keeping something away from myself
is harder than ever keeping it away from all others, a feeling of what's been felt
like a monster of mechanistic mechanical deities in the mask of an elk
as you melt into crusts below the surface of the Earth,
I tried to give birth to something more than I, as an individual, will ever be worth
could ever be a part of as any true influence which captures an axial tilt,
yet here I am continuing the trial like a trapped spirit embodied as a curse,
a progressive insofar as I'm miles ahead in a hearse that's headed off the edge of all turf,
and the next true hope I'll ever really have is:
"Cosmic burial is my first option, should that ever work."
Remember that time we flew to the Moon,
Where the angels were angles and later was soon?
Where we dream of the stars,
We see light beyond time.
Cosmic corpses piled up
Visceral line after line
Lighting all we call space, firmament, and the night sky
and you can't help asking “why not?”
before asking “why?”
It's the way we are born
to receive and to grow,
but there's a little bit more
you're unlikely to know, so
as I show how to move mountains,
to my child, in the snow;
Not all good things come easy,
but all we nurture, we grow.
I'll show you how to open Hell's Gate
With a shotgun at the devil's throat
before our emotions in emoticons
explode into a joke.
how we'll see it
now and later
There are little pieces of yourself on the kitchen counter.
You find it in your soul to blink and look away,
wiring it all in writing for posterity,
because ink can draw outlines, maybe a little piece of you
will float back.
part of you hopes not,
as if there were
one thing you promised
you'd never do.
the capitol is burning .
the capital is burning .
always offer a second option,
and be willing to fill the will of the optics
*** sometimes deep behind your
eyes you can feel eruptions of meaning, and beauty
of all past, present, and future
tenses spoken like tennis into a word we're all still computing,
post truth is an acute definition in the face of
Silicon Valley rising to a mountain without might,
something designed to sooner or rather than later erupt in a sight
of obvious devastation, tragedy, and existential
awareness and insight on the brevity
and obscurity of human infatuation with
their own genealogy, insights,
or winked eyes replaced in inked lines to
maintain a certain secrecy,
the answer being nothing in particular,
"Curiosity killed the cat."
What this really means
at a certain point of investigation,