I am the mountain man. I am the shifting sands. I am the laughter through gritted teeth, I am the squint of concentration, I am the missing piece and the stone that won't roll. I am the Zeit Ghost. I am the Underwerewolf. I am the Pseudonami. I am not what you say I am, until I say: "I Am." I am the Red Sun Samurai. I am the Locomotive Provocateur. I am the bones of kings and slaves. I am the breath of the wind in the trees. I am the Electrocuted Interlocutor. I am the whip of the matador. I am sunken cities in the swamp.
I am Firestarter. Spark Guarder. I am the assembly line whereby the machine reproduces. I am capitulated capitalism. I am the captain of the sky ship to Ghost Country.
I am a natural amphetamine a synthetic homeopathic a cure for the sad curation for the lost death for the solid and unchanging.
I am the mask of roots. I am a treehouse full of books. I am the sword in the daytime. I am the Day Waker, the Cloud Shaker the Continent Unmaker, the Deep Laker the childhood of broken dreams and unbreakable boulders.
Half-slumbering in your living room. One eye on your joy, the other searching for answers to the unanswerable question of:
where did it go?
Fully alive, pacing the gravestones kisses to flowers in the new moon and a pocketful of reality checks.
Helping you let go of everything Holding you back.