It is not a matter of 'you' or 'me'.
When using your heart to truly see
The difference in things and worlds that we dream
Obscuring our true vision of reality.

Solitary thoughts linger on the solitude
Breathing in the essence your presence shifts tides, waxes moons
Reaching out I'm blinded by black light, a dark veil, a celestial hood
Shifting tides
Waxing moons.

Harp strings make hearts sing a melody reciprocating love and light
No hint of betrayal, from mountain tops we hail true love's plight
I become nothing more than a breathy wind in a sail, the sweet laughter of a child; sacred and wild
Whatever is suffered in cruelty, in lust, this gravitational pull was always a losing fight.

The theory of 'you' and 'me' is a false accusation
Our spectrum of existence can't survive without the love we ride on; our own manifestation
When your heart reaches out, mine instinctively does too
To mirror you
There is nothing more holy, nothing more true
Foreheads together, contoured ethereal bodies of limbo floatation
Loving without limitation.
It is 'We' who translate the most ancient of creations
And 'We' who move forward through the fire of temptation.

Why dwell on the past?
What is it keeping you safe and warm and comfortable?

BREAK OUT
FREAK OUT
At least that feeling of losing it is true. True to you.
And afterwards doesn't it feel so much better?

Like you've been swimming in crisp clear water, smooth and supple like the curve of the first plump breast you wrapped your eager hands around.

Or

Like the cleansing shower after an hour and a half of a 109 degree hot yoga session, after the epsom salt bath and of course a handsome sip of your libation of choice.

My skin and mind are alive with electric curiosity thinking about it.

The liberation of moving on from the past.
The difficulty in moving on--continuing your life while the scars never fade.
You do it because you have to.

The morning dew is only there as a reminder of how everyday can be a rebirth.
Never is the same dew birthed dwelling on the exact same solitary blade of grass, barely visible in the ebony chill of dawn.
The earth drinks up the moisture while what's left melts away into the universe, into time, and into nothingness.

How does this not represent our lives and the metaphysical melting of our yesterdays pains and sorrows?

What about regrets?
We hold on because it's easy to put the blame on someone else. It's someone else's fault we didn't make a change sooner.
Wait, what?

We're afraid of diving into unknown waters.
You don't have to hold onto the dark romance of your past.

Together, we can stay fresh.

It's been said once and it will be said many more times before this world is no longer in existence: the demons in our nightmares our reflections of our own lives.
Taking in truth and lies mixed with 6 billion differing perceptions can create one hell of a gruesome monstrosity, potentially unbearable to the weak minded **** wandering this rock.
This timeline is nothing but a river; constantly flowing and moving forward,
teeming timelessly along and never slowing for anything.
Existing with the only purpose of not existing,
but a vessel for us to keep track of events passing;
never to return to, but always to dwell on,
forever until it's memory is in existence of no living person.
The stark maddening darkness as well as the blinding goodness of the light; these things exist because we have given them the possibility to.
It is because of us that we give these ideas of dark and light the breath of life. It was here before our carbon based meat sacks arrived, causing changes that WE see fit;
ignoring the higher power that obviously will infinitely hold more importance than we will ever understand.
That's why we ignore it.
If we can't see it, it doesn't exist.

But if one belief--one single slice of faith perseveres among the unimaginable number of nonbelievers can change things; turn the tables, change history...


This timeless river of existence; why does it matter?
So we can be immortalized into whatever form or idea we wish?
To make a certain history for others to either never repeat resulting in insanity--or to repeat in hopes of reliving the greatness of others before us.

If all of our solid nightmares became reality; if 6 billion individual demons constantly existed by our sides becoming physically a part of us and breaches the mental barrier, exiting the realm of impossibility and stepping onto firm warm soil and sand.

What the **** would we do then?

The river never flows over the same rock twice.

Pour your brilliant light into my yearning mouth
The darkness is so consuming, so endless
Filling up every empty space between my organs, flowing with my blue blood from my heart to my toes
Nauseating and sickness is what I feel
Emptiness and incompletion
Black tears spill over from my eyes
My ears
My nose
It's an endless sea of black tar gathering at my feet.

I await the cure you will provide
The giant and flowing
beautiful and glowing
Masterpiece of your hand on mine
I can feel the webs clearing from my heart
The light consumes me
How do I have faith in something so new?
So I jump--faith guiding me
It tells me to be patient and trust what's right
Back into the darkness I go
Only to discover the light

Open mouth,

Exhale smoke rings of equations and formulas revealing answers only discovered with the liberation death brings
Disperse your arsenal of gray matter upon me
While I absorb your reality T.V. and high school science projects
Accepting an empty proposal
Negotiation always on your terms
You spit game with out passion

Inhale sentences of herbal essences--
Burning like open flame on my voice, stealing my breath
Never stumbling over mistakes or transgressions
Dominating any and all fields of study with which you choose to fill your brainpan
I submit unwillingly in this prison,
in this prison for eternity.

How enveloping
This overload of pumping adrenal glands, excreting testosterone and overzealously prejudiced masculinity
Lack of understanding for femininity and sensible comfortability

Close your eyes
Heavy lies the head that wears the crown
So content atop a pillow bursting at the seams with $20's
1, 2, 3.
Knife. Fork. Spoon.
Drifting
Hundred dollar bills bouncing over the moon holding the cow's hand as you count your materialistic disguised happiness.

I can't read your poker face
I can't keep up

In the midst of it all
Countries leaders condemning their own people, the people  who are forced to trust him.
The world is just destined to constantly repeat it's mistakes in the complete annihilation of the human race.
If you want to start over so bad, **** yourself, not hundreds upon thousands of defenseless people...

And YOU...
You think you can take my friends and family you've sent over the big waters and force them to fight a war for a government they don't even respect?

Who do you really think you ******* are?

It's true with one silent stare of deep dark eyes, 
He looks back, just to make sure she's real
He knows with one touch of her hand on his
Accidental
He allowed himself to feel something again
Captivation
Curiosity

Strange how we let simple emotions govern our life.
Major decisions; decided on the precipice of love or hate.
Pain or desire. 
or both.
Life fueled by the highs and the lows.

Manic.

He must love himself a good amount. He feels like he's always on the search for someone to love him again. 
Subconsciously.
"Who isn't looking for love?" he ponders
"And when they aren't, what are they searching for?"
"Can i know the secret?"

A blast in the distance, so great it's felt before it's heard
A long line of weary walkers--the death march

We don't stare down into the eyes of our smart phones anymore
OH NO
We don't obsess over silly things like that anymore
Not since our world was taken over

They said it would happen.
How many times did we hear about threats
How many times did we see the signs
How many times did we ignore blatant messages, distracted by scandalous media

I don't need a love like that
From individuals, to a single organism
We move onward with bald heads and heavy hearts, stripped of individuality and dignity, struggling to carry our guilt and ignorance.
The pain of hunger consumes all thought as we're lead by our new shepherds into this mysterious room.
This room containing vents, and drains in the middle of tiled floors, and hooks hanging like decorations from the ceiling and walls, and a smell of burnt fumigated flesh.

There is no 12-step program to recovery where we're going
OH NO
Where we're going there is no journey back home
There is no path to redemption
Or forgiveness
OH NO
Where our final destination lies, we feel
Only the licking of Lucifer's flames on our skin
Only the welcoming mouths of alligators lurking in the depths below
Only mind-wrenching pain of our guts being torn from our bodies while we're still very wide awake and very much alive.

But we were never free.
Not really.
Not when my privacy is being ***** by my fathers.
Not when my speech is being stolen from my throat
Not when my state is policed and quoted.
Not when I cannot marry my own *** without life or death consequences.
Not when i cannot make decision regarding my body without being reprimanded or condemned to hell.

And especially not since i look like you.
But I have a secret.
I am metal on the inside.
Devoid of your human emotions and crippling urges.
You never would have known, if I hadn't told you.

But let's face it--gullible is written on the ceiling. And you have been my sheep for longer than you will ever realize.

Survival of the fittest.
You thought you were still free because the only thing separating us was a vast amount of beautiful blue void?
Distance is only the amount of time separating two points.
What made you think we wouldn't make our way to you?
You'll never survive us.
As dark droplets fall from the sky, the taste of copper on your lips--
You'll die how you lived--unidentifiable sheep in a herd led by corrupted robotic suits, forever following the bread trail of an empty promise.

it happened without having once suspected it
that sound
that smell
that familiar convalescent appearance

smooth, sweaty, searching
gasping, clawing, speechless

it happened to them before
there's no escape this time
salvation was never enough
it was the yearning to finally
f       o       r       o        n     c       e
be home again


and we say HEY! you've turned me
and they say HEY! you've turned me
into the bane


it happened without having once suspected it
they did it to us
the shame
the horror
the curse

how long before we can finally be home
and face our bane?

Already so much distraction
You're always so close
Yet still just out of my reach
Like trying to catch smoke
You're a freedom flyer

"She dreams of love
He lives to run"

You can't contain a snowflake and expect it not to melt and evaporate. This is the science of nature, and thus is the nature of life. However unwilling to alter they seem.
Communication is key.
It's been lacking
My patience waning
The edge is near but I'm not weak
I refuse to succumb

There's little more satisfying than winning a fight. But how do you expect to win when the referee is a liar?
A thief of truth
So cold
Too proud to admit defeat
The only war being waged is within the self-his self.
The day is coming upon us that we will not fall
But rise in the glory and beauty of love
Where the

Loneliness in
Ourselves
Value
Everything

An ethereal utopia
A world where there is no defeat
A world only big enough for us
A world where you will let me set you free

Where nothing is forced but as natural as the mechanics of lungs created to subconsciously allow our meat suits life.

The grass is greener on the other side,
so they say
I never minded the bright stains
or the sight of road **** remains.

You get older and the stains morph to chains
and rips
and whips and cheap tricks.
Cigarettes and dice
and I'm still learning to tie my kicks.


Years later and the front door's pounding
waking up without recollection--
I ease and tip-toe without sounding
off any alarming
action
that would cause reaction
and astound
forcing the men in suits to over-zealously bound
over the couch towards me
and unrightfully
clap on irons and exit the engrossed hostile environment
I've founded in this unconscious establishment


Now I lie every night
holding an ongoing staring battle with the concrete stone above me
and dream of the tricks
fly kicks
druggy flings
and the bright green stains on my knees.

Pumps. pearls. punks. posers.
how can you run around town stealing from self-righteous loners.
The last to get chosen in a neighborhood game of ball.
Why continue to fool yourself, when all along you knew you were destined to fall.

What if the waters became too much for its containment.
We have witnessed
what the end result of the bird leaving the cage--
bird so free, falling into oblivion--dying,
not accustomed to the world
outside of years of being contained behind its entrapment,
its curse of a cage.

Work to live, live to work.
What's life without passion?
Why suppress such powerful urges,
when its what will cause us to find something pure,
****** prowess, and the breath of life.

How do you suppress something as other-worldly
and all powerful
as the oceans and streams
of our memories.

You are the only one holding yourself back.

never full enough
say that you believe

in the purest of convictions
you see right through me

until i crash and burn into
a cavernous dump

deeper
deeper
into a cavernous comfortable contamination

And so I become a fly on your wall
with my blood-stained ledger
the price of my self-loathing,
and curse of my curiosity.

Hear the truth
Trust your lumpy gut instinct
These suits are depressing
But I crave to know of the corruption.