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Mar 2018 · 213
Bringing Up The Rear
Kam Yuks Mar 2018
My life is mismanaged
Try to catch up, think fast
Too slow.

I’m so far behind
I just caught a whiff of your ****
Two years late.

You smile, blink your eyes
And turn away
From the rumination

It’s hard to start something new.
It’s even harder
when your past breathes harder
Than your present.
Mar 2018 · 183
Kam Yuks Mar 2018
There is nothing poetic about sitting in a dark locker room and crying at work.

There is no redemption in laying on your couch all weekend and watching forensic files.

There is nothing pretty about this place - where suffering means nothing.
Jun 2017 · 175
Just a Coffee
Kam Yuks Jun 2017
Reach farther,
She isn't totally repulsed
by your bald sweaty head
and Sensitive blotchy skin.

May as well hide my face
and starve this desire

You deserve more than my
infantile objectification
I've coveted your beauty,
packed your image away
within this place in my mind.

I'm not the type to let my blood
Drip on others, in fact
I pay special mind to ensure
The poison stays inside.

When you ignore me
it hurts and I lose footing.

You asked to come with me
to get coffee
Of course you can - always.

I'm too ashamed to tell you
how I feel
And how hearing your voice
fills me with excitement and

Cheers to you
and the longing
In my heart
Crushin' so ******' ******* this woman at work and its knotting me up inside. She is just really not in to me and I'm having a difficult time accepting that.

This is part of my effort to let go and free up that energy for positivity in my life and to withdraw this longing from the image I've created of her in my head. I'm way too old for this ****.
Jun 2017 · 235
Vision of Daughter
Kam Yuks Jun 2017
Last night in bed
I imagined your face
In front of
a setting sun

Surrounded by
The amber sky
Your smile was radiant

I tried separating
The pain in my heart
From the gratitude I feel
for witnessing your existence
May 2017 · 213
Sorry I Noticed
Kam Yuks May 2017
forgot your face.
But the tears don't stop. I left
them in the mountains somewhere
over Williamsport when I passed through.

There were even more
trailing through the streets,
Floorboards, walls, parks, monuments, and
hotels of Washington D.C.

Don't mind me because I Am
pushy or aloof - oh, I forgot.

You really don't give a ****.
May 2017 · 223
Dee Storm
Kam Yuks May 2017
I sent you
A text

And immediately

The screen Of.
Your phone in.

The reflection of
your bright
beautiful eyes.
Kam Yuks Jun 2016
So this is what it's like.
I figured I would
Know better.

Slipped outside of
In between
Dread and
Complete despair.

All the places
My desires have led me.

I hoped I'd be
More interesting
But instead,
The interest in
The novelty has faded.

After the interests I've
Collected from
Others have vanished,
I'm left with my own.

Too bad
I'm so interested
In my beat up Old couch

finding the sweet spot
Is sweeter than
Finding a quarter
Between The cushions.
Jun 2016 · 261
Something About Life
Kam Yuks Jun 2016
My heart breaks
A little more
Each time
I hear you

Out loud and alone
My breath makes
The only noise
My sunken heart

I want to know my value.

You say,
"It's up to you"

I truly appreciate
My freedom

My freedom
has become
A prison
Of uncertainty
And self neglect.

So sad;

To know
You'll be gone
Before I find the time
To understand
How much more
I could have tried
To be part of
Your life.

I don't see a

The continued struggle
To convince myself
That my time here
Is somewhat significant

Everything I do
and everything
I am
Will be forgotten.
May 2016 · 213
It's the Last Line
Kam Yuks May 2016
I breathe your breath
From the darkness
To the light.

I'm sunk in solitude
But for a picture
That has curled and creased
Underneath the junk in the drawer

Life's little mystery
The path and who's aligned
Meet me elsewhere
Think of me
From out there
Looking solemnly
Toward what's in
And outside of
My Pinhole Universe
Kam Yuks Nov 2015
By force and energy, changes are made and maintained.

Years go by and I contradict what I know with my actions.

My change purse is light. My value - though never high - continuously sinks lower and lower.

I wanna go with the flow but the flow just won't take me along.

I'm a grown man thrashing within shallow waters. I've tried to cauterize my wounds from my body but my pants are weighed down with **** from the past like a baby with diapers.

I don't want to make living this life all about myself.  
Too late!

Everything and nothing mean everything and nothing at all.

I need a friend to get high with.  

I need a friend to cry with when crying is all I can do.
May 2015 · 369
Evident Wasteland
Kam Yuks May 2015
Making order of a ****** mass, recovered testicles and shards of bone are filtered through trembling hands alongside the unseen vacancy standing silently - waiting blank and patient. A doctor's notes blown about by force, scatter and lift through the air peacefully moved by music and pain. The air is not thick, it is dry and light. You must suffer to get here but no one believes here is a place to be.

Just ask your neighbor or your bosses friends. These ones have gotten lost within the lies that split the darkness from truth to be hung up in a viewing room for loose bottles of beer with friends Sunday afternoon trying to drown the silent tapping of panic. They won't believe you because what you describe harkens to ghosts and legend.

Be very aware.

We are normal, but I guess the stars don't suppose with a consciousness as thin as ours that they are supposed to be anything else but what they seem to be. In my mind is not our universe but it is mine within that which we share simultaneously - some points are marked out by now, then, and who knows when.

I want to be confident within this mystery and walk amidst the rest with a strong sense of myself or at least secure enough to walk strongly fragmented with acceptance.

I invite you all.

Not you though.

The one inside you.

The one without a body.

Remind me that our experience is not limited to these skin and bones.
Needs editing. Thanks for reading if you get to the end even more so.
Mar 2015 · 511
The Gods Rain Piss and Shit
Kam Yuks Mar 2015
My eyes gaze over the table of food through the company and off into the distance beyond the mildew on the walls.

I would feel more comfortable collecting the cobwebs from this basement ceiling.

Instead, I try hard to seem interested in what others are saying while avoiding eye contact, and -

BANG!! It's time to eat. The moment I've been most waiting for. Now I can concentrate on the food and do what I really came for.

Never eat and run though. It's time to act interested in the others once more.

Karaoke. Who doesn't love an overly enthusiastic host hoisting a microphone in their face?

Thanks for the food but I don't feel like singing a Kenny Rogers song or a whoever the **** song of some twit whose been in the top 40 within the past 5 years, or 20 for that matter.

Thank Jupiter they are distracted. Now is my chance to slip out quietly. I make it out the door and find out that someone parked behind me.

what else do you got in that cd case? Any Conway Twitty by chance? Oh really. **** it, I'm next
Kam Yuks Feb 2015
I haven't written about you until now because I fear the words won't be meaningful enough. It's funny how something so important shines a new perspective on what I considered so important.  

You are...
The most important part of my life and I cry because I love you so much. I cry because I don't love myself enough to give you what you deserve.

I love you so much the world means nothing and everything. This world is not good enough for you.

I'm sorry I'm so broken.


Your dad
Kam Yuks Feb 2015
My wings are healing now.
It's been a long sad time for brittle dinosaur bones. I can barely recall the names that ran me through with deceit and malice. I'm feeling content to be average, or something else altogether - more of an outlier really.

It's okay.

I'm okay today.
Kam Yuks Nov 2014
Good morning again. Wake the **** up! Back to sleep once again in my head. Sway back and forth in front of the mirror until I **** near collapse into the wall with a stream of drool perfectly poised at my mouth before I wipe it off and sit on the toilet.

Perhaps my phone will keep me awake.


I'm rocking again and only give up on trying to stay awake bare assed when my phone hitting the floor prompts me up and at em once more to lay in the tub that, once filled, barely covers my **** and ***** that are forcefully tucked underneath my gut flop.

Awake again now
sweatier than before
less refreshed than left over fries after a microwaved cycle.

Them: "look how different your life is."

Me: "new responsibilities - same limitations."

I haven't grown. Life changes. Look back at the pictures and you'll see - less hair on the head that surrounds the same fat face.

At least I wear deodorant, although it is my wife's until I pick up some more of my own.
Oct 2014 · 1.3k
Symbiotic Cargo Hold
Kam Yuks Oct 2014
No use for a bigger screen that my mind can't accommodate. I hear voices in the dark and paint pictures of one color in the corner of my clouded imagination. My thoughts consist of questions. The answers come in the form of blank print plates with damaged lettering.

My smile cracks the moment between naïveté and contempt.  

Can't take a break while breaking. I'm alive somewhere in between, walking on one side of survival and falling apart completely.  

I pray to something outside myself while bleeding from the inside out to echoing laughter - colorful lubricant for the slow death of plastic bags and cellophane.

Hear me now where I feel nothing and meet me where the pain screams out for safety.  

I don't have an ending that is worthy of what is left.
Oct 2014 · 362
People Who Hate People
Kam Yuks Oct 2014
My face pierces the day greater than the beams through my dusty drapes that melt endlessly against the wind.

Neighbors are mowing again - or off elsewhere working.

I see the older lady next door leaving her house. She has a broken down old man who comes out to drive occasionally.

But she walks.

She's got nice **** and I can smell alcohol on her breath at all hours of the day.

I can tell she was the type who gets loud at the party when most other girls had gone home.

I know the type - the type who's presence motivated me to drink more and think less.

Now, I'm just a sad sack peeking out my drapes at the other sad sacks peeking out their windows at me.
Eat **** if you'd like. If not, well then - don't.
Oct 2014 · 314
Suicide in Stages
Kam Yuks Oct 2014
I mourn the loss of another unproductive day while drifting off to sleep every night.

I wake up in the morning and grieve for the past few hours of sleep that have ended.

Woefully **** and shower in contempt to the work that diverts whatever shred of energy I have to figure the path of shortcuts I must take to appear worthy of the hourly wage I use to pay my mortgage.  

More days than not, I will find a ghost task to steal away from work to nap heartily between reruns of Star Trek and bowls of cereal - the tomb where my legacy is laid to rest.

The hours seem glorious while I'm distracted from expectations and responsibility. If only I could carry on this way with no interruption.

Regret and shame settles heavily when the expectations and responsibility commence.

Medicine only takes the edge off. I'm in the same line. I read the same magazine covers to avert eye contact with the old folks who wait days or weeks trying to get insurance verification.

So this is what it's like to be a grown up. Late bills, missed appointments, and a disappointed spouse. It's the worlds longest suicide.
My writing is often a reflection of my latent adolescence coming to terms with my own limitations and the reality that my dreams lie outside my ability to reach them.
Kam Yuks Jan 2014
Most likely brighter than the moment when trees divide light beams between branches and leaves.

Sea foam mantra chant:
     Like an old song
     Like an old song
     Bring back what I've lost

I forget how to love by the evening.

Love paralyzes me in the morning when I awake.
Jan 2014 · 727
Just Write
Kam Yuks Jan 2014
Master of inaction complete with heightened self inventory, daily beatings, and advanced proclivity.

Machine boots stuck in the mud and walking slowly. Tough trudged - trotting wounds toddling septicity and self inflicted brain damage with battery acid.

Living roach life - keep self image commensurate with meeting low expectations consistently.

Gradually melted down. That which overflows cools outside the cast. A shrunken face with blunt features reveals a repulsive bulk of damaged mass when the light hits it just right.
Petrified and subsequently emaciated publicly. Time spent best thoughts fleeting and discarded for sleep.

I'm unhappy and afraid. How about you?
Jan 2014 · 834
Broken Garbage
Kam Yuks Jan 2014
Is it elegance or ignorance? Subcutaneous subterfuge. Blanketed and varying slightly, insolvent and limited. Bourne amidst a social caste of wealth or not for you.

The reigning victors make the rules. Life is a habit, not a reflex. To learn I must clear my mind of unnecessary clutter and make order within the hoard.
Jan 2014 · 901
View From a Casket
Kam Yuks Jan 2014
It's a shared pain that shifts weight as denial grows. Each of us has suffered the grief of loyalty unreciprocated.

You held my faith as I held your hand. Your grip loosened and like salvaging a favorite paperback book, pages slipped out individually until an empty shell met back to front.

That shared pain is called to fill in the empty spaces that naïveté leaves. The weight becomes a burden on those of us who expect more.

There is no resolution for betrayal. I lock my fears up tight and covet the pain.

You can see the ones who shoulder this burden in the warm grave of routine, going through the motions of daily life without a smile or by putting off life's responsibilities for the sake of blissful sleep.
Dec 2013 · 999
Or something
Kam Yuks Dec 2013
Not just sort of okay. The ice melts and freezes faster the second time.

I've seen it.

Few words mean everything in a world that doesn't shut up. The enemy knows you better than yourself - it's you, with an objective view. I can crumble my tower quicker than any studies conducted have shown, but I like to make my suffering last.

So cheers to my reflexive world shrinking efforts that make my body fatter everyday.
Dec 2013 · 1.5k
Hypocritical Coincidence
Kam Yuks Dec 2013
I like to talk **** when I write - so
Astro management
Secure the banished talisman
Martyrdom and ice cream
Melt of the establishment.

What's that? You don't recognize this as a style in your text book?
Doesn't fit inside your box, eh?

It's poetry **** face!

I'm not writing for a grade. This isn't meant to fit anywhere other than outside of my head.

Can't relate to me?

Chances are you've fit in with the normalcy of manufactured lies - I admire your blissful ignorance.

Go ahead and cite your work. I do this to get relief from the APA format.

What's it feel like for someone who ***** at living?

Keep reading, you're not alone.
My submissions were turned down recently. Just me criticizing the critic.  

Projection at its finest.
Dec 2013 · 484
Co-Morbid Vagrancy
Kam Yuks Dec 2013
Overtime and overnight my outlook changes drastically and manifests my inner restlessness.

Nothing seems okay.
You don't see the meaning in my words, well,
I hear you loud and clear.

Excuse me for giving a voice to the voiceless.

The message I receive:

If we are to be heard, let your voice fall into silence.

So it does.

They say I'm too old to carry on this way and I agree. I wish I had the grace to look content with life I waste.
Proof read this ****. Judge what you must and realize everything you see and think is a reflection of yourself. The good and bad.
Oct 2013 · 925
Daily Affirmations
Kam Yuks Oct 2013
Nothing brand new.
Instead, my mind creates the same day heavy chest weight. I'm tired. So are you. I hide away before mine shines through. You have friends with whom you share your plight. I keep none. I desire connection. I run away, walking slowly to bury my mood in solitude.

Hear these words - although its unlikely that you will even read.  This is all I have to show for my time spent alone.
Kam Yuks Sep 2013


Gaure... No, that's not right.
Guaranteed lecture representative melee. Corporate court circ-u-i-tous clever levels hand collapse, clasp, clapped, then - framed vainly.

Containers balanced with lost lids stored no/everywhere. Nothing matches like my socks save for the peepholes that allow my big toes the advantage of unmasked acknowledgement.

Pleasure packed and wrapped drugs bundled for international transport and - who wouldn't pray to get away from the homestead where lack of order piles clothing to be walked over?
I don't use folders immediately; I rummage through folded papers and file at a later date. Worn creases threaten to rip apart from pocket storage due to the humidity that has dried out once relieved from its sweaty *** prison.

This is just a way to hide my disguise from all the fears of inadequate processing of traumatic inquiry and post modern re-scarring from the old wounds that are ripped apart for lack of industry and self-worth ---> it's hard being home when your homeless.
Sep 2013 · 492
Of the Knights and Anger
Kam Yuks Sep 2013
Miserably morbid fault lines dwindled to an ending where leaves fall from the sky and off the earth. Spirit spaced out of panic with opalescent vapor. Tier  built fuselage billowing smoke from broken windows. Mad man protecting sadness with a coat of contrived aloofness. Eager solar detection vanishes from cut long and dirt laden fingernails. Paint still drying from the recent attempt to write the letters of a name. Broken branch protruding from the impaled veteran fallen.

Now you will grieve for the time you wasted grieving that was meant for saying goodbye.
Sep 2013 · 1.4k
Kam Yuks Sep 2013
Balanced barely - crept up slow. Narrow and steady, my chemical device needs reuptake badly. Bleeding - poorly bandaged wound walking, in memorial of my flight from mothers womb. Pain rainbow, gypsy vantage point through eyes of stained glass. Literally lost, fact facing smothered butterfly sleeping sound under a blanket of pain.
Paste this with a melted glue stick while it is still chunky and in need of nimble fingers to spread.
Kam Yuks Sep 2013
These words read similar to those of an adolescent stuck - questioning nature and the depths of inner hatred.  

I find it hard to believe that my time is best served within a second adolescence.

My dilemma: does my disdain for the excuse of adolescence stem from my belief of a phenomenological experience, or am I protecting a self-perceived inadequacy?

Standing between answers at the narrow tip of truth* is emotionally draining.

Some say knowledge is power, but I know better.

Knowledge is power for those with the strength to grow amidst the plague of humanities decay. For me, it is a reason to shrink further into apathy.
* I use the word truth lightly. I know it is controversial, but I don't believe in a universal truth. I do believe that truth is relative and that what I consider to be true is actually not true for others. I have found no one that actually stands in that opinion when their own beliefs are questioned, even amongst the individuals i respect the most.
Truth, popularly speaking, is a means for one group to claim superiority over another. This goes beyond religious and spiritual beliefs (think justice and U.S. intervention, and et cetera).
Although I don't think the practice of horrific acts is fair, someone considers themselves justified to carry these acts out. Who am I to say they are right or wrong. I would prevent such acts given the opportunity but I can't condemn them for who they are. The world is ****** up. **** your fairy tale. If tragedy in the most horrific form is wrong, the universe would not allow it. Just like we aren't suppose to fly like birds, unaided by machines. If we were supposed to - we would.  Again, the world is ****** up no matter who we blame it on and we all contribute to it. So, I guess I'll see you in hell - or not.
Sep 2013 · 1.6k
Markham Bandaid Sandwich
Kam Yuks Sep 2013
Convent detour
Covenant deviance
Context raconteur
Sterilized meat threads
Over deviled straight legs
Sharks breath beast head
Left alone - best unsaid
maybe off better spread
way out
O--- Rrr - way dead

concave bird chest,
shock waved cheap threats,
threadbare leaflets,
Modern day
Old hex

Big space and cavity baking ovens full of clutter extended hand and logic tempest temporarily teetered toward a soft chair and ice cold vanity savaged manually...
for that matter
My meds are working for now - words are fun again!
Aug 2013 · 625
New Note Butterfly Wing
Kam Yuks Aug 2013
Bring the ringing rain drop
Whole lot

Determined turtle vanishing green all my needs manifested scaring caring eyes viciously.  No acceptance can't claim existence willingly my ancestors have closed the blinds shrill speculative variety mixed amorous stenciled template.

Does it get better? It has before but I have no expectation. What I know is weak discovery and blankness. Lack of connection killing me before I'm dead my spirit drained and waning quickly. Stuck to couch cushions and 3 square don't fit there.

My only  hope is that my inability to accept/experience joy and lack of self worth does not inhibit my daughter's love for life.
Aug 2013 · 809
Zip Tie Freak Freedom
Kam Yuks Aug 2013
Structures are built, broken down, and decayed by the hand of humanity.
                  Collateral Damage.
Planning is carried out with the expectation of structural compromise.

Windows grant access into the pit of vulnerability. Scores and scores of people spend the bulk of their short lives inside the pit of an artificial stomach, chasing what cannot be obtained.

Relationships are sacrificed over plastic alters where the blood flows over disposable cups, collected from fast food restaurants and graduation parties.
Kam Yuks Jul 2013
Waiting for the summer heat to eclipse the somber thread of one day, an old man is gifted a brand new pair of sneakers.

Father, Son, Holy Ghost? The pinnacle of the "y" axis has paralyzed the saltiness of the old man's overcoat.

"Grand dad?" A young boy turns the corner and peeks in while the old man leans over in his chair to reach his feet and lace his sneaks. "You were breathing loudly and I was just making sure you're okay."

The boy continued, "cool sneakers grandpa."
This reminded the boy of a new student in his class who moved here from Scotland, or Ireland - he couldn't remember which. Guess what the new kid in my class calls his sneakers?"

The grandfather looks up and leans back, "he doesn't call them sneakers?" "Nope" the boy replies. "I would imagine he must call them shoes, or something like that."

"Not even close. He calls them 'runners'. He came into class one day with a pair of red sneakers and Miss Kerrington had him stand up in front of class to talk about them. She said that people in England probably call them runners as a nickname for running shoes."

The old man stood up with a groan and said, "That makes sense. It seems a bit odd, but I like it. As a matter of fact, I am gonna start using that to refer to all sneakers. What do you say we go for a walk around the block so I can break these puppies in? We'll stop for some rootbeer on the way home."

The two of them set out on their walk and the old man felt invigorated. As they continued, a light rain began and the old man said, "lets get to the store, this rain'll do damage to my new suedes."

When they finally made it to the store, the old man rushed in the door pushing his grandson out of the way. Upon his entrance his eyes met with the shopkeeper's. The shopkeeper's eyes shifted to the young boy coming in behind the man. At this moment the grandfather realized that he pushed his grandson aside in his haste to get inside the store and out of the rain.

The shopkeeper turned his attention back to the grandfather who shrugged his shoulders before gesturing to his feet with a smile and said, "I'm breaking in a new pair of runners. They're not gonna dry off as easily as he does."
Kam Yuks Jul 2013
Continued questioning of the unlovable hatred; my life's work is appropriately - indelible. These words are testimony to the conflict between who I am and who I wish I could be---

But...  my understanding of infinite possibility seems to end while considering the black and white world that I create.

This dulling of experience is like the smudged remains of my most interesting work scrawled in pencil between the pages of old notebooks and scraps of paper.

I will chisel my own tombstone with a crayon frozen in dry ice.
Kam Yuks Jul 2013
A small furry tummy grows with pride and recognition. The day is new like fresh air and baby lungs. The trappings of usual experience have gone unnoticed with each wayward smile and shared glimpse.

Is this a dream?
What is real?

Silence guards haunting stories with latent thoughts streaming uncontested by a busy mind. If there is truth, then what is humanity? Who am I?

Do you feel ashamed too?
I'm not the leader I once believed to be back then.

I'm more machine now then ever before - lacking substance, strange entangled, my very best worst friend.
Jul 2013 · 449
A Grim Reminder
Kam Yuks Jul 2013
Polished golden ivy glimmers and shines light on the travelers eyes. What's to be expected of something that was once believed to be unattainable?

Fragile voices crack - birds sing in the distance - dead flowers slumping somewhere in a vase have long withered after the water has evaporated and the love that left them there has gone forever.

Painted pictures - canvas torn - dusty guitar with broken strings - old newspapers piled by the door and holes in the wall from fits thrown with sobbing tears.

Thoughts gathered through sad and scattered memories - I found your old journal in a box today.
Kam Yuks Jul 2013
My meds don't work and my therapist hates me.
My friends have given up on me after years of unreciprocated attempts to connect.
I lack the energy and drive to live productively most days
Although I do not agree with what they do -
I envy the commitment and determination set forth by
serial killers.

It is difficult for me to enjoy art nowadays.
Not for lack of quality
it reminds me that I lack the ability
to create something that moves others
the way that art moves me

My message very rarely conveys the depth
of my experience.

I am lost mostly
I use these words to make sense
of what makes no sense at all.
Kam Yuks Jul 2013
The beginning of a new day, I want to be positive.  I don’t want to think about festering wounds that become overrun with infection due to a lack of self-care and bad hygiene.

I want to change my thoughts. I want to recognize them for what they are, fleeting and neutral before I trap them within the musty wharf of my psyche.

I want to believe in a god.  I want to believe that something is somewhere that can redeem the involuntary nature of existence. Something that balances the horror of ******, starvation, and ****; or the parents of a missing child who are later asked to identify the only remains found – a decapitated body eerily preserved by the abnormally frigid temperatures lingering long after the advent of spring.  

I want to know beauty as much as I know disgust.  What redeems the isolated ending of someone that no one will ever remember?  What justifies the lives of those who knew nothing but defeat, who weren’t heard, or who suffered the rejection of humanity in spite of the deep desire to feel accepted?  Save us from existing without ever knowing the victory of achieving an intended goal with self-will and perseverance.

What about the countless numbers of lives that have been extinguished and buried in mass graves.  How many people die that will never be remembered…  What meaning does life have then?  Were they here to be recalled as an obscure number?  Their whole life of memories – hope, fear, love, hate, despair, dread, loneliness, doubt, guilt, shame, and unique personality traits - all to be remembered as one of the many who are not remembered.  

Why must I fool myself to find contentment? Not everyone is able to see the silver lining. Must I only know the defeat of a man who could not overcome the prison of thoughts in his mind?

Do not mourn me because of a lost familiarity.  If that is all I am then you will forget me soon enough.
Jun 2013 · 689
Pinhole Universe
Kam Yuks Jun 2013
Today is governed by the cyclical nature of science and the god that has been created mythically as an axis point to explain our existence.

To what end do we find separation from  a reality formed from consciousness?

The over-mind - what has also been referred to as a god-conscience, spans the digits of numerical structure and maintains an order that is beyond our limited comprehension. Division then, is not separation; it is a change that alters what is divided. Everything falls within our finite infinity - knowledge and the unknown - our minds and its thoughts.

The inhabited earth is a manifestation of thought vibrating throughout the cosmos. Star clusters are fragmented thoughts that gather and gradually grow closer until an idea emerges from the detritus left by the explosion.

Each atom is made up of multiverses that are made up of more atoms.
Kam Yuks Jun 2013
I'm tempted early to banish recognition. How is it any different than the seasons with organically loose boundaries that allow categorization and names to differentiate?

I don't see anything so impressive about the accomplishments of the recognized few who feed off momentum and the short attention span of the masses.

"Money ain't a thing" In this world we can't afford understanding.

I know - that I don't know **** and that my path to enjoying life is exploitative to others elsewhere.

That's why I sit in old man Charles' backyard. He doesn't see well so I can use the space to gather twigs to stick together with homemade glue made from *****.
Jun 2013 · 412
Kam Yuks Jun 2013

Touched and melting cerebellum switched-
on-lever breastplate activated
senselessly on sight

Be my lover

Along the path of life blood
where day lilies grow and water fowl move slowly with their young ones in tow

Meet me in the willows
where the noise of day ends
where our hearts become one
where silence makes sense

I follow you my teacher - my love

Leaping from the wet diaper at my feet
I follow you because
I'm enslaved to the rhythm your heart beats

My world is too dark, with you I see light
You've brought my heart meaning and
saved me from night

And --

though I glow shadows,
stitching wounds that won't mend
You are the only one I want to be with
from now until.......

                            --- ---
                                              For Audrey
Kam Yuks May 2013
Likewise vanished and collapsed to a destructive state – weighted space spreads across unevenly but equally sequential in relevance to the make up of your matter. For the crossing falls closer to that which floats up, or burrows down. Following the line of least resistance when gravity can be considered a burden.

Onward with the dead bodies floating in and out of our solar system. ****** victims with cracked helmets dancing together in an eerily serene motion where they follow sonic waves from this way to that. These are the new beginners whose marrow will travel to worlds yet undiscovered.

It is the equivalence of the ***** that makes the journey into the birth canal to fertilize the egg. The once living, now dead, finding a new reason for meaning where the marrow finds placement on a mass of fertile dust.

New planets are made with a sickness. Spores and mold grow into rage for the betrayal that laid the god body to rest. Their concept of creation has no meaning.  Hatred fed by existence considered bad luck at best.
May 2013 · 453
Standing on an Island
Kam Yuks May 2013
Like the pond in the center of a forest. Deeper than the height of humanity stacked foot to shoulder.

It is too dark to see and too obvious to avoid. The world that I know revolves around my observations, created obstacles, and daily mental state.

I am not welcomed to the outside areas where the fringe lives. Nor do I welcome what is threatening for fear that it might expose my pettiness. My lies are easily justified for my secret life to thrive.

In the end...

I'm stuck inside myself looking out.
May 2013 · 694
Buyers Remorse
Kam Yuks May 2013
The draw of your body deprived me of my will and better judgment. Your eyes and ambivalence called me back two days and $ 280 later.

You weren't happy when I met you at first and I realized a pain in your heart and head that wanted to work its way out in words/gestures that were superficially meaningless but painfully loud to anyone with nothing to gain.

And I stood slouching with a childlike nervousness and feigned ignorance to your world that was unspoken yet obviously evident despite the fog of compulsion draped over my awareness.

I wanted what you were given. My behavior was already condemned the minute I picked up the phone to dial your number. I might as well finish the act so that I can continue beating my head against the wall to finally resemble the dark mass of human mess I strive so vigilantly to become.

You gave in with all my effort and the only thing I could say was that I'm sorry for taking advantage of the situation "I hope you have a good day".
Kam Yuks Apr 2013
Handled in a manner if care. Legions rising and falling with the tides. A mean and standard deviation of 0.07% calculated for access to the colored butterfly bones.

No longer allowed access to greater plains, the majestic overview became a barren landscape. Gravity became non-existent and the field  collapsed into the skies every night until it no longer resembled itself.

In memory, the sad clown traded in his wig for a hat, his nose for a map, and his shoes for boots. He kept the jacket as a reminder. Greater laws existed that were at once unknown/unseen. The laughter he heard no longer included him, instead it was generated by the sorry figure he had become.

Grim outlook and cave outreach for shelter needed. This man walked among the many backdrops in a dogged manner hanging on to the last bit of survival instinct that remained.
Apr 2013 · 859
The Slow Discovery of Fruit
Kam Yuks Apr 2013

-that a door to another world opened today. I caught a glimpse but my attention is so consistently drawn to the weight of what I carry; it is gently cradled while I rearrange the tattered wraps that keep it bundled. 

-Such a man as this committed to remain stuck in this world while crying for a change; the royal cynic shadow king, lazily draped upon a throne of ***** matter.

-If not the others who make up this world, who can I look to for the feeling of worth that I cannot find?

-I've decided to sit this one out a long time ago, you know? I keep the expectations low enough to match the efforts but my thoughts are too many to regard this as victory. 

-It just so happens that I live my life in a constant state of grief. I mourn the naïveté that once provided escape. I mourn the loss of hope, no longer comforted by the story of a distant day feeling worthy of life and just being enough.

-What I seek cannot be provided from the world I see outside. This feeling of worth is not attached or enhanced by lovers, friends, or family. No experience, accomplishment, object, or victory will satisfy my soul.

-In the end, I can only rely on myself.

-This realization is a new door and the first steps wandering through begin the path of holding oneself accountable for decision and action.

-Empty, unapologetic, and all consuming

-A discovery that all days painted in an unfavorable way have been set to the theme I've created.

-This path is not chosen by everyone, some never meet this realization. I run only to end up right where I started. Others deny and hide from the ugliness that resides within. The once empty pleasures of activity without substance will no longer do, but the rewards along the way are many.

-Some days I really can’t find my value. Some days all that I create turns out like sh*t. Some days I cry about my imperfections and those reflected by my family. Some days I don't want to wake. Most days I crave more connection while hiding away. Some days just don't seem worth the effort it takes to make it through to the next. 

Still sad – partly mad
Am I worthy of this life? 

If I wasn’t this would not exist.
Who the freak. I'm more ef'd up than most. It isn't easy but my path is to die living to this accord. Some people are closer than others. Maybe the secret is complete accountability.  Ah, self-actualization -- that is what I strive for.
Mar 2013 · 1.2k
Part 2 - The Killer is Born
Kam Yuks Mar 2013
Peculiarly different in the way of bad connection. The ease of bonding was compromised with the temperament that was borne upon me. Aren't we all worthy of love? Ive found the new love of my life, once so lost and directionless; I have finally found the life's work that is meant for me - by accident.

Driving lost and slowly, no - only a certain speed tears muscle from bone and sinew; the most morbid memory of death and the lead taste of blood from a crushed skull splattered with a hammer over and over again.

It finally happened. A dear crossed the road in slow motion. The entire mass was split into 3 sections as my vehicle plowed through.


At last, the meaning is discovered. The loneliest connection to life is death.

5 hours driving in preparation of new pleasure. The target must not be rushed. The life of an older person is ideal; they've experienced more of it.

Down the road again. Someone walking on the shoulder of a long stretching road; this is meant to be. Make a quick stop: ask for directions to something, somewhere. After disappearing around the bend, my 10 and 2 calmly exchanged positions over and over again to complete a u-turn.

Heart beating fast - Fire eyes... The walker recognized the vehicle and tried to step out of the way. I put the pedal to the floor board and ****** the wheel at the precise moment we met eyes for the last time.

No longer the flight of fancy that stayed my waking state with images and cravings; the storm has truly begun. Wind blown laundry on the line, caught in the flying droplets descending slowly at the end of a horizontal trajectory as the strength of wind died down once its range was finally met. The laundry - like me - care free and clean, soaked by the drizzle of an impending storm without the guidance of caring hands. I have heard about what is described as the calm before the storm. For me, the calm was only a foreshadowing of what I have become.
Mar 2013 · 787
Incalculable Birth Order
Kam Yuks Mar 2013
Setting: Black and white landscape, grayscale populace. Dull droning frequency progressively inaudible, machine type quartz operated movement from birds eye view.                •••••••• READ•THE•MESSAGE••••••••

Way -  too - much.

You're not spending enough.
You need a car like this.
You don't look like them.

Next Setting: The brain. Synapses and dendrites/stalactites and stalagmites.


Reading angels write hymns of summer sight, snowflake moonlight; life to no end, broken door still shut with moist eyes and dry lips. Sing to me from fallen skies and invade my prison mind.

Fever clutch shadow craving collapsed oxygen bandages soaked red with blood and organized by decomposition rate.

Capsized ship sunk mentality, leveled from the tarnished mirror. Scoop hand down for packaging cassette tapes neatly. No kneel working while busy foraging the soft shore for answers to the newer questions yesterday. Grains and globular surface melting molten and traveling through the path of least resistance.


Commence the countdown!
Kam Yuks Mar 2013
Shed light beam - scattered amidst shadowing December and shallow compliment of gathered mass.

Bright moonlight stills the whispering vapors where you once left beaten sneakers, football cards, and smelly socks.

This view from there where you once played your guitar; the hole in the screen remains where filtered smoke poured out the window from the bubbling drag of natures antiquity.

Science was only existent in an ancient alchemy.

Laughter came easiest while dreams remained bountiful and attainably tucked in the future projects folder before collecting thick layers of dust beneath well wishing and inaction; just feed now for the annoying perpetual adolescence that holds me down with regret.

Weighty concerns finally crept up slow and sneakily like a strong dose  of LSD on a
school night.

Laughter becomes tears. This weight is mine and can only be carried by me. Why do those that I sought for direction seem so lost? Who am I if not the one who walked in the room?

No one but me. Only I can answer that. The answer comes and goes. Heartbreak can shatter an ego like nothing else.
I still love you all.
Thank you.
Forgive me.
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