TRANSCIENCE:
misspell it every time. somewhat
quite sure it’s intentional. feel i
might be due a nightmare. have
been throwin’ too much weight
on the psyche. pressing
my worth
more and more out of existence.
and i am more disciplined than
i allow myself to believe.
with awkward schedule fulfilling
each day, awakening to death
and the Sun’s mistress giving
chase. with each sun set
and rise, i drift. world witnesses
rebirth. continual birth,
and everything turns out
in the end.      (no fatalist)
goat’s head on the wall,
staring as i can barely scrawl.
eyes that see beyond this vessel,
to search a span of sleeping lives.
and cold wind gusting, i’m
all too focus’d.
if only a pocket warmer to
thaw these clench’d muscles,
nothing more than tepid
flesh. nothing, endless flesh.
found broken lines,
found blur’d thought,
i awaken.
  - and may they never be
    found having to cook
    with premium pony meat.
too cryptic. i lost it. and now
the Muse of Nothingness
brings the other, brings
the middle ground. continue
to brake and simplify. at
long without it,
the Sea Wolf always finds me.
and if to change places, it
would be much the same as
how this vessel seeks the Sun.
and i
am consumption of sacrament.
and i
am beauty all inclusive.
and i
am crass, purposeful, in misleading.
and i
am prone to not caring for
making sense.
and i
am Lotus Eater re-emergent.
and i
am bound to sound like
a slow burning. like a little.

The worlds never truly silent
turn off your television and just listen
tires rolling over the iced streets outside
the buzzing of the street light
the pitter patter of a gutter next door
streaming water
as the water runs down the side of the curb
like children in a playground
it dances and laughs its way to the open drain
I lite my cigarette and blow a big cloud towards the stars
I here the airplanes in the sky passing by
and a cat hisses at something in a dark corner
As I inhale again I can here my lungs fill up with the toxic aroma
and I taste the smoke under my finger nails as a chew them off.
I here the sound of feet and look across the street two young kids holding hands walking
I try to eaves drop on their conversation but the cars passing bye blocks my attempt at spying on them. I can here what their saying to eachother as I see them both smiling "it's cold out here.. but your warm" I'm jealous almost and just as I think this my ciagrette burns me and brings me back to the echo of the town. I toss the burnt end and here it land in a puddle I watch as it gets taken away down along the side of my house. were all a generation of the television society and left out brains on the couch as we stuff our faces full of patato chips and useless tv programs. When the real entertainment waits for us outside. where the music of the world is waiting to be heard. Instead we click our remotes and fall into a trance of law and order tv programs and violence upon violence school shootings and who the next mass ****** is a sick twisted form of entertainment. I guess listening to the world got so boring...... I guess I'm the only one who sees the world as a untamed ochestra waiting to be composed into a lovely sympathy. On mistro On you play for your little sounds are not useless I here you playing and strumming the world is perfectly in tune if you just listen.

The lost elk on blue pine mountain,
Where all the stunted world is small,
Know the face of winter as it founts,
Above tree lines, trumpet all is cold.

So busy wrapped up in the way that the stars were glowing
that I couldn't possibly foresee the dark path before me.

Touched what I've never touched before, seen what I've never seen before.

So busy searching for a shooting star that I would never see
that I paid no attention to my blindside.
Naive to my inner demons
"Lolli gagging" through a field of dreams
blocking my bright eyes from my realities.
Dancing through  life as if I had nine lives.

Kept my mind angled in a way that could keep my fears at a far distance
Ears open but never listening.
So I soon became distracted with the way the moon seemed to call my name from a near distance.

Touched what I've never touched before seen what I've never seen before.

Snapped, crackled, and cringed into the real world.
Like a baby exiting the womb frightened by new sounds and new air.

and i’ve lived years of
turbulence; to be loc-
k’d out. problems str-
iking as an adder. pro-
blems adding to the
strike out. end of the
game we all play but
for the lone individ-
ual, and i was hand’d
the pack of smokes
with a ten wrap’d ‘ro-
und. not an act of for-
ced reliance. act of:
  – save your money.
     you need it more
     than i.
and i’ve learn’d to ac-
cept. to receive with
grace and charity, to
offer in grace and ch-
arity. that other ten
percent.       braking.
     January,
year prior, to be found
destitute yet suffer no
one’s restrictions. and
the numb fingers rem-
ind me of my obstina-
nce, remind me that
i’ve been made to suf-
fer the cold.
oh, how the frigid
men slept with a rotg-
ut shank prepared. en-
ding dreams in which
survival is their sunrise.
and i pull’d a scarf over
my face to obviate the
cold. and in the false
spring of year prior, the
trees were trick’d to
give up their leaves
budding life as an
early spring sacrifice.

I put little stock in counseling, simply because it doesn’t work for
me. That’s reasonable. right?
That’s why I’m not
going back.
Because contrary to the initial irrational paranoid belief held by
not me, I was not
***** by anyone this last July, I am not
an altered boy.

Repression? Obsessions? Depressions?
You’re right, in a sense. I was not
***** by one man this last July, I was
***** by the whole church for the past 18 years.
I learned, or perhaps deduced, from Sunday School
that all *** is sin
that inanimate objects had a goodness or badness about them
that Satan was in my head (by this I was terrified)
that all my friends were going to Hell (by this I rebuked them and was never forgiven)
that its true: my parents would have gotten me ****** to death in biblical times
because they love me
that I could choose who I was attracted to (apparently by watching straight ****)
that God needs money
that the Internet is of the devil >mfw intellectual open market
that I could only achieve ****** once in a lifetime >mfw I came
that God’s love is conditional
that electronics are a sin if they make noise and are inside a specific building
that all Muslims are terrorists
that I’m worthless because I’m a sinner
that I’m inherently evil.

And I still miss it sometimes.
I miss the taste of Christ’s ****.

No need for dramatics but cinderblock house arrangment tempo
Is not equal to the federal concordance
Checking back
No
No
No wait
equals

What professor 25