The eyes look, but I see
The skin touches, but I feel
The nose sniffs, but I smell
The ears listen, but I hear
The tongue licks, but I taste.

So observation proves another.
A silent partner,
Silent until prompted
Waiting... and acting
When conscious eyes of experience aren't there to catelog being.
When all seems to flow naturally
I am not there to reflect
And no memory of my own can reveal
My lucidity.
An acting unconsciousness leaves awareness wanting.

I am slave
I am addiction
Airy
open my pages
Find a clear lack of clarity, apparently.
find the words of obscurity,
that kept ME,
feeling absurd / lacking purity.
Words that helped me hold you down
Hold me down
Consuming and reusing and expelling in a town
Where we have no choice but to be ourselves
Ourself as seemed reflected on a screen
Our|a|self we might through dedication gain applause for
But not ourself, the one our eye’s never see.
Even our own eyes.
A self i/u/we buried.
To seem I was special and lacked- |non|?-absurdity.

Those shadowy emissaries
That pass the mind’s great lidless eye
In slow procession through the night
Do fill with color and with sound
The sleeping brain’s vast sweeping bound,
And populate its cityscapes
And alleys with amorphous shapes
That shifting form and countenance
Convey the tides of fleeting thought;
And oft become dark shapes of dread,
Parades of faceless horrors, such
That when I glance their looks are changed –
Each lineament is rearranged –
All meaning or remembrance lost,
Or masked by sweet forgetfulness.
The secret that there lurks within
The labyrinths of memory,
Still tainted by the stench of guilt -
And strengthened by the voice of fear -
Still screams from some dark hidden cell
The lurid blasphemies of hell,
And births itself anew each night,
Each morning dying with the light,
Yet nightly grows in hateful strength,
Corrodes the sturdy locks of will,
And claws through those great iron doors
That lead to waking consciousness.

I am but a woman,
becoming unclothed,
in front of an audience,
that easily,
dispose,
and discard,
the misunderstood..

Sincerely,
a servant

let us uncover
the oneness in
one another

To please society
is a difficult task
you have to mold and wear a mask
that hides your face
and censors your soul
the masks we wear
let us fit in
because being yourself
is forbidden
were not supposed
to think for ourselves
were led instead with whistles and bells
do this, do that, move here read that
they treat us as if
we were as blind as a bat
as if we can't think
without wearing their hat
they don't want us to think
they don't want us to feel
they want us to sink
they don't want us to heal
they want to hide us
from the truth of reality
and give us a false,
sense of morality
they hand us clay
to craft our mask
and they say
do this task
do it fast
put on your mask
or you'll be last
and put on blast.
It's awful how we are deceived
we're told that our worth
comes from how were perceived
they ignore our needs
not the basic like food and water
but instead how to be a good father
or be a real friend
so many relationships
come to and end
because the weight of our masks
is far too much
it makes another person's heart
too difficult to touch
the masks we wear
aren't good at all
they beat and tear and want us to fall
fall far away from our true selvs
and all of our emotions
end up bottled on shelves.
It's time to wake up
take off the mask
break through the ice
stop doing your task
look at the sky
look at the stars
don't spend your time
drinking at bars
why not think about
how to reach mars,
or how to build a slide for cars
you've gotta snap out of it
open your eyes
you'll be proud of it
and you'll start to despise
all of the masks that craft our lies
at the end of this journey
there is a suprise
it's the ability to live
without shades on your eyes
you loose all of the weight that the masks carried
and all of your pain will finally be buried.

When you love life itself,
The very act of sitting passively
Contains feelings of contentment.
Harbor love by abstaining from harm.
Refuse to defuse pain.
Leave pleasure as a passive gain.
Rejoice that you can remark,
"I have lived";
That is a truth
The mystery of Consciousness gives.
When the blood and the lungs
Pump and respire
With a warmth in your heart
That sings like a choir -
When the silent moment is sweet,
Light and complete,
How much more can you be,
How much more can you seek?
You are already Love
Every moment you breathe.
You are Love on a journey
To manifest dreams.
You are already a dream
Within a dream.
Now experience fully
However your story proceeds.