maybe turn your back
on the glaring light of day
these things could wreck
your mind and make it fray

bile and venom line your lips
a wall you throw up with your tongue
spit it out, make a rip
in the world that stung

It is possible to live
at a remove so mesmerizing
so glacial blue
the narrow crevasse
opening beneath
your careless toes
swallows you
grinding past - present - future
until there is no you
only time
       a tumbled moraine
                               a shrinking river.

Today at a library I spoke to Jim. Such a pleasant 82year old gentleman born on the Isle of Man. As I got to know him a bit more, I found out that he hasn't spoken to a single person in 3weeks! He did mention saying hi or hello to people you normally greet, but nobody wanted to take it from there and spend the time of their day just talking. We spent chatting roughly 20 minutes and every now and then he would almost feel uncomfortable having me around, asking if he wasn't "wasting" my time.
It saddens and angers me, that at an age where everyone feels so connected, we have grown so detached and so distant from each other, even from ourselves. Even our own friends, our own parents and relatives, let alone strangers. We avoid being vulnerable with each other. We project what we think would gather more likes or more acceptance from the society. But by doing so, we are undoing the very basic of the basics. Connection. We are ashamed and embarrassed to project vulnerability.
It all starts with a simple hello. Outside.

“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.