the tense hypocrite;
king fool.
solipsistic proselytizer:
border ******,
big definer.
i do not endure.

i bow to hollow birth,
crying out
**** me! **** me! i deny being.
God, do you hear me?
why have you given creation away?
i want life, but not consciousness;
my psalm, i want nothing, but to be.

as a disciple of temptation
i die many painful deaths.
my treasures leave me,
they are capricious.
how could the hand of a ghost
ever grab smoke?

grace is an infinite harvest;
forgiveness is the water, sun, and soil.

i am buckethead; i cannot see the light.
a filter of dirt; the light thru me is darkness.

i am the word
stained by attachment,
a world prism i am.

i wish to be as the full moon to the full sun, but i am no mirror; i am a factory; i create death.

It is never accidental that we find ourselves living and dying.

We do all we can to ignore death. Ever claiming that we don’t belong.

— On the day it can no longer be ignored you will bargain,
bargain in abstraction a bargain that cannot be made.

You are obliged to ink long dried; your name signed with first breath.
There is but one way out; to give up your name, to submit to your destroyer, your creator, your master and maker. Admit you have no victory you can construct.

things have gravity when they stand alone,
but all is cohesive as one.

speak into my thoughts.
guide me along your will.
you are my animator; i am your hands,
your feet.
use me.