modern manifestation of Pandora's box all pent up
illogical is the scheme of the unnecessary complexities streaming through the streets
if its still pent up than what is this we hear now
if not the lack of sincerity in our propriety  and promiscuity
and if its still pent up than what terrors are in store
if not swirls of adjectives unimagined
fear is not properly capsulated in four letters
and the fear of understanding fear lingers and dances on top of our skulls
but we're toiling and boiling human existence promenade on
as if we don't know
that we're picking the lock on pandora's box
because our curiosity over comes our terror
and our faults lie in our finger tips
a vessel for the minuscule workings from our pineal gland

and we want change of our less than radical ways
so we take to slashed lines in our hash signs
imaginary walls for our feelings
for social acknowledgement
filters to play out the colors of our favorite days in ways that bring dismay when reality comes to play
press anonymity to our face as we tumble through pictures and rumble
from the upset mind to our side still continuing to fumble
with what they carry inside

oh but we're just a compilation
of
of minds gone mad
no
no of insanity gone blind
wait
wait just a combination of everything feared inside
but
but we're being picked and pried to peek out and greet every infamous lie

reality is pounding on the walls of your migraine
gripping the handles, your temples
fighting to get in again
and beat down your imagination
reality is the hammer that pressed the world
into a perfect circle
scared it to conform to the most universal undying form
but the hammer brought forth a sense of infinite unity
continuously circling the undying energy
of reality
of imaginary reality
of an infinite imaginary reality fueling our personal energy
reality snuck out of the box
slithered its way through the cracks and seams
reality isn't one form it would seem
its whatever it contorts and conforms to
to escape
to escape everything its sees in its way

oh but we're just a compilation
of
of minds gone mad
no
no of insanity gone blind
wait
wait just a combination of everything feared inside
but
but we're being picked and pried to peek out and greet every infamous lie

And im stuck in this room
insanity wrapping my brain like inescapable fumes
im trying to escape but they'll call me a loon
its such a small world i know they wont give me a break
but this inescapable tune
i just can't relate

intoxication of the soul is what im told
Im told it can't be bought nor sold
but rather found between the folds of another's soul
wait, please, please excuse me
what if the soul is caught in the box
fighting to get out
pandora's box waiting to be picked
by the handy lock smith
of life and insanity
but what's really the difference
in this careful contortion
but if caught how do I find this intoxication
everyone is talking about

Flirting with ideas daily
running through these facades of society mainly
skirting up to the offers to leave everything behind faintly

we're humanity we're society we're everything
we bind our limbs to things so we can cling
to a glimpse of something we could force to sing
but we avoid our dreams and most precious things
because we fear losing everything


to say in this place
making us a basket case
smearing the disappoint across our face
afraid to run in the race
that would lead us to a lace
of humanities untouched pace
its such a disgrace
we never leave this place
with such a familiar face
fearing the race
leads to a lace
of unfulfilled grace

we're humanity we're society we're everything
we bind our limbs to things so we can cling
to a glimpse of something we could force to sing
but we avoid our dreams and most precious things
because we fear losing everything

toy with the idea of running away
boy you and me we could take to a new sway
coy and brave in its paths astray
joy in belongings put away
deploy to a new place each day
boy you and me we can take to a new day
each day with no defined way
every day with paths astray

I consider minuscule matters in grandiose patterns that look like splatter
a splat of molecules and wit and love and precious oracles
and who is to make sense of the chaos in between these unseen things
but they rather sit and ponder these minuscule materials

silently, quietly, considering
gently plucking and picking the similarities
across the scenery of that in which makes no sense
inhale exhale
consider the mean
of meanings
and what it even seems

silently, quickly, mentally
snapping back and forth between reality and fantasy behind the mask
that protects me from you
and that and which over there
literally what this mask represents is all they try to expel you from

because the world is masked in frowns and desire
covering smiles and laughter that naturally breaks free from our skulls and lungs
but in this world we wear a mask to play hide and seek
the game we play so  hopelessly as children
and then so unconsciously as adults
whatever that is
the mask on the world only grows larger in strength
and its terrifying
human existence
and the unknowns
but that's the mask the terror and the horror
is painted on the mask
because human existence is nothing but beautiful
and im trying with every rhyme
and every winding turn in this compilation of the non existent
to show you and you and me too that the infinite beauty of this life
is indescribable
is unimaginable
is intangible
and this infinite beauty i call life
is you
in everything because nothing beneath this mask is not you
the mask that hides the earth
because you, infinite beauty and soul are the earth are the world

I loved a creator once
who would toil his work into his finger tips
making sure that nothing would slip
least of all his grip
on how everything mechanical
coyly flirted until their power was tangible

and his pride piece in me
is where he created his masterpiece
of gentle woven love and sorrow
with a layer of modesty
and a hint and dash of promiscuity.
he'd create in me all that he dreamt I would be
and reluctantly left me to be free

I loved a hippie once
and before the day broke
he'd challenge every note that was spoke
because it was all a joke,
a humorous play on the minds of earth's children
who couldn't find it to be in unison
with their mother constantly in motion

and he'd look to me
to be everything that people failed to see
to preach of love and unity
amongst and between all things
and then carefully unbound me to be free

I loved a genius once
who bounded from one coil to another in his head
before he ever left the ruffled sheets in this bed
who toiled with thoughts and ideas and equations
claiming it all laid in a matter of expressions
and he'd seal his lips and wouldn't let a word slip
of the matters he came to undeniably grip

but he'd bring it all to me
a home to foster his creativity
and stretched my lens on reality
beyond measurable means
to which he'd finally let me run free

but between you and me
I was never really set free
because though created and set to believe
that everything in anything was everything
it was still him and me

but minds that are set to create and consider and imagine
should fail to be captured
by human traits and flawless dates
and so I set them all free
to be everything they could be
and I hope that they see
that its always them and me
because we are everything

In rooms of stiff air, hold tight to your collapsing lungs
running out in the blissful, swirling air resetting your lids and taking to dancing
if you're still running, you're the lucky one
because we all tiptoe on the wrinkle between reality and fantasy
peeking over the cusp of brilliance
fearful of the flying dance on the open swirling air
diving into an unspoken fate
of landing indefinitely on either side of reality and fantasy

but did we miss the opportunity
to paint it all simultaneously exactly how we saw it
viewing each life as an absolute timeline, disregarding the space beyond zero and infinity is where we fault
using the transcendental space to paint your skies and life is where we make change
determining the merge from one life to another is subjective
so paint your new life today
dive into your excellence
fight for the dance on the open air under the grinning sun
make sense not of these words but of the blending of your next masterpiece
who are you today, if not who you want to be right now?

Friends, family, foes, and those of woe,
I invite you to dance this delicate tango with me,
right on the line of reality and fantasy.
It is here, that,
I invite you to the mad tea party.

Now, let us get one or two,
three or four,
maybe ten, one hundred, zero things straight,
you are not to be late to the mad tea party,
you are to set your time straight and do not stray,
but rather show up without delay at the time that serves your mental estate,
at a time that feels right with your bones,
now, now don't miss that time and don't be late.
We are of strict dress code here at the mad tea party.
You are not to wear what you saw on him and she and her and we unless it is of,
suitable expression to your situation,
you are to dress accordingly with your mentality,
nothing else will pass the test.
You are to act accordingly.
Do not laugh when not appropriate, and sit up straight when your spine tells you.
Do not speak when your mind is forced to be spoken.
Now, have we all straight.

I cordially invite you to the mad tea party.
Where we dine and wine and tell tales of time,
and rejoice on the words those delicately spoke,
and dance on the lines theatrically strewn across the room,
and sail across every last tale from you and he and yeah her over there too.
I invite you to the mad tea party.

I invite you tell of when you first saw the earth breath,
when the trees and the leaves set to dancing,
when you first heard the wind laugh at your grin,
and when the raindrops ran fearfully from the erupting sky.
I demand of you to tell nothing but that of truth,
and watch as the molecules in the air take to vibrating.
Take notice to musical clinking of the entities amidst you,
and take pride in the gentle stride of the clouds overhead.
Did you notice the flowers laughing at you,
in between the birth, death and rebirth in accordance with the sun?
Did you notice the flowers pull in their petals as they shyed from your step?
Take notice to the music and laughter around you at the mad tea party,
take great care with the feelings floating about the air, vulnerably buzzing from mind to mind,
before their decline and descent to rest their heads.


You see, it is here at the great mad tea party,
that we do not devoid you of the ability to do as your energy demands,
with the issues of time and dress and proper behavior.
It is here that we tend to focus on the earth and the breathing of the molecules and atoms  around you,
it is here that we go mad.
and it is here that I cordially invite you,
but before you make your reservation, please eliminate all hesitation.
You see the mad tea party is not readily accepted,
by the constraints of society and the binds of reality.
You see the mad tea party is misconstrued by masses more than just a few.
Those who long buried their soul look down on the guests,
for they are different than the rest, in that, they're welcoming,
into their soul the ability to go mad which is taught to be bad.
So before you make your reservation be inexplicably sure,
that you are in fact,
ready, for the mad tea party.

My breath heightened
It's just the same old grind I said
but the escalation of breath was undeniable
and suddenly my palms became frightened
No, no, no its just another night, nothing to dread
but your actions are just unjustifiable
beads of sweat begin to build,
and I can't deny the stress and tension settling atop my shoulders,
but, it's just another night, nothing to dread
certainly, you can't be dead,
and now the darted looks are starting to take place,
denying emotion is only for the skilled,
and tears are reddening my eyes,
but the skies aren't even beginning to cry,
and the sweat that built is ready to be spilt,
but no, no, no, those are the tears,
they've been building for years and now they're left to spill
but, its just another night,
there really is no need for fright despite my plight to take flight and set it all right,
for you, the tried and true, who opens the skies to be blue, for me
who can bring herself to see that you need to be free in light of all your plees...
but it's just another night,
and the bottle hits the ground,
and it's just another night,
unlike the rest that were in sight,
it's just another night,
of fright and desperation in the soul searching escalation,
it's just another night because nothing has ever been alright, any other night,
you just kept it out of sight like it was a special night,
but tonight...is just another night.

Oh, but please spare my head of necessities
of the complexities
that are but trivial and non-existential
to the pursuit of living and thriving,
not in a pool of segregating ridden paper,
but in a bath of mentation and minds wide open.

And please bite your tongue,
when the lick of a serpent dances across your taste buds,
when you wish to deprive me that of a young mind
and youthful stride.

I do not wish to be at one with your negativity,
I wish to flee and sprint from your gloomy, pessimistic stint.
Rather, I invite you to join me in the pursuit of creativity,
to strive to leave your imprint,
of sheer, requited positivity.

But if you will,
without a plee,
I wish to help you swing with me
on practiced words and the fleet from stability,
I wish to take you on a stroll,
through and into the soul,
of nothing less than a dreamer,
of a hoper,
of someone so desperately fleeing
from the necessities of the complexities.

I would tell you my story,
but then you just might believe me,
when I tell you of the cages and bars that I desperately keep myself pressed against,
of the voices that so desperately plague my dream,
attempting to leave laughter,
but fleeing with nothing less than a scream.

I would tell you my story,
but then you just might feel the pain,
of tear stricken cheeks standing alone in the streets,
screaming of hopes and dreams,
left alone in the sea of fallen aspirations and breathes,
swimming so desperately for a speck of land,
offering a hand of anything.


I would tell you my story,
but I love you and I wouldn't want you to worry,
that the mad binds of society would cease my limbs,
and tie me back from the grip of you,
that my mind might break from it's confinements
and come after you.

I would tell you my story,
but would you go mad with me,
or would you be smitten,
tackled to the ground by the essence that reminds,
that nothing is as dark as the tale
that you wish to embark,
would you reach for the positive,
in fear of the helpless bodies chasing behind you,
claiming of love and lust
but...


I would tell you my story,
but the mad man fears of discovery,
the brain wishes not to be unraveled,
and have pain and tribulation traveled,
the soul wishes not of company in misery,
but of embrace ever so gingerly,
to continue the warmth.

I would tell you my story,
but the fairytale is so much better,
dreaming of sunsets and warm sweaters,
dancing in the stars and running with the breeze,
but now,
I'm afraid I've told you my story,
and we've gone and ruined the glory,
of the long told fairytale,
of a pale vail,
and love, oh don't forget of love...
but you wanted to hear the story,
of a mislead heart,
passionately wrought and then torn apart.

I am a female.

I am in my early twenties.

I have naturally brown hair smudged in fake red and vibrant green eyes.

I am short with a baby deer walk.

I am a student.

I am a worker and a dreamer.

I am an advancer and an experience glutton.

I am a caffeine rush with a brush of sarcasm coated in a smile.

I am a music enthusiast with notes flowing through my bones and measures lifting my every step.

I am a note aspiration draped in wrong tunes and character.

I am a musician unborn.

I am a glutton for the melodies and rhythm of the world.

I am of a shadow generation desperately seeking themselves in each passing fad.

I am a product of the public and society, but am of the discarded bunch, tossed to crowded shelves for less potential.

I am a generation pent up in a box and I am making my break through.

I am of a generation with the potential greater than the last and the means for a voice louder then the rest.

I am a decade of pain and tribulations and of hope and progress.

I am a cynic and I am hope, I am a technological hub and a mirror of all that is to come.

I am the future, the present and the past.

I am representative of those left behind and those who ran full speed.

I am a dancer in the air around me, I am a writer of the languages I cannot speak.

I am an open book with blank pages. I am a magic observer and a culture absorber.

I am a student of the world and the land and the people.

I am a prophet of language.

I am a reader of words sealed in paper.

I am all that I could ever hope to be and I am all that I never wanted to see.

I am my mother, my father, my friends, and my peers.

I am you as he is he and we is me.

I am the product of my mother.

I am the lick at the end of your tongue.

I am the bite in your spite.

I am the twinkle in the glitter you spread.

I am the pocket sized rowdy mouse running about a world too big.

I am the offspring of my father.

I am the peace that was given a chance.

I am the notes dancing from  the end of a bell.

I am the back that never turns and I am the last shirt to give for warmth.

I am love and I am hope.

I am the looking glass of perseverance.

I am that nature that will not give up, until dreams are met.

I am radical and quiet all in the same.

I am me.

I am everything and I am nothing.

I am whatever I hatch for the sun's breaking day.

I am a product of the universe and I am molecules unspoken.

I am a voice and I am impact.

I am the change and I am the cause of the need for change.

I will be the dream, I will be all I hoped to be.