing to envy
hatred is so easily assigned to flaunting fools for their behavior
whose importance is overinflated with their egos, in turn their stocks rise and fall
the chest of the dragon as it sleeps, all of us a dream, let them be
controlled, the prayers long whispered, cried, muttered, otherwise uttered to the stars
the heavens and the so-called Stars, is all revealing of the wishful nature
true power is all mankind under these wings of gold
being as at peace as one kind man, unbothered, unburdened, unfettered by the definition of health, a rat, clinging to the foot of a hanging dead ideal, consumerism, capitalism, communism, perfect Marxism; the hoarding of wealth.

Clench, intensity in the intestines
guts in knots, over a rainbow bridge the pale unicorn trots
reins in the hand of a sandalled wanderer, the prism of life;
the meaning behind light fades, Relief the Grim Savior waves
under the pressure, tightening, interdimensional rift a fist grips the heartstrings
playing this improv solo, it's so frightening, blink without looking
that chemical smell, all too familiar, it's like home cooking
on the brink, don't shake, let it play out, steady now
strumming arterial chords, lungs starting to quake
it's the chorus line coming in to the arhythm of panic
a scope lifted away, laid down and changed that quick
what's gone is yesterday, in those seconds of eternity
a baptism of anxiety, regret rushes the stage, the vocalist comes in
"Oh dear God in Heaven they're burning me!"
with a discordant pluck everything could go amuck, awry, lending permanence to this guest
that crept in, adrenaline, second guessing at a time like this? Even some soldiers are made of tin
even holy men commit atrocities of sin, even in the dictionary it's just a word no matter how it looks: perfection
in that murky limbo, where the mind transcends and the soul will go, there's no bar
no high road, but somehow always feeling watched, always know, in another multiverse entirely, but never an inch too far
completely stunned, Death holding the reins as it guides this past life over the rainbow
that forms beneath its feet where it walks across the cosmos, black robes, white bones, Christlike in presence
when the time comes, there's no sadism in the streak, the reaping of the dream, realizing the surrounding
it's beauty resounding, the way love would feel if it could walk in pure merciful empathy, silently among us
the force that is antithetical is equally beautiful to its opposite, in every way, it gives meaning to seeing to never knowing what the last sight could be
without a sickle or a scythe, only a hand to hold as we walked and talked about what was on the other side of visible light
the sky fell back into place, focused and faced the North Star that blunk back slowly, blearily into a blurry existence
a dog rose arisen with unburdened eyes,
a snake shed a skin of lies, a wanderer collapsed in the future road of why's
this is a step toward change, now that it's real everything feels strange
which comes as no surprise.

Sadness is the color of understanding
empathy bores an endless path
at first piercing and ideal, like a flaming arrow
fired into a gelatinous body, it slows
over years and the path before it
twists around realism
a snake wrapped around the heart
in a Gordian Knot, swallowing its own tail
acceptance, defeat, purity
the ideals become gritty
stained with a lens of knowledge
that ultimate, itself, is too perfect to be a trait
grounded in something obtainable, soulless ice reflects
the neglectful capabilities behind the intellect, acknowledging
that meta-metamorphosis that no one is so great
idols are a poisonous cure to this toxic fantasy
the new religious ****** crisis, celebrity in flesh
appreciation, fame, ingratiation, talent and skill
rising above means and station, status and still,
flourishing compassion, a flower bloom on fire
extinguished before it causes trouble, curling lips
biting, the ice manifested on the road oft traveled to mayhem kills
mischief belays this idea, good natured, good intentions
if only, shortcuts through the thicket, frustrations
manipulations, tollbooths rise upon this road,
one a hike by barefoot, through thorn, bramble and gravel
the other all nice blacktop, long and wide, hot and fresh asphalt
progress seems faster, every booth demands more and every exit passed
is farther from the last
while the work it takes to travel the other road, is all the same distance
in all the same time, just harder, what is done to cross a creek leaves a sense
of fulfilled accomplishment
where what is done to get down to the street lives in the past tense
as everything is taken by the inch and replaced with resentment
while everything gained by the mile is unforgettable, unregrettable
to expire on the road is to give everything to a thief within, becoming too tired
to live in these woods, these words, this world is to see truth and find contentment.

Mine eyes have beheld a wanderer, whose ragged breath had left
beneath a beating star, hotter than all the blood behind their heart
and they were haggard, lost in the latter years of a bitter and angry life
that they often contemplated the benefits of living against themself,
for those that wanted them around, their blistered and raw feet
torn to shreds from many miles stripped of skin inch by inch on the ground
learned lessons in lamentation, far too hard headed to relent their suffering
in silence, even wailing to the world, to deaf ears and numb touch
they let birds fly away with beaks full of their flesh, fresh off their back
for that was repentance in their mind, to feed the bugs that crawled up
asking for a meal, in this dire, final hour, let the roadkill return a penance
a buffet for the hungry, this was not too much, theirs was a shared road
they were the only ones who cared, their reasoning was such,
for a helping hand so often had bitten hunks out of this skeleton
now eroding on the road, whose tears were little more than glistening salt
in the sand, dry as its motivations, to deny itself while continuing in misery
a path it knew would end in complete isolation,
a blink and these eyes withdrew the vision, shuffling feet away
the promise of change is always before, and empty until fulfilled
as the spires of a lonely city called Alienation, dare the mouth to say
"I will not follow the footsteps of my future-self, I will change today."

The thing of pathology and roads,
there is a demon named ******,
who exists to lead us astray
ideally, in your world of empathy  
who can resist a stray?

High powered cancer cells keep the phantoms running
across the long table sharks that have stopped swimming
lazily gathering schools of fish that sit on their teeth for roll call
attendance is ecstasy, blood floods the senses and those eyes
as soon as they smell it, that's all they see, every meal a feast
every night an ****, delighting in the prey never knowing
never thinking, there's a killer in an empty suit standing next to me
wining and dining with the enemy, see notes for stacks of C-notes
drones churned out of pressurized trenches with condescending tones
sinking while looking down at the surface, forsaking basic humanity
collapse on your knees, don't ***** a fingernail in the coffin to extend a simple pleasantry
it's high time that you people respect my time, which is what the clock is set to
all these teeth make it hard to sneer at you, these evolved fish eyes can see that you're upset, too
primordial origins ooze forth in the imposter syndrome complex's original sinner's skin
greed, the need to cut the sacrificial lamb's throat, sup of the blood and find
there isn't enough so shepherd more, do it again, and then
the sun itself revolves around this table because I sat down at it!
That's the outcome of the scenario, no matter how you divvy it up,
it's just basic mathematics!
Disturbingly becoming human, equating to weak by the end, fists pounding the table
smirking with frustration, like a dog smiling and dancing on two legs for its food
screaming and wailing in place of a collected bark, a normal whine, taking place in the mind
shocked to see its own fingers it recoils at its visage into stunned silence
no matter where we go, these memories will never let us be
the things that think they have depth because they adapted to the deep
to serve their own ego, alas, there are many more fish in the sea.