She found me there, killing time in scribbled lines of other times long gone, with song after song, longing for the wrong things, she chose me anyway, and blanked into the day to day pages faded in disappearing ink, that remained incomplete, until i left her there, staring into the sheets that i shrank into.

Sheriff has his feet up
Outlaw rides a path
Deputy is cleanin up
***** draws a map

Of a tumble ****
Tumbelin down the street

Where the fields a burnin
And the wells are dry
And the blacks burnin
The curious eyes

Of a crow perched on a fence
wheat hangin from its beak

Where bones are speakin
From a barn ablaze
Old man speakin
From the flames

I wake without sleep, as numeric patterns, and geometric shapes form my place in a state of diabolatry, from deep below the normal feelings, merging the once dichotomies of my indifference.

Something is just different now.

I have fallen just beyond the facing, of a star that has traveled so far to sing, in scrambled signals, and heated beams, pushing unto me.

I breathe in the toxicity of knowing something, i could not possibly perceive, as a certain grief, fills me, and dies inside.

A dread i cannot appease in knowing that i must do something, but how, but what, but soon i must move to submit to it, regardless of the rift that builds on my broken will, in dispassionate force.

I am someone else, looking back from the portals of my trust, and i have found a secret between all of us, hoping that ill tell myself, before i **** myself on the other side, in another time, from my hell that reaches up, embracing my fear in a meaninglessness that means so much more..

I cannot put my finger on it, until it feeds me more, but the horror is prevalent, and it pours into the holes inside of me, as the empty feelings rise from my naivety, unable to be ignored anymore.

Covered in sweat, and adorned in regrets, that i have never known as of yet, as i once slept to dream, i now dream, to wake, taking nothing with me, but this.

Your pain
Its perfect
So pretty
When you hurt

Your hurt
So patient
Feeling silly
When you smirk

You're a fool
To love me
Without showing

You're an idiot
To forsake me
Not knowing it

So beautiful
When you
Are blue

******* love you
Wish you knew

All i see is you

It is not to capture moments, as moments are lost in passing, but it also cannot be the embrace of the future, as the future lapses the present, and falls in passing as well, but it is the present where our gods live, limited only by our imagination, and will that can propel us into being exactly where we intend to be.

living.

It is not for everybody.

I will not hide despite the cameras in the sky, nor will i fear the satellites or Internet spies, and i will fight, and i will fight, as to not comply to the lies that co-hearse the norm, into standing idly by, in malformed, and twisted histories, twisting history, into a pearled vision of ministries giving eulogy, to enemies of the light, using light to blind the masses, before the flashes of infertility begin emanating from the cities, under the unity of, We The People, turned predator, under better sedatives that are better delivered, straight to the dream, or belief, of, or in anything.

Dare to dream, turn a blind eye to everything, or just something else, assigned children, or stolen wealth, while warmly held, in foggy hostilities, of those you rarely see, while soldiers of the peace, protect the streets, with covered faces, and powder burned fingers, lingering just out of reach, from the stones that burn the armored cars SAWing through the crowds, with the pulsing sound, of a million hell hounds, hell bound, machine gunning the bodies on the ground, for the pale riders, feeding on the dark horse, on course for a four course meal, leaving hopeless poses, of crying corpses, ashing in the wind of their trail.

Its our blood of defeat that lines the streets with the feed for the beast, as well as that same blood that feeds our victory, as we shall be exactly on time for the end, and the beginning.

Pale skin, thin hair, foggy eyes, and fragile limbs, as showing ribs heave in the neon lit engine room, of a cruise ship lost in the deep.

In the distance, a planet shines, setting the coordinates, the reprise activates their minds, as they collectively decide, to call it Earth.