Fast times at, high times in; listen
and hear my beloved city sing.
Hypnotized {by/our} gods,
The world's so pretty;
So alive, so young,
Mistaken, witty.

Am I mortal?
"Yes I am".
In fast cars our mock prayers
scathe a God that suffers from vertigo.
High places and gravity low enough
to touch those dark stars.

"All that talk of greatness.
Light coming off my sails...
What a joke." What a dream!
Something to fall asleep to

Fast times, high times
and my beloved city.
A bottle in my hand and
the lights are so pretty.

"Rise and shine, Mr. Freeman. Rise and shine. Not that I wish to imply you have been sleeping on the job. No one is more deserving of a rest. And all the effort in the world would have gone to waste until . . . well, let's just say your hour has come again. The right man in the wrong place can make all the difference in the world. So, wake up, Mr. Freeman. Wake up and smell the ashes."
*-G-Man

"What dignifies the Yogic practices is that the belief system itself is not truly religious. There is no Buddhist god per se. It is the self, the individual mind, that contains immortality and ultimate truth. At least I know where the self is. It’s in our own minds. It’s a form of human energy. Our atoms are six billion years old. We’ve got six billion years of memory in our minds. Memory is energy! It doesn’t disappear – it’s still in there. There’s a physiological pathway to our earlier consciousnesses. There has to be. And I’m telling you, it’s in the ******* limbic system…. I’m a man in search of his true self. How archetypically American can you get? Everybody’s looking for their true selves. We’re all trying to fulfill ourselves, understand ourselves, get in touch with ourselves, face the reality of ourselves, explore ourselves, expand ourselves. Ever since we dispensed with God, we’ve got nothing but ourselves to explain this meaningless horror of life….Well, I think that that true self, that original self, that first self is a real, mesurate, quantifiable thing, tangible and incarnate. And I’m going to find the ******."
-Dr. Eddie Jessup

You can't find something that isn't lost,
It must be hidden so it can be sought.

Revelation's a *****,
Hindsight's just an aftertaste.

Get a grip,
Unzip.

Flip

Reload,
Insert clip.

Let your freak flag fly,
Let me break the sky.

As the light of the world drains through,
The buzz in my head says "renew".

Everything looks perfect in the half-light,
Their reflections beautiful on flowing glass,
The whispering blades of quivering grass,
The silent sky of coming night,
An indigo horizon's illuminating light.

Those flawless young people at rest in the park,
That lay on their backs waiting for dark,
In an oasis of the city between cathedral and canal,
We found euphoria and were in it's thrall.
Heaven is dark, and the dark is warm.

It was here that I found my true home.

I die a thousand deaths every night
and am reborn after the dawn of each morning light.
I roam vast plains of an unlimited kind
that are neither of the waking eye nor the sleeping mind.

In my domain the world ends at the start of each day
and temples burn casting half-light every way.
We are all clothed in robes, euphoric and without age,
Understanding the unexplainable; philosophers at a rave.

In it's infinite depths, meaning has become irrelevant.
Context has not.

A thirst for knowledge is a quest for gain,
Knowledge is power and power grants domain.
Seeking knowledge is never wrong
but an excess of power can cause harm.
Those who have it are compelled to acquire more,
Addicted to knowing, dopamine's the score.

I need to score. So badly.