“Not here, not there, not anywhere.”

-j.e.m (9.4.15)

(meaning: wisdom that is incomprehensible to one of ordinary understanding or knowledge)

Alone, let me dissolve into the stale persistence of repeated memory, where,
to sink, into that moment, long at last, I will;
to time that stained my white and holy life like thick excreted waste,
as lost among the black apostles, self detest infection festered.
My soul did roast my psyche.

Let me watch through wiser eyes as I was suckled dry by rogues and devilled men who
fed me lies and praised degraded hopes in tight knit ******* ropes and
prayed their symbiotic futures whole;
their shackled lives, encased by squalid dwellings, ***** to empty, burnt to coals. Then,

let me fear again the death I cheated, let me shy away again from light and love,
as once I did,
and let the drugs inspire hunger, let my ribs admonish friendships;
show me seated on the sharpened iron throne that clawed its way into my life.

Let me remember courage, this, when biting clean the straps
that bent my arms behind my back,
that tied my feet without allowing slack, that stole my mind, that seared my life,
that scarred my flesh and sent me running, set me free at last
from final unforgiving seas that tempted me with futile guarantee
to nurture, care and carry me.

Let me, lastly, naked, stand in stark surrender, found by precious realisation.
Finally human once again! Majestic once again! While
chains of brutal, rusty, rotted steel detach,
and I begin to heal; to patch at last, my puzzled life that, muzzled,
once,
I hanged among
such sordid ruin.
Now a sequined future wheel rotates as I transition
from a past so art surreal,
so **** unreal,
and yet, a history, sad, but passed, that’s mine, alone to boldly feel.

Falling fast down hovelled stairs,
digesting wealth to ransom cares,
grotesque men who soil and harrow
suspend my dreams from thinning rope.

As discharge weeps from places raw
and blisters burn a molten core,
another phallus, soiled and poisoned
wants for smack and *****’d ******.

I bleed from wounds so deep within
of pain so stark and crude and raw
that pins me ‘neath the brine of sin
like drowning prey in ***** and ****.

I fail to dim the moving shadows:
those twisting jerks of spewed release –
but coming soon will silent growls
of dripping fat and blistered guilts.

Voiced within me, vague and distant,
something cries, yet tears withdraw.
Copious unheard pleas are buried;
here lay I, unknown, destroyed.

To burrow past unhuman men
(to further seal a keyless lock)
would ‘splay me in the public eye,
exampled, maimed, defeated; lost.

Phlegm and fur may line my mouth;
engorged, my lips, a ***** for more.
But somewhere deep inside myself
I’ve walked away from Brothel Shore.

Under the dead beat sky
Collaborations tie us all together
Our ideas cross and human gazes overlap
Streams flow into tiny veins that cover a certain surface area.

Red lights shine on profiled faces in the evening side of the night
Trainers shuffle along the uneven ground around town where signs are broken.
Cigarette smoke pours out of each corner of this run down station
Wrinkled looks despair over the dated flourescent timetables

Just waiting for the next train out of town
Just waiting for the next train out of town

Shove past my nearest man to get to the furthest conception
The long path to the nearest understanding of human nature
Is muddied with distasteful stories that couldnt hold any kind of weight Among us.

*Jeremiah in the window of the salon, he puts his makeup on slowly

the people swarm like ants
that’s what they say, isn’t it?
but they’re not like ants
at all, really.

ants have a purpose, a structure
they scrabble across the pavement as the sun beats down
with a common goal
carrying huge leaves between them
thousands of times their weight

nor are people like wildebeest
who stampede wildly across the plains:
LIONS! RUN!
their purpose is logical
their goal is survival
but people

people swarm in great swarthy swathes
sweating their way through the summer
slipping and
shivering their way through the snow

there are so many of them, and
their goals are so individual
so complex

not for them the ingrained logical processions
not for them the sole desperate stampede away from danger
no.

they have a society
have a culture
and wrapped in the cloaks of their conforms and their norms
they slither through the daylight
take up the space around them
give no heed to how they’re filling it
or who must take it next.

it’s why i like the early mornings
and the late night times
when the world is empty
barren
silent and pure
untainted by the congestion of the day.

Whatever hope or courage,
Whatever (madness) keeps us going,
We latch onto it
(like parasites)
And don't let go,
For that keeps us
Forever anchored
In this (nightmare) reality.
Though if we lose our grip
(we)
We could drift away
(aren't)
To a place so dangerously our own
(coming)
That reality slips to dreams
(back)
And we dance across the world
Like ripples.

i remember looking at the clouds
thinking how alone they looked
Appearing to share each others company
but at the same time looking so distant
Ive always sympathized with them
i would lay and watch them pass over me for hours
wondering how they knew where to go even when the path became dark
The stars don’t shine like they used to
they’ve dimmed to a slight glow
the light doesn’t seem to be in my reach anymore
I’ve stopped wishing on shooting stars whats the point of believing when you know what your believing in is a lie
only kept alive with counterfeit faith
only there to deceive yourself rather than everyone around you
Freckles dust your shoulders and cheeks
i cant help but imagine each one being a lie I’ve kept alive for your sake
There were millions
the thing i love about you most can somehow represent what i hate about you just as much
You’ve never held me the way you did today
i should be happy
instead i feel the exact opposite
Numbness and detachment blur my vision and block my thoughts
I’m left staring out the window while you gently kiss my neck
I’ve become the clouds
alone amongst the masses
You make me call the shots
thats not what i want
i need someone to tell me
what to do
where to go
how to speak
lately Ive been tired of holding so much responsibility on my shoulders
you nuzzle your nose with my own and gaze into my eyes
i really don’t want to let you go
You ask whats wrong
i answer with my new catch phrase
I’m tired
if only you could see that i mean Im tired of this routine

Somehow I’m able to feel so profoundly but at the same time feel nothing at all

i blame it on my ****** up character

lack of trust
fearfulness of intimacy
drifting apart
getting hurt
losing them
being alone
The loneliness clutches my wrists, breathily whispering
“you’ve driven everyone away, the ones you love so dearly are either dead, dying, or gone because you made them leave.”

The word goodbye slams around in my head
thrashing around and whacking the walls
this must be what my headaches originate from
I can’t just keep you around for my sake
my fear of being alone
I have this need to be with someone
but when i am
I’m not there at all
When you held me i felt nothing at all
only the warmth of your body and the scruff on your chin
My kisses were too hard
my touch too callous
all my motions seem to be rehearsed
Im beginning to think that we’ve lost our touch
I’m not sure if it was ever even there to begin with.

You know where you are
What you are, when you are
But not really, you feel almost
           Detached

From the world
And all its people
From those closest to you
And those you have yet to meet

You read the words on the page
But not through your own eyes, no
As if you are merely a lonely
Thing floating through time and space

Not living, but breathing
Barely surviving, but existing
You walk, run, fall
But it doesn't feel like you

At all.

Explanations;
In every day that I speak
and every day that I hear myself thinking
I just keep on
finding that words are impossible.
Yet they hold so much possibility inside
and that's something I see now even more.
What I take from this is at least I can try.

So now I'll try,
So if you just could listen,
(Not that it's ever been a task to make you listen to the things I say)
When I tell you this one thing:
Never do I leave it long
because I long to leave.
This is something you really have to know.
(I'm not entirely sure that this makes much sense at all)

But, little stranger, I think you know it now,
In some kind of way,
And mostly I think that because
somehow everything is strange now.
'Little stranger';
Less little than me, but somehow equally as strange.
Everything is strange now
but it all makes more sense that way.