What is it about becoming ageless that is so appealing?
Being honest and loud and true too.
But bravery tops them all.
Mostly 'cause I think it's lost.
At least when you tally up the masses of humans beings on the globe,
I would put money on the fact that courage is a rarity.
So old and forgotten that it's been pawned off at the corner.
So who doesn’t want to be remembered for that?
Courage comes in countless forms.
How hard could courage be?
I think the courage to be honest and to be loud and to be true,
is the ultimate direction, the greatest end goal.
Then you will be remembered.
Follow your dreams.
Don’t just dream.
Open doors.
Don’t avoid them.
Try thinking every once and a while about what exactly your doing at this very moment.
I mean with your life.
Are you good? Or are you bad?
You know the difference.
Are you living up to the potential of what being human truly is?
The answer is most obviously no.
Maybe you don’t believe me,
but walking on the concrete pathways to everywhere,
I feel a little displaced.  
Disgraced and put off.
I'm not here to make you feel bad,
but someone told be that we should have our ears upon the soil.
He told me that we should be a little more careful.
"It's not your fault its mine", he said to me.
So, that got me to thinking.
What if we could change the future,
the mold that makes us up?
The DNA and RNA and every single atom.
"We are comfy, leave us alone."
Wait.
Did I just hear you say something?
Ahh, never mind my ranting.
I knew you were never listening.
Just be courageous for gods sake.

Smoke leaves my lungs and crawls
above the nostrils I call yours.
Unsettled you walked away.
Putting lip balm on your fingertips
and touching your lips together.
Smack, smack.
You are essentially a goddess.
Applying your balm and making me restless.
You should be ashamed,
but rather I am.
And that’s the magic that you have.  
The hold you’ve got on me is really more than magical.

Now, you blow your smoke at me.
I **** it in.
I love the sour tang
and the fact that it is yours.
Hours float on by
and memories forget to be made
but you were always there.
Puffing rings into my life.
Puff, puff.
That’s what we were.
Rings of smoke,
and anyone we passed
could feel our putrid dissipation.
And we stuck to the inside of cars.
And we never quite left the curtains fresh either.
And we made you all sick with cancer.
And we had no idea.

Illusions and spell casters,
tyarants and nobles.
Thats the roster.
Gifted fellows hidden in ghettos
and men who can fly
go about their regular business.
Meanwhile, professors light off their toy rockets.
The missiles fling beautiful con trails across the sky and
drop John Doe off at the moon.
Monsters still hide in shadows
and eagles still die.
*But don't you worry your tired soul,
because change is coming.

Vexed by the dots that are strewn above the clouds.
My intense gaze fixed upon the moon
and the mystery it shrouds.
As my observance leaves home freedom is found.
Invigorating.
Beats of a cosmic drum,
binding strength to my essence,
keep my flight in animation.
The beads of cosmic spring,
trickle the length of my lips
and I dance across the space between each star.

Laughing and crying
and learning the truth of it all,
and seeing the probabilities.
This was my lasting message
as I couldn’t fly forever,
be at one with your planet
for the bounty of nature
is endless,
and our lasting possibilities
simply rely on that.

I tell myself,
"Go dine tonight on memories,
on the fleeting thoughts of misery,
the tale tell signs of ignorance,
and the blind reliance on energy."

My other self then chimes in,
"But the beast still silent,
hiding in the shadows,
waits to prey on you
as you yourself feast upon the world."

"Good luck with that, Me", I say.
Continuing my meal,
and cutting Me off short.

Thats the day I watched my ego walk away.
I try not to let it phase me
but truth be told it did.
None the less I bit the Bulleit,
the elixir to my problems.
I think tomorrow my ego
is finally gonna come home.

Swords of diamond blade hang above the pillow
that I rest my restless head.
Tied to the bed are serpents and lions that slither and bellow
to the rhythm of my veracious heartbeat.
One hundred feathers are at my feet
while the fathers I once trusted
have gone and exiled me.
A hundred problems and one silly solution.
Ignorance is bliss.
Be wise and consider the consequences.

I quantify the challenges I face every day,
by simple math.
Drought, starvation, disease and death.
They still never really add up.
Doorways to the nether neither proved,
nor disproved my sanctity.
So I trudge on.
The holy portals of tomorrow still guiding me.
Now, I’m not making any choices.
They are defined by a divination of the ancient form.
I just listen to the voices.
Bones and dice turn men to mice.
My situation defined simultaneously as I transform.
From a man to a mouse,
and still human.
Well hardly,
but we're not here to read of that.
Just close your wanting eyes and see the prophecies.  
Both at the end and at the beginning.
A fresh start to my advances.
This is the end and the beginning.