Waking.  Encompassed by sounds far beyond the stretched boundaries of human conception.  Attempted by animals of raw thought to understand.  Though defining the obvious only spawns extreme difficulty for them.  One slightly detached from the rest listens  for volume as well as sound and differences within difference.  As concentration is further revealed by an onlook upon still reflection.  A reflection of Pure sound.  To connect Pure with Natural, two believed one.  Yet each equally substantial and distinctly ground.

Infesting the pockets,
miscarried by the milady of emotional sacrifice
Stubborn animalistic hand, reaching before to sever yesterday's secret diary
Only one, but evil carries formless strands varied to eyes
Those eyes, which shall see through cloaks relinquishing substance
Crushed beneath Pearl Heavens, lacking all breathable fabric to survive

Sense is senseless
For those who know
Nonsense

Getting off the plane my bags nearly dragging the ground just like my shoulders.  I'm not looking for it.  Cuz "it" was left behind with the one I thought loved me.  Now my only welcome home comes from the pelting rain hitting my face as terminal doors swing open to my reality.  Don't care that I'm soaked to the bone, taxis laugh me by and screaming siren slows its tone with the dying rhythm of precious cargoes heartbeat not unlike my own.

Empty box
Raised right hand
Lopped

Reaching into outer spaces
Twisted forms of time laid out
Do we fall in unreal places?
Identity twists the answering spout
Locked up, left out our minds ever racing
Chasing the Ones chewing the few
No breach in sight a new knots beginning
As with our hope, a simple adieu

Trodding in a sweat soaked fashion along limestone calles.
Sandals gradually changing from worn to white as we faction the way.
Our Maya entourage in tow toward their Sacred Cenote.
So here we are now what a strange ****** array.
Did that turn down second guessing pass us by? No se.
Will we awaken destructive ripples in His waters we play?
Enough offering hands of cervezas, pan dulces?
To quench hungry prowling here in Death's domain