Once more it was you
This itchy thought in-between my legs
This greed, this insufficiency
This urge to run away, the force of habit of coming back
Once more to you, with you, beside you, on you, in you, under you, on top of you, next to you, close to you, to you, you, you, you, you.
Never satiated. Never will I be.
we talk every day
screen in hand we share the world
every detail in black and white
your voice sounds so much sweeter
when your lips are in front of me
and not the camera
i said i would stay
my promises slipped away, got lost
trickled through the cracks and left
maybe one day further along
ill get a little better at keeping
all these promises
Instead of being sick
I've chosen to be honest
and it's a simple exchange of words.
To take my mind and body
hand in hand or thought for thought
to bring them together
that I need to be healthy.
To speak philosophy and psychology
I will need to be an example
of health and a preacher
of true self respect--
that does not let sugary foods
and media persuade me
from my identity.
It is not by the grace
of a supernatural deity
that I come to improve,
or the supreme control of ulterior motives,
nor world justice.
But the illusion of self control itself
that begets me to strengthen my core
that we are all beyond:
our basic habits,
worthy of salvation,
that all animals
if desired can become
more than our de-faults.
It appears that every middle aged woman,
feels the need to drink decaf coffee religiously,
without a jolt.
Is it a habit they couldn’t break,
from the time when they were a caffeine fiend?
Is it simply because Americanos,
frick them up?
Every woman who requests such an order,
has the same short perm-curl-like hairstyle,
and a similar quiet,
passive aggressive attitude.
“I’m not a soccer mom”
the cracks of their teeth,
from the discomfort in their
Maybe I’m unobservant
and it’s actually just the same woman,
who comes in often tending to her routine,
chain-downing decaf Americanos.
I might just be too vigilant lately,
and the idea,
of similar people,
indulging in such café party fouls,
is a threat,
and a punch in my,
Is watching a human die the same as an animal?
Does it depend on the type of animal?
Maybe we just sympathize more because we are humans and
If we were to see a fish die we wouldn’t see it’s last breath in a puff.
There has to be a reason, something significant,
For us to feel when someone breaks or dies.
I remember the way his body twirled between the train and the ledge
And I wondered, when did his soul leave him?
Did he regret it when he felt the sharp, intense sting
jolt through his whole being?
The bystander stood there, looking and viewing,
frozen because he wasn’t used to seeing death.
There’s a concept and a theory of death
and of why we’re affected.
But if someone were to kill a fly it’s so trivial because flies are annoying
but if someone were to kill a dog then that person is a psychopath.
Do we have our priorities right?
If that’s the case, then we’re all murderers.
Someone showed me a graph to voice
why we see those things as trivial.
The obvious answer was emotional attachment
but somewhere, someone else said solitude
I miss you out of habit. I still find myself searching for your eyes and yearning for your touch even though we are no longer a we. It's just a you and a me now. It has always been so hard for me to deal with change, I always end up reaching across the other side of the bed, always thinking my fingers would still come across yours. I have spent so much of my heart loving you that I failed to see I would end up clawing at the air you used to warm with your presence and staring at blank spaces where you used to be. I miss you out of habit, the habit being us, but that habit has proven itself to be a bad one so we ceased to exist and we were replaced with untouched hands and empty spaces.
When you're right you are the majority of one. ~ Ralph W ..Emerson
Fascinated with the irrational non violent part of the world.
They swore on the mossy jade gray grave of their ancestors to always vote non rational. To avoid violets in unpleasant dying shades. That tuesday they even invented a cunning slogan: "When roses are in bloom, my spaceship goes ka-boom!"
This took them to many places. Abroad. Skydiving. Honolulu wave floating flowery delights. Many smoothies. Gems. Glitter. Noblesse novelty. Swift pleasurable trips to Jupiter and its moons. To collect the magic dust for eternal youth. To chat with those old chaps on Uranus about the trendy hierarchy among celestial bodies over a pint of that fabulous interstellar foamy cream dream.
In the fancy Jupiter Eye area they were really excited to met Wonderful azure and pink divas of undisputable deep wisdom; who claimed that Any Reasonable Questions of any value worth discussing are Futuristic in their Super coordial nature.
Super imposed hyper realities were the topic of most relevance ... when suddenly ... out of the thin dark matter superliciously slick space craft materialized on one of Saturn's rings and started broadcasting 5th- 125th -Dimensional heavenly divine music. It was the Supreme Healing Antheme - "The infinity healing song" directly transmitted from the galactic center of the Divine Milky Way in coproduction with Glittery Andromeda. The galactic radio stuff were happily taking a brake from the usual hectic program and was having a relaxed time telling half completed stories around the campus fires.
First tale was about a very personal journey through mists, fortunes and unfortunes laid through disappointments which can be called awakenings. Magical and mystical experiences were attainable only to the initiated ones. So the ears listening were fewer than a handful of sands laying around unknowingly innocent on Costa Rica sandy beaches.
We have never heard the sequel part of this amazing tale fulfilled with beauty, advantures and dangerous minds exploring the new frontiers ... we were lulled to oblivion sleep with cosmic chimes ... so we never caught the immense importance of ... something about they wanted to reduce.
Since they forged and burnt down the ingenious plan for the energy resources equally shared between galactic citizens, science is totally helpless. Flailing. The paradigm of evidence is choking on its basic premises of hyperproduction. Unproductive ideas were flawed with the lack of control over objective realities. For overcoming this terrible dis-ease, modern tribes used neurolinguistical experimental dance upon electrified wires which was exactly the Shamans Argument for succesful leading lives within the realm of the virtual comunion.
Cohesion, strenght, disperesed centralised focus and liberty ideals of such bondings were overflowing and beyond total supervision of the contemporary android policies. Refined logic and politeness were opposing discs on the shelf of reciprocity law of cosmic karma. So ... many beings were starting to glow with inner beauty emanating telepathic messages of love sharing and respecting other living beings lifes and their prosperity, blissfully healed with Heavenly Divine Infinite Song.
It was wild, bio versatile ecstatic dance bursting with fresh ideas and translucent emotions. Beings were constantly in love, falling in love and ascending towards Unifieing Field of Love. Reinpowering the realm of Imagination. Manifesting goodness. Various styles of love, art, ecology and anarchy were brothers and sisters in arms. This was regularly happening on '''´The Brightest Planet of Living Mysteries. Self exploration for a human: A conscious one-harmony voice living in pleasant bounty with all other consciousnesses was the new moral maxim. They'd do also Everything for the Happy ~go forward into the light thing!