Does the booming club music drown the sound of your sorrow and conscious?

Take flight, you contagion!
Go forth and infect the living.

Turbocharged

Go press your gaping mouth breathing mongoloid maw to your own ******* and blow.

Fibonacci Fantasy

Did I ever tell you about the psychedelic trip I had where I shrank down to the size of an atom and explored my body from the inside like a new world? One vivid part of the experience was where I was driving a red blood cell through the arterial interstate. We were flowing through the tubes like a pack of wild horses splitting off at each exit ramp. I remember how beautiful it was that everything was transported from a central, omnipresent place. I saw how as I grew, my cells expanded from every direction like the universe, cultivating the in between spaces from smaller universes. A perfectly planned miniature world. It’s the same thing at the atomic level too. Just a different scenery. Solar bodies act the same way as inside your body. The world is the collective consciousness of our dna. Trees and cars have hearts and pump fluid to a rhythmic hum of Fibonacci.

1 problem at a time

Rock climbers call routes up a sheer cliff face, “problems” because when you are up in the air, ***** to the wall, your next move is your next problem. Now that’s poetry.

High peaks

Like a tick,
I ascend the backbone of the great mountain.
At the ridge, I feel the sun,
Scorching its way through my retinas,
The smell of singed hair.
My skin shifting under the weight,
Of the powerful magnetic force.
My gaze shimmering against the waves of hot heavy gas.
The air, thin with oxygen, is rich with euphoric energy

There’s a nostalgic feeling; that childhood giggly high of jumping in rain puddles, and building blanket forts. Why can’t that rhapsodic delight stay?
Where has that feeling of fullness gone?
Where can I find that feeling again? That feeling of being at the center of a perfect universe. That feeling of staying up late with my best buddy. Where can I buy that?
Nobody can buy that.
I know where to seek it, but it always rips my heart out when I get too close. It’s an addiction. I don’t know what’s worse, one quick knockout punch, or the slow, dull, ache of a wound that just won’t heal.
****, it hurts.