Visions, similar to Jehovah
Splash in the bottomless ocean of
Charlotte ink
There established in the evicted
Cul-de-sac of my fragmented mind,
Fractured over this Epic of Time.

Dancing with my feet
Swinging with my arms
I walk, over puddles of tears and fears.

I lower my head, to notice
My rapid presence in action,
When I accidentally glanced at
The mirror mirror on the ground
And my reflection;
                             The actions of my past
                             Are imprinted in the crevices
                             Of my forehead;
I step back to breathe.



So many roads, so many roads,
And yet I find myself here here.
So many roads, so many roads,
And yet I find myself here.
Oh so many roads, so many roads,
And yet I find myself here.

I find myself
Looking in the mirror
Reflecting on
The actions
Of my past.

So many roads,
So many roads,

I don’t know
How I find myself here
Again, but here I am

I feel like
I’ve gone through

57

Lives
Of disbelief.

S
L
I
C
E
D

Into

1
3

D
I
A
M
E
T
E
R
S


(now picture a tsunami following over your cortices, like a cherry blossoming in April showers)

I feel like








Is
Trying to

                                                                  LEAVE.

But everything
                           is moving
                                             to the
right.

My mind slips
Into ten thousand
Bumble bees,

I forgot how easy
It is for me to
Slip into melody
From things that
Occurred from the
Periphery,

Im gone Mami!
And I won’t be back.

Tie me to your hip driving up the strip
Like a strap stab me
Into Alrvarius’ brain
Extract like a syringe,
Mental sirens slip-slap
Fabricate below the cap,

I feel, metal outlasting
Clashing the nevera of my lower back.

I’m gone Mami!
And I won’t be back,

‘Til the heavens send me a message
Of the sins in my souls possession
Mixed with gusts of Ninole’s winds
And my “why”

I say farewell to our memories,
Now, scoundrels of immense value,
Lost in the cracks of our times together.
Now, I say goodbye,
And hello to where the sun sets.

        My mother wrapped her arms around me,

           Kissed

                                  My
     Cheek,
And told me I’ll be back.

Who knew the hardest goodbye
Would be in disguise,
Who knew the hardest goodbye
Would be in disguise.

Monday mornings are always easy.

Monday mornings bring a breeze South
Of The East,
North
Of The West.

Its caressing the exposed skin
of my flaky neck
like the lead cannon from Atlantis,

Flying for the grasp
Of the cactus from San Pedro
That provides mescaline to the tribes
Nearby, that pray to its being as The Messenger
From

The West. Beyond the horizon,

Like the jack rabbit, eroding, with a tube
Sock in the vestibule over The Dungeon That Sings,

Sideway neighbors to the uvula. If seen that way.
                        
                  Beyond, the continual rings of                             Agorapho-

                                                      ­                                              bia,
Challenging anxious mind,
With ideas
Of how it be the, not the seal in yestereen's heels.

Monday mornings
Are always easy.