The irony of my life:

I don't want to socialize,  
yet I want to be recognized!

I feel so alone like I'm trapped in my home.
and these thoughts in my head tell me I ought a be dead.
I ******* **** at this ****.
"No you don't you're just tired."
"Everyone loves you, cant you see you're admired?"

But I don't believe what I conceive in my dreams.
So you must be a liar.
This isn't how things in this life should have been.
My soul is on fire.
This isn't how things in this life could have been.
My soul is on fire.
But I don't believe what I perceive in front of me.

Sands of time made from liquid-solid-matter.
People flowing like atoms recycling motions.
I know in my mind that things don't really matter.
Climbing the planet and mapping the oceans.
I would loose my mind if my brain got any fatter.
People flowing like atoms recycling motions.

Another country closes another border,
this is a perverse reverse of the New World Order,
every headline reads the same thing,
the coronavirus has gone viral,

“Stay Calm & Do Panic”,
nothing is under control,
as if we need more encouragement,
to be more paranoid and less social,

mind racing as the world its put on hold…

“Practice social distancing.”,
“If you feel sick self-isolate.”,
“Go home, stay home, stay safe.”,
“Handshakes and hugs can wait.”,

national emergencies are declared,
caught off guard no one is prepared,
call in the National Guard,
fear is a powerful factor and everyone is scared,

well,
I’d rather die together than live alone,
so I go out but find no one around,
so now the only way to connect is through my phone,

meanwhile back in reality,
only 5,000 people have died globally,
while 18,000,000 die every year from heart disease,
so tell me what’s really going on,

broken hearted the fix is in,
the new monster is CoVid-19,
it’s our generation’s 9/11,
the parallels are frightening,

and I don’t know what the heck to do,
so I just write these words as my message in a bottle,
which I send off from my island,
hoping it reaches you before the day after tomorrow,

as another country closes another border,
this is a perverse reverse of the New World Order,
every headline reads the same thing,
the coronavirus has gone viral…

∆ Aaron Lux ∆
March, 2020

She was in the corner,
     Not wanting to be seen.
She was so invisible,
      Yet not unseen.
No one saw her,
       Yet she was the centre of the attention,
She kept to herself;
An antisocial babe.
She was visible,
Through her invisibility.

Lost,
amongst the chaos, caught outside with a long way to go,
calm,
within the center, inside everything comes 360° full circle,

call it a circle but it’s more of a spiral,
careful don’t want to hurt you when I go ******,
but the truth is the first rule of nature is survival,
chaos outside crack pipes alight demoralized fools act suicidal,

see healing can help but it can also hurt you,
especially if you forget your virtues,

trust me you must be occasionally criticized passionately,
for acting out irrationally if not you’re not living your truth,
too caught up in your own closed captions to actually,
see passed the rose glasses that skews your worldview,

out past curfew brazenly making your way merrily,
down that yellow brick road until you stub your toe I told you,
healing can hurt you if you forget your virtues,
still you choose to refuse the truth shown in your own show,

okay your choice to choose now without further ado, the news,

this just in, we’re all caught in whirlpools,
drains all clogged with heirlooms,
energy vampires virgule our virtues,
as slashed wrist fill bathtubs, pills lay on pillows in bedrooms,

these cities are pretty venues for gritty citizen cesspools,
sporadic & magic with hearts as dark as our issues,
no Jim Henson only thuggish muppets wretched henchmen,
puzzled puppets & sketchy Skeksis from The Dark Crystal,

it’s a bizarre & awkward Little Shop of Horrors,
a smorgasbord of unordered  hors d’oeuvres served cold,
& you’re confused of course because you didn’t order more,
plus it smells horrible oh well it’s only the first course,

anyways what’s on the menu today,
in this Showroom AKA Stolen Souls Salesroom’s display,
****** Nephews that resist rescue,
plus a side of drunken Lethargic Legume pate,

in other words intoxicated obnoxious Obscene Family Beans,
that are nostalgic for forgotten things that’ve long gone away,

& what have you on menu #2,
Locobutt Coconuts, crazy nuts Loony Tunes that lack values,
in other words hardheaded tropical crazy assed loons,
animated guys that apply topical gravy acid to cashews,
excuse me, did I offend you is that why you gave your opinion,
well opinions are like ******* & I’m sorry but I didn’t ask you,

I’ll harass you, if I want to, & harass her *** too,
I’m lampooned, lampin’ on a lagoon in a pontoon,
going gorillas, with my baboons in the full moon,
hope to not get harpooned too soon high as a kite at high noon,

call me Sun, or Sultan,
everyone is overdone, it’s insultin’,
brainwashed, & super spun,
the buzzer buzzed, the ***** laundry’s done,

hang it out to dry in the breeze,
air it out the window for everyone to see,
then look up at the sky, & tell me what you see,
one life at a time out here in San Franpsy, thunder & lightning,

here in San Franpsy, the sky, has a reddish haze,
smoke from Ukraine, magic mushrooms & acid rain,

we have all types of weather here in San Franpsycho,
slash your wrists just to check your vitals,

San Franpsycho, ******, psy-trance,
that Psy guy, with his Gangnam dance, dance monkey dance, strung out junkies, self made flunkies,
& 3rd rate rejects with a 2nd chance,

computer programmers,
digital techno gods,
programming the New World Order,
Zuckerberg & Steve Jobs,
& yeah the equation is way off,
but somehow we’ll even the odds,

even when Silk Road is taken down,
at the public library by out of town Federal Agents,
the caterpillars still make silk from mother’s milk,
still there are celebrations without any occasions,

from Hiroshima to Fukushima,
laughter from the hyphy hellish hyenas,
belly of the Beast ****tting out diarrhea,
hey anyone have any memories for my ongoing amnesia,
or maybe some anesthesia for this creative creature,
jeez I can barely breath I need to leave but,
I’m disorientated deliriously stumbling around this arena,
where I was just served a subpoena to answer to Jesus,
but I’m not ready to leave just yet, enjoying the scenery bruh,
we’re all portraits portrayed in The Great Life Galleria,

& I’m enjoying the show laughing madly like the hellish hyenas,
tip toeing on eggshells a tipsy bombed out bombshell ballerina,
as if it’s all good ‘cause I haven’t seen a real life Hiroshima,
washing down a divine diva’s cleavage,
with medical marijuana margaritas,
shouting out “Eureka”, struck gold & made a deal with Jesus,

Christ, or Jackson,
like Mike, or Michael,
The mirrored man is the boogieman, nothing’s normal,
****, it all goes down in San Franpsycho,

thee end, is coming soon, do what you have to for survival…

They say, thee end’s coming soon,
thought there was more to say,
really though,
how much more can we say?

Lost,
amongst the chaos caught outside with a long way to go,
calm,
within the center inside everything comes 360° full circle...

from THHT3: Dark Lights | Bright Shadows
available worldwide: 9/9/19