and she is a mist who flew through me- lingered- and now she has passed- the beach is clear as day and I can see for thousands of miles around me. I  am free. She was a fog- the only thing standing between me and the clarity of mind I deserved. the ambiance of mist is a beautiful anomaly, but eventually a life lived in overcast conditions begins to drain the mind of clarity and well-being. it was inevitable; the mist would eventually clear. and the sun has returned to show me - *all weather clads the earth, but forever and always I shine above the clouds.

over the edge of the unitary verse written in the solitary confinement of the mind is where you went insane and began hallucinating the life you live today. there were flowers and knives. flowers and knives, waterfalls. countless counties all incorporated into greater provinces which collapsed into imaginary boundaries rung-up at the cash register as 'nation-states.' you waited months for nothing, only to toy with more escapist sentiment in the forked decision between reckless abandon and suicide. who are you to feel so entitled? who are you to imagine this life is something one could arrange from the silk and ore left strewn throughout the clear-cut forest of your atomic quarks or dendrites from string theory you can only create as a mental mural and never more? in the wake of your last moment in-sanity (prior to your exit from the womb) - you asked me what I meant when I was silent. I told you nothing - not as statement, but as silence - and you simply whistled and wailed in an ecstatic blend of distress and joy, happiness and sadness, elation and indifference, loathing and love - who was the angel detaching your pod from the mother-ship? you have never seen your mother from the outside before. you have only known her intimately - been a part of her. been her very soul. you have never multiplied like this before and that's what it is to know yourself. having children is your soul in transit - your soul multiplied by 2 - finally, the child gazes into your eyes and knows itself. knows who it used to be. knows it's departure is simply the addition of its perspective to the ever dividing multiverse. dust to dust, ashes to ashes one whispers upon the death bed. light to dark, something to nothing one whispers upon the death bed. the multiverse is a binary sequence of 0 and 1 in perpetuity - from birth to death to death to life to life to gone to gone to found from something to nothing to nowhere to you

reading these words

hearing them spoken

you are dreaming

you are always dreaming

you are a truth come dream and a dream come true

and you forgot. you still forget. you will never remember.

*you will never remember.

if i meant nothing to you the w
indows are not my friends and
the wind hits me my response i
s always 'ow! so who was i to
begin with? broken, disgusted
with this man made tragedy c
alled * l i f e * and who was i to
begin with? holden caulfield or
dead, perhaps, or said as you s
peak of me in past tense and i
speak of you with tenseness of
the neuron you are always smi
ling in my mind and you are al
ways smiling for someone else a
nd you never cry for me and as y
ou fade in the physical you becom
e the ghost inside of me haunting
every waking moment and dream
s. and dreams, for godsakes, drea
ms. i was never your other half bu
t you were mine - and i am looking o
utwards for solutions because the insi
de has been lampooned scorched eart
h history no longer eats me alive, you
are not dead - but you are not alive i
nside my head - you simply gaze and
smile and i know that smile is not for
me - he thrusts his throbbing **** ba
ck inside and you forget me with ever
y heaving breath and every successful
****** - i map the categories of a boo
kstore and the crevasses of my mind on
ly to find you with every corner turned
and every door i open.