Eyes closed
wild wind whipping hair
careless end of samsara
for seemingly centuries

take a peak
vertically, the world flies by
the ground fast approaching
my situation the same
but perspective changed

there's a certain feeling
that creeps up
through the hairline fissures
in your brittle bones,
on frigid hollow nights
at the bewitching hour,
when silent stillness descends
a muted film of
forgotten bittersweet memories
over the darkness.

and honey-yellow street lamps
cast ghostly shadows on the sidewalks, who
hold your hand in solidarity
as you trudge through
empty space,
and the dampened humming of the buzz saw
never really fades,
playing tricks on the music in your ears
spinning haunting discordant loops over
sullen sugar-coated melodies.

it's as if you've stepped through a portal
of time and space
where there is no singular destination
but transportation to the
eternal place
in you
where that feeling has lived
every time
it has arisen in the past,
where that feeling will return
in all the visits to come.

and the place is familiar
so you settle into the bed of nails
comfortably,
breathe in the sharp sting of ragged pain,
and float through the museum
of recycled thoughts
on angry waves.
reluctant transparency
plays its hide-and-seek game, and
you re-learn the methodology
of picking up the particles
and packing them
into steel cages
into cardboard boxes
into dusty attics
into black hole space ships -
sending them into the void.

the mundane madness
in the
mystic mirage of memorializing  mourning.

Ha! *** God? hahaha
You're a ****** 'god'!
a leech, a tick at best and
sure you've got a bright side
but those interlacing threads
that you so easily hid behind
prevented me from thinking and
from feeling and I'm sorry,
I wanted to like it, I wanted to, but
I'm thrown into oblivion
by this power differential and
I'm a suspended particulate
in space space space and
whether it's perceived or
imposed is rather irrelevant
and fully functioning as he
held me close and he
spoonfed me snow and
he planted sick saplings
between my ripe ribs and
he carefully twisted them
as they sprouted out
of my skin my skin and
somehow he was my...
my savior but
he suffocated me
with his kisses and
my neck was never long enough
to pull back from those lifesuckers
and my throat was always numb
from what he put inside me and
it's what keeps him happy
what makes him happy and
my lips would dance dance dance
around sharp shards the sharp shapes
of words but I would only chew on
cotton ***** cotton ***** and
they'd never fall but
my castle sure did
my keep sure crumbled
and he's a crippled
conquerer.
I was just
another thing
to have to him.
I was something to win

mouth syncing up digital brain,
electrically bounding the physical
with the ethereal analog bond
bound up and wrapped,
in fiber optic blankets,
secrets passing layer to layer
heard only by quadraphonic
receivers echoing out
into a singularity of conciseness,
confirmed by units of two

oh!
ohhh thank you,
thank you great body,
great god! s~h-e's got my soul
embodied in earthflesh earthflesh
grown from warm soil sacred soilflesh
and redriver lifeblood's lifemud is flowing!
flowing through treelike neural pathways
dendritically branching
branching out into my
starflesh vessel
and there's no sense
in wrestlin' with myself!
My vessel vessel is
embraced worldwide
from the inside
from the inside with mycelium!

Mycelium!!
and I am a mushroom!
I am a spore!
I'm a planet!
I'm a particle! and
I'm pumping away like
waves crashing on a shoreline! and
I'm breathing inward turnaround
outward turnaround chillin'!
maxin', waxin' and wanin'!
pushin' and
pullin' it through my sails
as I sing sweet songs of sunfalls
and moonrises floating and falling
over the horizon like a
crescendo-decrescendo and
I've got roots!

I've got roots that stretch
to the ocean floor and I've got
a thousand pound ethereal steel toe boots
and I am Drinking in the ocean and
I am drinking in heaven's Reflection.

I close my eyes to see and
I remember to breathe! to
breathe slow and I can see!
I can see the keys as
buzzing bees in the leaves
of the trees dancing with great breeze
oh great breeze!
sway swing sway sing
sing a song singsong, please!

breathe it with ease,
breathe it with eeease!

mmm

So speaking of the future
is speaking pure fiction
and speaking of the future is fun

but speaking of the future can be horribly misleading and speaking of the present can't be done

So speak love not worry 'cause it'll go down in history

'cause we're here to turn fiction into fact and fantasy into reality

and we're here to write our own story so read love write love not worry

and we're here to spin thought to action so think love know love don't hurry

and the speed of love is as slow as how photons perceive us to be moving...

O HEART, be at peace, because
Nor knave nor dolt can break
What's not for their applause,
Being for a woman's sake.
Enough if the work has seemed,
So did she your strength renew,
A dream that a lion had dreamed
Till the wilderness cried aloud,
A secret between you two,
Between the proud and the proud.
What, still you would have their praise!
But here's a haughtier text,
The labyrinth of her days
That her own strangeness perplexed;
And how what her dreaming gave
Earned slander, ingratitude,
From self-same dolt and knave;
Aye, and worse wrong than these.
Yet she, singing upon her road,
Half lion, half child, is at peace.

I have no complaint
prosperity that
the golden Muses
gave me was no
delusion: dead, I
won't be forgotten