Honey mixed with bird s**t,
Elusive aim of words.

Held away from whorish whims,
The angels wait in line for sin
Some want it, some hate it
And some hold black diamonds in their heart.

The character of the experience is specific
And if i were god I would know it
Why does it make mistakes
Look at all the others
It doesn't always glorify me
It lives to belittle me
How could you even suppose you might be god when it's so obvious you're Satan?

And it's weird to look outside of that paradigm,
So stigmatize that.

And being transgendered is weird,
Not normal or obvious in any way at all.

I want to saturate space with an impossible plasma
And rejuvenate you
I hate time for dragging us forward
Crippling your hearing
Dwindling us down

My love for you burns more intensely than all the fusion
Of all the stars in the universe
I may not always act like it but life is crazy
And it's true

And I hate that it feels like we could only love as much as we could,
That we were limited somehow

In a reversal of roles I want to protect you
And I fear that I am the one who is hurting you
Which is one of those things we could just never admit to each other
Because it's sort of not true anyway and the angles from which it is true feel evil,
Inimical.

I know that by my nature I cannot protect you.

Can i even do anything for you at all?

Or was that just a lie I told myself?

Being found out by David Hilbert,
Trying to slink quietly through the garden
And eating dead mice that were already dead.

Traps not set by a smoking hot blonde
Mice that were not really you,
The smoke of a black clove cigarette,
Wine,
And sweet v--ina.

Daring to glance at the ledger
To get a better grasp on the sunk cost
And admitting defeat in the things we enjoyed
That now reverberate in the mind like a dull moronic thud.

We are ever increasingly living for yesterday.

Remembrance must be a trick to sweeten the deal when it's time to forget it all.

We wear radical acceptance like a tattered old trash bag.

I know why I had to be characterized as such an idiot,
But I can't stop looking at it classically.

Infrastructure whips around me like a living fractal
These compounded eyes see the world a little differently
The city street is tomorrow yesterday and today
The forest is an intersection i have with myself

I will never know all the plants and animals
And I will speak every tongue known to man.

My mouth eyes and ears have fused to the cloaca of eternity

My cortex has been smudged by the side of a drunk artist's hand

I am surrounded and i am mortified

Self loathing never tried to free itself

The grass was green on every side
Until it realized the irony of the adage, had a laugh to itself, and burst into flames.

I'm chasing my hardware.

In an effort to make myself more secure,
I have not secured myself.

I have not made myself overall more vulnerable.

But I have not done nothing, either.

The displacement of my present mind
Has caused an apparent fluctuation
But we know what we're doing.

When I try hard to be moral
I have not saved the light.

I have not cast darkness out.

And yet I have saved the light,
And I have cast out darkness.

Am I really the author of my fate?
Sometimes you get red in the face
Screaming "yes" at me.
Other times you seem to commiserate
You seem apologetic
Yet, please don't admit this on those red-faced days.

Oh, how we hold ourself against ourselves.

Oh, how will is held against will!

Oh, imaginary numbers.

The rational and irrational.

The real and composite.

The oddly specific.

The indomitable hero.

I can see where you start
And where you end.

Weeping wounds lie at the heart of the wellspring,
Whose acrid tears are the meal of a godless whorl

An accretion disk convinced of personality
A depersonalizing wreck envious of its own neck

Bearing witness to reflections in the collapsing medium that surrounds the head

And hands stretch out in the great magnetic core
Where breath can stay and peace is an object unto itself

But no one ever tries,
Because the shuddering has remembered the choking
And impossible securities have just been left behind
Like the longest path of stepping stones to a grave.