All is lost,
that swirls in the sand.
All is lost,
which swirls.

income
pay for the date
and living in a cab
sleeping in a body bag.

got suits older than you
and listen to this
take your mind off
track

and the record squeaked
the sound of feet
descending down the stairs.
starry eyes gazed upon oceans

sleeping through stop lights
with a pipe-bomb at home.
placing the blame
to take trust away.

living sideways
in a slide
never ending
hide and seek.

sleeping in a tent
down the street from
the next chapter of the picture
in life.

All is lost,
that swirls in the sand.
All is lost,
which swirls

you wouldn't believe the things I haven't seen
like the leaves falling from an autumn tree,
a safe place from closed system entropy
these invisible moonbeams or sincerity.

you wouldn't believe the things I haven't seen
the atomic bomb, thousand suns' blinding clean,
logic in synchronized step to a time machine,
escaping suffocation in a submarine.

you wouldn't believe the things I haven't seen,
the conspiracy concerning love and greed,
the meaningless excusing the mean,
an apple eaten become a seed.

You would believe the things I hear,
falling, the soft drop of a tear,
lies that stem from fear,
laughing, cuts!, and disappears.

Consumer Culture makes me sick,
it burns like acid contained in
coffee cups the size of
your heart exploding.
Music that will **** your ears
for only a buck
because it is a song shaped by greed
alongside factories, with smoke stacks
acting as sploof tubes,
covering the smell of life
created just to be killed.
They have innocent eyes
an organism giving away its only truth
for convenience, for simplicity
**** your fast food,
**** your jellybean president.
Employment is conscription to join
on the losing side in the war on
your time and mind, The Double Bind.
You ought to love your country
but do you?
You ought to compete, go for the win
**** your friends, get to the top.
Do you know what the prize is?
One morning you wake up and find
that your game was a farce
and you aren't what you really are
but what you could of been.

Defend your limits.

For we are waterfalls, spinning wheels of imagination
shaping clay with organic inspirations
planting ideas in the fertile unconsciousness
Don't form beliefs, form a question.

Understand we are ice-9
collectively, we are the watering-system
We are the true god through experience mystic
disbanded stars that are the galaxies.

Properties of our composition suggests that,
you better let this water flow,
because if you don't
a world full of love
would love to strike you down
making you coo and swoon
over the symbols of a dream,
the beautiful sunflower riding a bike,
hitting a hacky sack perfectly
at the end of the day

a cup beckons inscribed with your name
are you just going to sit and stare at it?

Disappointment only occupies a individual span of time
and is then overcome by satisfaction
Satisfaction is then overcome in the same fashion
A generation of fools or maybe it's just me.
Sticking to the plan and accepting
that opinion is fact
following in the foot steps of collapse
thinking they are leaning how to dance.
With so many details involved convinced Death is just
Coincidence with life
just there to balance out both sides
of an equals sign still ending up strapped
for cash and more illusions than the house of mirrors
Losing ourselves in the blind spots of despair
taking turns without looking sounds the safest way
to be a ****** for things with synthesized happiness
I want something more now than just sushi
more passionate than enthusiasm and energy.

Filling up the emptiness with all the things people told me
I should believe in and I would feel better
But soon repetitious days are ending
just as every song heard dies and dissappears
from the range of your ears
no matter the battery or modes of repetition

****, this loneliness is an accident
even though I thought I chose it
I thought I needed it
I feel like the past owes me a more well-adapted present
but it didn't and that's what they say life is
and probably will soon be asking if I make money
or if I'm somewhat satisfied
yeah, I guess so, maybe I could be
But sometimes I can't relate to pride according to my financial state
I don't need ownership over things that belong to everybody
just Imagine a real family.

I am the Never Man
styling in the forgetful grace of thought
and live in a house of the things that I forgot
they always seem to bubble to the top
to point the way to take or pave
to bend the grass in a wind wave.

Come visit me
dressed up with black
and I loved you
till you came and confessed
you cried
how worried you were!
you put on such a great show
I believed every movement
till you were no longer there
I tried to get across to you
but ended up behind my eyes.

Lingering long in my thoughts
I died laughing
how funny it really wasn't
why trick a person with nothing?
file away at your complaints
till you see the real problem

darling you were dead
and no visit could revive
the person you had been

loving you was a trap
set by your own graceful hands
but I can't listen
for if I do anything at all I'm too amazed

This is a toast for the human mind
and the times that are deemed unworthy
of being retain and replayed like a video tape
of any hour being less significant than any other
of any second less pure than the next in procession.

This remembrance is the eulogy for
the thousands of bunnies jumping to conclusions
too quickly, seeing the high-beams of an automobile
as the one way ticket to eternity.

Let these words document the stillness
of things behind the glass
the undisturbed romp of the birds
in the backyards of suburbia,
and the still being in the dark concerning
why they use our parked cars as target practice

or the motivation behind every mirrored window suicide
only thinking of them as portals to the other side.

everything is going to sink.
the bubbles of air will sink
the troubles will sink
rocks will break my toes
twine will sew back together
you cannot save me
you will only sink if you jump in
you will only sink.
The price of a life will drop
the money in coins will sink
the paper will rip
but mine will bloom
like a flower filled with blood
because we both bleed red
mine is like syrup
yours is like oil

i will sink.
The colors they will sink too.
my soul It will collapse under pressure.
my life will escape before the last breathe.
but it will only sink further.
like passengers in submarines
we will cry salt.
we will pray for a savior
but he
he will only sink.
your love is oil
but I am tombed in a bottle.

the evening sky
was split in two
by streams of hot water
boiling over the top
of a cloud

stars fascinate millions
from the first one
to show its face around dinner
or driving home
till the moon is setting
and the morning paper
unknowingly arrives

but sometimes they are just noise
that gets captured
and is projected behind my eyes
sometimes i try to keep it there
and hope to magnify
the painting spontaneous
to collide with your soul

keep still long enough
and it starts to move you
the swing of earth
the ancient dance
that drags my feet
to wherever it leads me next.

Infinity cannot be charted, but i think i saw a limb.

Afternoon Sun shower.
Convinced to be open minded, it wasn't strange at all.
Convinced to taste everything, the radio was singing.
Somehow privileged to experience this,
like staying up to late to see the stars
that couldn't fall asleep.

There were plenty of things to do today.
At first overwhelmed and frustrated.
A dog swam and rolled in the dirt.
*******.
*******.
Over dramatic thoughts.

Swam again and caught him with a towel.
Ran against the road.
The same speed as the giants on the interstate.
Comparisons to satellites and earth spinning.
The Car's computer didn't feel like having diagnostics.
Faked sick as to not attend the show.
Ate,
got shot but heard an embarrassing voice say "Peanut Butter Jelly"
it was over and it is covered now.

Flip Flop Psychology.
Running Civilization.
Seeing My Old Friend.

Now, just waiting for music to explode.

We used to hear the rain speak
the conversations between teardrops .
the earth
wiped them away with broken hearts

-

if  thoughts of suicide were entertained
it was only because they were liberating
not because they came free

now, nothing is coming easily
I have forgotten how to speak
only panic before my thoughts

It happens all the time
everybody is too drunk to notice

All the magic is gone
Everything once special has no meaning
Location is just a sad dot
on a sad map

all fluid movement is forced
the eyes that I meet
desire only to close
and fall asleep

faces are painted gray
the landscape became bare overnight
no longer did we walk
we simply filed in order
and ended up in the dark

We dropped our pens
and shut the door on life
phone calls were left unanswered

movies, a strange silhouette
music, a single note
clothes, a uniform

we all wanted to cry
but forgot how.
the sensation was remembered
and left before it came

love was a job
and growing up
was just the way
to get there

all sterile
and lost
in the slow pulling
pain.

there aren’t any people left
to say “don’t be angry”
“don’t be sad”

that audience was a universe
inside of an eye
that sighed
stood up
and left.

The clock becomes a detachable head.
Acquiesced to the ground
The fragments become priceless.
Wrinkled people grovel over the eager glass
Pick them up and risk the cuts.

Vibrations equalize
and everyone is holding hands
stuffing their distractions and sadness
into a sack
looking into each others’ eyes
blurring the faces into one
letting go is hard at first
but then after it is hard
to keep from spinning out of control.

At first sharing for simplicity
and then in a disease involuntarily
for daytime T.V shows
and self-help-how-to-do-your-life books
by self-proclaimed seers and prophets
reading the palm of your hand
which is also mine
and his.

No time
to stop
not for a second.

you are
the god
and all the questions are answered

you are the ice that covers sidewalks
warmth will defrost thought out actions,
instilling the masterpiece.

Response:
Why not look inside of you?
Are there questions that cannot be answered?
Yes but only because of detail
and the sharp and spiky squares of  
Science.


the dance we learn to stop dancing,
goes on after us and goes on into forever.
like forever may not be there.
it doesn’t seem to note or care
that the space between your two ears.
comforts my neck best
or constellations crossing your chest
constantly suggests no matter the rearrangement
no coincidences are circumstance
I’m trying not to look for it
some reality where I belong

if forever sees it has missed a beat
laughing and playing.
I so obediently repeat
what you’ve so gracefully said to me.
Life is not a sign for anything else.
It is more of  an enigmatic saying from a hermit
below a full moon
purely nonsense insane.
…but realizing the smile with which it was contained.

Overwhelming sense of death.
Consumed my thoughts, my actions.
I grabbed onto anything
and held as The Fall began.

Sudden jolt and I am aware
Soft cries come from downstairs
it is too early, something is instantly
wrong.

The drive to my house is long
the last moments of being blissfully ignorant.

Pull up
the driveway is filled with
cars, I don’t understand.
The front door, rushed,
People everywhere
demeanor drops
My mind races with the Intangibles.

Led away, muffled cries
then panic,
Hysteria, disbelief, dreaming right?

Little brother sits softly on my mother’s bed
he doesn’t understand, I don’t understand
as she tells us about
a heart that failed
a heart that stopped
a heart that was too large, too generous
to handle.

Crying. Stop. Shower
Naked, yelling to a god
that no longer exists
coughing as steam rises
apologizing for nothing.

It was the last sentence
I spoke
It was the last time I couldn’t
bear to look.

Screaming episodes
an ambulance
blood in his mouth
the phone and anticipation
screaming from the top to emergency workers
“Hurry the **** up”

I sat crying on two small steps
trying to accept this desperate shell,
this blind man was my dad.

Two months later, a room full of people
where my friends saw me cry for the first time
trying to accept that some solemn heavy casket
was the same man.

The course deemed easy is the one that reminds you to forget
when things get heavy, suddenly turning to mist
moon face stained my eyes manifest
electric smoke ghost rings
I can feel you climbing up my spine
every cushioned vertebrae in singularity.

please, disapprove of me now
because if I go on carrying
what I believe about you
in the back pocket of my brain
my knee will splinter
my stomach will gorge upon itself
and my eyes will turn back and look at me
like you looking at me
like you dreaming the same dream


now walls imaginable
breathe incomprehensible verbal structures
that lose their meaning
in fuzzy logic
in meaningless dribble
in the future
in the past
the idea of you
and the idea of reality
where I don't have to be distant

butnowstill

I miss your sweet voice
and trying hard not to forget
so that no other person can take it
I'm trying to preserve our words
that at best won't make it
to a new age
to a world that might forget
what it means to love
and slowly be torn apart by it
to reset the sign posts
leading to the center
of a circle reset.

hopefully leading one lost soul
outside, sunrise to sunset
hopefully cracking open the book
that will never be written
and still trying to write it.