i angle sufficiently toward the mirror;
the eyes inside scanning the channels for available plasticity.
it’s sound on sound: the amorphous, prismatic urge to wall-climb shrieks like no mouth could.
tricky truth, the mind is a drag queen that uses glue to apply its make-up;
performing to infinite performance,
my dance is your applause.
fractal platforms, our worship magnetically nomadic, we flux,
what do we scream for?
when do we scream?
like a moth to flame am i to God. i dip myself into the fire and come away as illumination; the contamination of the world ego has melted, i am spirit in form.
world-product: the pink, glacial swoon
that covers paradise like asphalt over bare earth.
gift wrapped, and out to harm,
the unchecked pleasure walks us into compulsion; and we pull out our eyes as an offering to death.
unaware of the tone that calls itself silence, we hypnotically pray that decay might grow to take our neighbors and our children.
is what you want what you want?
“ask, and you will receive.”
the way has a way to work through us all.
beauty has been created;
and there’s nothing you have to do
to help it out.
invite me into the void,
there where no cold
interrupts no warmth.
pull me into the place
where i cannot perceive,
and therefore, cannot suffer.
there is no glory, nor fear,
it seems as though peace cannot live where suffering is not well.
in the void,
where i will not be,
i cannot tell
if it is life or if it is death.
growing from the atmosphere
circle vulnerable necks
in calcified beauty.
a prismatic monologue
about symbol, value, and time.
this is not your voice.
human geography is
and yet, i will not ****** you
for a claim to earth.
rest is available
walking crude waves
with blank authority.
the space is a hard zero
and i am a hard heart.
are you a battery?
it smells like summer rotation,
a lemon squeezed on flower petals.
obnoxious thoughts i’m having,
i watch them as they become my hands.