x

What happens to your name
After it is written down?

Does it fly to the dead and remind
Them of the beauty they have lost?
-or-
Does it travel the world slipping
Poison in to the cups of little tyrants?
-or-
Does it blow from town to city driping
Glue in to the eyes of racists?
-or-
Does it turn in to grass
Where grass is needed most?
-or-
Does it hang from a chain
In the shape of a cross?
-or-
Does it fall in to a poor mans dream
Sparkling like a stream of gold?
-or-
Does it sit by your side
Watching you grow old?

What happens to your name
After it is written down?

electric impulses knaw
at nubs formerly known
as finger tips,
worn down to bits by
the desire to drench
this world with one
simple thing that may
or may not be
everlasting

i'm in search of
a replacement for
flimsy false hopes
and finicky heart pokes,
for flat lined finite
chopped up bits
flying up nostrils
in hysterical hits

even escapists smack
walls from which
they can't slither
through silently,
walls covered in
mirrors full of
faces fueled with
hostility

all the faces are
my own and it's
time i find some grace
before i finally
pull my last astonishing
escape from this place

perpetually human,
romanticizing the madness
of a world that's come undone.
oil paintings of the sea
hang upon the walls of our minds
and we marvel at the sorrow
mimicking beautiful colors.

cryptic fingers stroke our egos
and tell us that we will persevere,
that we are the ******
of evolutionary prose.
lunar rays beam down on us,
shrouding us in a gentle glow
and we almost believe
that we could be infinite.

What's going through my head
I could never tell you
Because like most things in this world
They are just better left unsaid
But if you must hear
I'll tell the tale of love and grace
Or, perhaps, nothing of that place
Because my mind is filled with fear
Of all the things nobody should ever hear
While it shoots down to my perception
It's trying to become something like perfection
At its best, it's wings will soar
And the vibrations of its movements will give you chills
Then it takes off with you struggling atop its back
And tries to teach you the secrets of the hills
How up and down they form a *****
That science tried to put into logic
At an incline of x and a height of y the hill reaches this point at xy feet in elevation
Yes nature is nothing of the sorts
That can be solved in a complex math equation.
Nor is it of the sorts
To be tampered with
But we do
And nature is nothing of the sorts
To be carelessly wasted
But we do
And yes nature is a gift that should be showcased
But we don't
And as I'm straddling the back of this horrible creature from my mind
Flying through this world and making illusions in my eyes
To see the way it wants me to see
With fear, despair, and some mutant mix of both that I can't quite explain
There's nothing more for me to think
Except the thought that we've ruined
What's been given to us
And that what our future generations will find
Is the mess we created out of our freedom
And the remnants like a party once its over
All this garbage we simply left behind.

Slithering silently
entering
between blank spaces
of fragile fabric
of fiction
and real reacting
shivering
skin
it slips in
an idea
between dreams
daring
like an unseen hand
unanticipated
unstopped
And it floods
the mind
with irresistible
insisting
persistent
images
irrelevant to reality
but real
nonetheless

I've fell into a dream
Nothing is what it seems

Shrouds of clarity tear my senses apart
Where am I, why am I here?

A path illuminates and down I go
Seemingly into the rabbit hole

Visions stir inside
Colors flood my mind

Suddenly I awake to my reality
Or is it still a dream

Lost in my reflection
Stranded in my introspection

Is this all there really is?