Turns out
Crystal clear
Might not be as clear as we think

I look through glass
And I see a warped version of you
A twisted version of the person I once loved

I look through quartz
And I see a kind person
Someone who cares
Someone who loves.
That's not who you are.

I can see for myself.
I don't need any crystals that manipulate me into thinking you are good.
You're not.
Leave me alone.

There once was a **** head named Seth
Who smoked a whole kilo of ****
     And proceeded to beat off
     And beat all his meat off
And methed himself finally to death.

My sad is copper sulfate,
A blue shriek in my sternum,

A pressure frame inside me,
Too far away to burn him.

Leave my sad to crystallise,
Please just keep your distance.

Through my stalagmites of sorrow
Take the line of least resistance.

I carve companions from the rock,
Each one a salty clone.

I’ve made societies down here
To sit with my alone.

(Is there an emotion for mystical? I suppose it would be to be mystified. Perhaps awe is the word I am looking for.  I was in awe at the sight of him! I was beyond mystified!)

It started in the Yellow Wastelands.  Where life went to die.  As life dies there, they become a part of the Yellow Wasteland adding to his spread and growth becoming a sort of crystalline lattice.  All go willingly to the crystalline whisper. The whisper in recent theory emanates from the shining yellow crystals that grow among the Yellow Wasteland like blue bonnets in the Texas spring.  Once the Whisper is heard the victim willingly partakes in what we call The March. The March is a mindless saunter to The Yellow Wasteland where upon arrival they lay in the yellow dirt and slowly begin crystalizing. We have tried stopping The March. But have been unsuccessful for many years.  During the state of the march the victim gains a strange, extraordinary ability to control others as they see fit. If one or a group of people, try and prevent the march they will be controlled by the whisper to put the victim back on track.  The final equation that we cannot solve is why one hears the whisper.  There seems to be no pattern whatsoever.

On this day my daughter heard the whisper. We walked with her for hours on end.  My wife and son followed shortly behind whilst I walked beside her talking about memories and music.  My son then caught up and started to play his lute. He played song after song and sang beautiful lyrics that they wrote together.  My wife would then catch up to fix our daughters hair and clean her face as we walked and walked toward The Yellow Wasteland.  There were times where we would walk all together in a line and pray and pray.  

Over the Wolf's crossing trail was a hill. The hill was now called.
" The Last Ascend."    The Yellow Wasteland can be seen below.  We started the ascend up the last ascend.  Tears flooded all our eyes as we were powerless to stop The March.

crystal tears turned to dust
i’m done crying
unless I must
i’m done buying
our time back like it will revive our lust
i’m sick of the late nights and the I love yous
i’m tired of looking at you and not knowing who
you are now

but then I will think about the beautiful crystals
that formed through our years
beautiful
but sharp
painful to look at
it is beauty to love
but it is pain to lose it

You're the true instance of virtuous human.

Your mind as pure as crystal,
your heart soft and sound like waters.

everythang about you signifies peace and harmony,
love and respect. Your feeling is so true.

Your life is a blessing, and you're such a special prize from the mother Earth to my soul.

And to the whole universe. Super human.


Human, crystal mind, love, harmony, peace, respect, blessing, Earth Universe 🌌

"Let me look
Into my crystal ball"
I said sarcastically
With my eyes closed
A ball of laundry in hand

Our future could have been
Beautiful, bright, treasured
Like rare crystals or gems
Alas, the 'leaders' are close-minded
They are only open
To money and power

Now, to keep myself
Safe and sane
I have to shut myself away
Form a diamond-hard shell around me

I am not saying
My visions of the future
Is unclear and muddy;
I am saying.......
There is none
The only window open
In my hellish prison
Is the one where fuel
Enters to grow this inferno