Incorrect views, lies and fault
all fueling further incoherencies,
Sometimes I feel as if all of thought
has become terribly misplaced, removed
from its immediate context, it loses any sense

It's almost November,
I lied to myself
thinking I was better.

I went for a walk
to clear my head
of serpentine thoughts,
Turbulent, tempestuous and restless.

I miss her, my city/its tribes:
My love of all I can't
at once remember;
Sharp - Distance
as it were.

In the Heart of the Sunrise
I lost myself
to the memories of her,
A city, my tribe
and a lonesome road
home.

I do not have as much time on this earth
as I would like, I am twenty years old
and each year seems like it lasted no more
than mere seconds. In a month I will be twenty-one,
In a lifetime I'll be dead.
Whatever will I do in-between now and then?
"Just remember to fall in love,
There's nothing else,
There's nothing else".
Sometimes I'm afraid
I've forgotten how,
The only thing I feel
is this fake empathy
attaching itself to everything around me,
Stinging me, wondrously. I'm not sure
whether I believe if this is truly reality
or just misplaced sense-attachments?
I'm questioning my actuality again,
The sense which connects realities;
The accuracy of interpretations to
these many given representations.
"Will I ever love again?" he asked
of himself, foolishly, as if begging
for that insanity. I am a lost cause;
The first one said I wasn't broken enough,
Well now that I'm beyond repair I've gotta ask,
What is love(? (hahaha!)

I remember when sleeplessness quelled the light,
I could feel consciousness flicker like a candle dies,
I should see The impossibility of human superposition,
I would know nothing and be totality in This juxtaposition,
The brain was in standby as I caught a glimpse of It without light;
I choose not to to through That Door,
May It haunt me evermore.

I shall explain why, I was reminded of something Alice's friend said: "Finally, they must agree that, if an opportunity to go over the threshold into death presents itself in the trance state, and they're tempted, for any reason, they are not to do so". Quite specific for a threat so vague
(considering the common-sense rules which did precede).

I dare not declare said unscientific thoughts
to be paltry to anything I believe in
but I did experience an event
detailed as a memory;
And so I say, I stayed
'cause I was trippin'
and far too afraid.
You must let that emotion
wash over this rational poem.

Philosophy involves feeling
like an unknowing child
most of the time, brief
revelation and then
unknowingness
returns again.

The misanthroes of mirthful damnation cast
this hedonism in the hopes of escaping,
It's a lonely heaven, lost in feeling,
Thinking without purpose yet meaning.

What am I if not seeking to be labelled, (am I
not? Does it just happen? So) why would I care to imagine
otherwise, that sometimes I feel;
And sometimes it feels too much
so I think less than a human does
(in-trying to "normalize" myself).

The question is one of human connection,
The human condition in all its conviction;
To feel less enables injustice but to think less
leads to ignorance, to feel more brings my mind
down a path of recursion, lo and behold: infinite
regression, insanity and all of my friends are jus'
chillin'. Better not fear them, the only thing to fear
is fear itself, so acquiesce to feeling lest their fear
becomes manifest, keep measure of it
in order to belay irrationalé.
4lpha-Masculine? 0mega keeps watch
for the manipulative 5igma. Relinquishing sanity
for a measure of phobia, just as Empathos does
when she wanders in Absudia.

In exile, 7ired and £rayed, as the 1and-of-Humankind is
ever-longing, tempting and taunting [us to join with them].

I call out our name, drawn to be, ever-longingly.

Lonely people
are always
up late
at night.