Inside this mind once spoken for

I surrender my will to despondency

My reality laughs

offering up souls full of toys for misappropriation

Now I slide down to the vacant side

hoping to sit and watch the time

I know this place well

kicking rocks into the void

I grow weary waiting for impact

Life left me jaded by noble fiends

hate and spite for consumption

I've found it exhausting

after all

Hatred stems from fear

and I am terrified.....truly

Not only by the lack of pause reflected on so many faces

or by a societies unwavering commitment for disconnection

More so this notion I find in these quiet moments

When the eyes remain stationary

contemplating another boomerang trajectory

It's simply this

I've seen fear in all organisms

built into a disposition like DNA

Ode to a Poet(writer)
I know you,
All alone
4am is when you feel most at home.
I feel you,
Blank page, full pen,
I see you,
Looking at a page waiting for a tale to unfold,
Behold!
When it starts, it flows,
I am you,
Hiding away, writing my pain,
Escaping reality,
Day to day,
We are art,
In the way we move,
We are the dreamer's and believer's
Pad and pen in hand til our dreams come true.
C. Tyler

Voices fighting for space
I needed silence the most
I no longer recognize my face
I grow tired of seeing your ghost

Life told me I **** at making people happy

But I'm great at making them think

Clockwork declares my trajectory tenacious

Never has it seen such animosity towards existing

My sincerity is matched only by electricity extinguished for better imagining

My demons come from seasons spent consumed by a dripping faucet

Its my only consistency in this perpetual spill

The waves crash into porcelain

I hear it above everything

handheld seas and garbage bird dawns

I'm left wading with sharks

Emphasized spirals of sickness

My condition is nothing special

The mind fuzz declare my brain addled

I still pay the bills but always with a sane display

fearing the snug plug of an electro shock embrace

My imagination is measured in concrete stretches

0rgy arcades and gun powder prisms

liquor lounges with dim lit kings

I no longer linger here

I'm ripped apart by casual tragedy

Surely

This adaptation we consume will prove fleeting in its distraction

Thoughtful fiends ever receding

I choke when I remember there is no such thing as an innocent grace

My perceptions have always come in the depths they do

How would I know if they were truly askew ?

What is base line reality?

Everything is hilarious and nothing makes sense

I stray into suspension

Between despondency and awareness

between survival and empathy

I never claimed purity

I only have a brain full of obscurity

Still

So often I trip over shocked expressions

Limbs in rigid stances

Bodies rejecting mortality

Fine tuned urgency interrupted by the occasional sigh

I'm losing it and I don't have the answers

I am addicted to the spill

It is a fine life recipe for the mad

perpetual messes with no guesses on origin

only frenzied f*cks for forgetting
only hysterical means for elation

My muse lies in moments when the mind breaks

when chemicals mate and mistake lunacy for love

My best is when we clutch and deconstruct like dynamite

sighs and sickness mingle for comfort

My anatomy is made up of patchwork

but this smile is genuine

My tendencies often tumble into free fall

but I've learned not to scream

Sometimes I trip into transparency and I find you alive and well

But this mind is a stray and the name of the game is connection

no matter the damage done

The tools we use for sanity often times  perpetuate a prolonged disconnection

Its all so unsettling

when my first instinct is laughter

Some people just aren't meant for peace

Insect rivalries disrupt microscopic tragedies

Their tiny objections echo through the infinite


Muted chaos mingles with cosmic clutter

All is lost when stars prove sinister

like so many peepholes for a pervert god


Madness makes moves...

I see eyes reassemble for nonsense

Their only crime was observing

So many sad faces and I'm sick like a benadryl boomtown


Scenes full of primitive make believe

Haphazard halos and plastic queens

They disperse for stranger tilts

fluorescent hums and cancellation

Torn between vanity and breathing



Raised on R ratings and nicotine

Box forts in the junk pile

Yellow sky and rat king stances

Footsteps shrouded by loud speaker urgency

Where do they go?



Time runs low on another freak show

left in shambles by habitual slow motion

Pluck the remnants of distinction

pure intentions may rearrange promiscuity



We are only human

We are only a collection of frantic omissions

These distractions come potent

These observations become motives


Excuse this mind that remains remote

pondering sickness and considering ghosts


One last party for obscurity

One last dive into the spill

I never wanted your minds or graces

I only wanted this banshee to stay still

Sometimes

I feel as if there is something truly profound about love and hate

Both numbing in their exhaustion and best reserved for a proper patron

Both humbling in the fallout

The generations are numerous in this conviction for folly

Other times I feel its merely chemicals reacting in a hungry skull

Navigating lonesome anatomy into collisions for the sake of a secondary pulse


Still

A shortcut in my quiet moments...

When I discard my bulwark and realize I only thrive in seclusion

Is it lethargy or lunacy when I reject connection?

A tick of panic in my crowded moments...

When shoulders mingle in spaces fully saturated with gizmos and vain distraction

How potent is creation?

F*ck away the time and we may call it heaven

****** into chaos and we weave new homes for hurting

The scenes we preconceive are never as fantastic as the actual trajectory

When we come faceless and wanting

we may find time to ponder a perfect rotation

But once the whirlpool winks we can barely grasp the remnants of imaginary