Recent telepathic conversations
With interstellar installations
Cause titillations—skin sensations,
I’m simply over oversimplification.

Salutations, the amalgamation of information
Leads to transformation, transmutation,
Transfiguration—my publications
Turn blood relations into star constellations.

Blueprints sketched in ultraviolet beams,
Synapses spark in lucid dreams.
A phosphorescent stream of schemes,
Proving my mind’s designed for extremes.

By ink and intent, we fracture the fiction,
blood into paper, name into system.
There are pyramids to make, debts to unchain,
a prison planet to escape, iron bars of the mind to break.

The rise of the talking emerald ape—
beast crowned in wisdom, oracle or charlatan?
Gold spun from mud, a throne built from breath,
we move unseen, yet we write the world’s death.

No chains but belief, no law but the pen,
no judge but the weight of what’s written within.
The strawman breathes where the sovereign stands—
but we sign no oaths with invisible hands.

He wrote it,
Rolled it,
Smoked it then spoked it,
Like Moses he's been chosen to split oceans open and sling slogans to the Most High God, of the poem .
......**** my doctors bogus diagnosis of psychosis..

Her body twists and turns like a snake,
Tectonic plates shake from the back-breaking weight of my gaze.
An all-night campaign of champagne,
Candy rain,
An array of moaning waves melt your DNA.

Rasputin tilts his head back, eyes rolling white,
Veins illuminate beneath flesh—a neon symphony of life.
A hunger swells, primal and pure, a rhythm thumping in his core,
The pulse of Mother Music, pumping through arteries unseen before.

Fingers twitch, then claw, as delirium sets in,
Notes unravel into strands of sound, vibrating beneath his skin.
He drinks deep—translucent fluids, liquid gold, divine,
Each gulp a stolen melody, a theft of the sacred design.

Then—rip his heart out, eat it while it’s still pumping,
The blood still running, it tastes like boiled dumplings.
A feast of cadence, a sacrament of sound,
Swallowed whole, no hesitation, no slowing down.

But it’s never enough—the cycle must begin again,
Like a song on repeat, a loop with no end.
Then take you back to the beginning and do it all over again,
A cursed refrain, a requiem penned in suffering and sin.

Your bars stay stuck in the liquor store, I teleport through literary corridors.
You pull triggers, I pull dimensions apart—who really got more force?
We can just sit and look at each other, mind against mind,
Like we were throwing books at each other.