Where there is nothing, I can see fire and warmth.
Where there is nothing, I can see peace and relief.
Where there is nothing, I can see fairness and equality.
Where there is nothing, I can see growth and Enlightenment.

But because where there is me, I can only see nothing… only nothing, anywhere else, will there ever be.

I’m not loud,

I’m not aloud,

I’m not allowed.

I’m the exception.

I’m the definition.

I’m the truth and the dark.

I don’t bite but watch out for my

bark

peeling off.

Cover your eyes so you can see

what’s oozing out of me,

the radiation gleam.

Obscene dream,

ladies in Vaseline.

Malignant wishes from a benign entity.

Change everything.

I carry water and arrows and my hooves smash the stars.

Peregrinus.

This is the legacy

pain and misery

carve my effigy

plight of synchronicity

they dwelled here before

but I’m breaking out

Here’s the line they drew

I will cut it soon.

Crimson

Planet

Orbit

closing in

floating in the

floating in the martian sky

little martians

little martians waving hi

They flag me into a hole in the ground

open the gate to the base of the town

Verse 1
Even though I’m surrounded now

Still feel like I’m alone somehow

And when I try to speak outloud

seems my words have been swallowed down

  

Verse 2

Swear to me that you understand

you try to lend me a helpin’ hand

reach into the sinking sand

if you’re too late then I’m swallowed down

  

Chorus

If you can pull me out

I just might lose my doubt

my state of mind may turn

The walls around my heart could burn

You’re pulling at my soul

just dig a little more

Keep widening the hole

save me from the rage below

  

Verse 3

The mirror showed me who to blame

for all the ******* and the pain

my desires have been slain

soon my faith will be swallowed down



Chorus

Run away to a foreign country, one with plush yellow green pastures. The grasses hiss soothingly as the breeze brushes them down this way and that. My home, a simple one room shelter built atop a broad and wise dark leafed tree who has welcomed me to its strong open arms. The skirt of my plain brown dress tickles the tops of my feet as I step down onto the soft soily earth.

There are no people here but I am not alone. The wind is here to lift the overflow of thoughts from my ever questioning mind and the water is here to soothe me and commiserate like an old companion purified from the complications of humanity. The dirt is my mother and my father, providing for me. Nurtures me with its succulent plants and cups its hands so that I might take a few small fish from them now and then.

A spotted sun perch hangs behind me as I perambulate meditatively. I see a few delicate vibrant blossoms on the side of my arborous home. They chime a brilliant tune that I will later compose onto a clay canvas. The afternoon is spent cleaning the small token and then toasting it over fire. I tend the patches of nearly wild vegetables and fruits. The most desirable ones plucked for my plate.

Guardian stars begin to dot the serenity of a dazzling dusk that demands my awe. I am aware of my tiny existence and its grand insignificance yet at the same moment I feel as though I was specially chosen by the cosmos to witness this perfect event. An intoxicating shiver grips me suddenly as a gust flits up my spine and through the back of my hair. Slowly it falls and the lulling chirps of a million violinists begin to play to one another. An admiring amphibian adrift the pond lilies relinquishes some commending croaks.

As the dark begins to settle in I climb to my aerial cottage to lie down. The rustling of my nest-bed reminds my neighbor owl of the time and she hoots appreciatively before flying off to begin her hunts. The splendid nocturnal symphony soon sends me to my dreams.

The human race tied to the past like leaves to the rain, lingers personally. Only the dead see everything. Is it a shame not to confine the pain? Memorial blame. Forgiving again. The cycle of dependency, inequity… Course correction is misdirection. My affliction is to battle with action and distraction. Is there an end or must we always re-mend the wounds of living?