Altruism doesn't exist.
If you disagree, you are simply
Lying to yourself.
If you examine honestly
The things you've done,
Why you did them and
What you expected to achieve by doing them,
You may, perhaps, notice that all of them
Were self serving.

Happenstance dictates your habits,
Even as they are killing you.
Understanding this makes no difference
Like a hairbrush to an Auschwitz Jew.

Knowledge is usually power, but,
in the face of a chaotic rhyme,
It cannot be deciphered with
All clues intact in time.

And so it goes throughout the journey,
As swift we travel to our ends,
Understanding and reality pass untouched
While our dreams are left undefended.

Dust and bits and pieces of metal, water and heat
..wait...is that a soul in there as well?
does this morass perceive me at all, or do I see it only?
A robot only in the sense that it isn't emoting or intuiting or showing empathy.

Heresy and faith walk hand in hand
As do life, death and understanding.
Circumference is the path of our being
From one end to the other, finish to start.

Light the fire with a match of curiosity,
Send the signal to the master of destinies.
Fill to the brim a hungry belly
With all the questions that are posed.

Then, and only then, may you listen,
And listen close you must,
'Ere you miss all of the solutions
Present at the ends of extended fingertips.

Stance
Energy
Attitude
Intent
Direction
Destination
Resolution
Pr­ogress

Wretched, twisted, hacking and heaving
Swirling in lumens where darkness is left behind.
Unbidden cometh the sun and a new day to my door, even though they are both beautiful.
Wiping spittle from my lips and lifting myself away from the porcelain god that held me in such thrall, I go to greet said day.
But first, I reckon I'll go back to the origins of my ill-fated adventures, and make a different choice.

Homily in dueces, wrecked beyond comprehension.
Half starved, swelling throngs of disbelievers,
Half true eulogies eulogizing the still-living, undulating ghosts that whip to and fro between one righteous thought and one sin.
Undaunted in fear do I stand before thee.  
Unheard do I scream a name that can never answer me, as the human attached to it has nothing more to give.
Haunted by my own self.

Testing...is this thing on?
Is it in yet?
How did I accomplish the fantastical?
Within the wearer is where the were-bats wear down the wary conventions wearily widening the pass.
Testing...is this thing on?
How do I get it out now?
Can my deeds become undone within the boundaries of all that is known?
Are there really boundaries?
Testing...is this thing on?
Not if the circuit is cut.

Sometime never around around the corner, with Bukowski's eyes and satin skin,
She waits.
She ruminates the fierceness she will make someone endure while waiting.
Fierceness that only shows it's true nature after safety has been suggested.
Suggestions that come freely, not when asked.
Questions that lie when posed before the wrong ears.
Illumination is only the first letter of a word used falsely to spread truth.
Honesty comes at the bottom of the whiskey bottle, lonely and hurt.
Soon, the nature of her honesty will no longer wait for any other to acknowledge it, but instead, adopt a life of it's own.
Soon.
Soon.

Flashing hot in anger mounting,
Last words not making any sense
To me, you or anyone, present or absent.

Slowly ebbing as the heart beats mellower, more slowly than before.

What happened?

In the night, I see moistness.
Heavy dew smells clean,
The aftermath of morning.