I walked through the portal
leaving sadness, sorrow and grief behind.
My footprints were muddy,
and chains dragging behind me.

I left to find new purpose and freedom,
the old world of which could offer me none.
Every man that returned was a changed man,
a freed man set on a new path of greatness.

Now that man would be me,
who would find extraordinary power.
Even now I can feel my shoes being cleansed,
the chains feeling a little bit lighter around me.

Oh, what glory is this that I've found,
this glorious thing that has shaped me!
A changed man am I,
finally free from the bounds of confinement.

But, wait! What's this, this feeling that I feel,
filling me with lust and pulling me closer?
Something I have never heard of or seen,
a thing unforeseen by anything I know.

Hark! He knocks unceasingly on my door,
with the voice of a newborn and the staff of a man.
I am drowning in want for this,
yet this new world is filled with it.

When I let him in he comes with a howl,
and bounds me with new chains made of strong steel.
I am captured once more in this illusion of perfection,
too naive to see the truth of the dirt.

My shoes are again muddy,
but with the dirt of this society instead of that one.
The chains trap me and I am changed,
a slave forever chasing what I can never have.

Ya want
Endless love
& Affection.

There aint
Even enough
For everybody.

What does it mean to be human?
Forged in the hearts of the universe
A billion fragments of creation, woven into one existence
Children of the stars that envious eyes reflect
What does it mean to be human?
I am the universe
I am alone

What does it mean to find beauty?
To witness the Sun's racing photons pierce the atmosphere
with bursting lust for the horizon
The waves finding my eyes, and leaking dopamine in my brain
What does it mean to find beauty?
I am in awe
I am chemistry

What does it mean to write poetry?
To order the shapes and symbols written by dead men
in a way no one has ever seen before
A fool's attempt to have one feel what all have felt before
What does it mean to write poetry?
I am a poet
I am a liar

What does it mean to die?
To find the book continues writing
for you were not the protagonist all along
To learn this, only once you cannot learn at all
What does it mean to die?
I am alive
I am finite

What does it mean to love?
To see the finite chemicals in all the lonely liars
And to hold them close
In awe of the universal poetry that is our lives
All the same, we are all the same
I am love
If we were anything else, there would be no point
No Hope
No Life

We are all subject to the train’s pull
No matter our worth in weight or wealth
No matter the sum of gold noosing necks & wrists
Gravity wringing aspirations into pools at our feet

We are sacks of meat, burdened by the heaviness in knowledge & consciousness:
The knowing we are, and yet not

Writing preface to our own demise,
Whilst the load of space around seals its binding
******* righteousness in the left & ignorance in the right

We, nature-made, we
Busy in breath and body

We, donning better halves as pelts and scarves, we
Soulless sleeves malleable in gear

We
Train people
Swaying
As does a bundle of seaweed moves about a scape of blue,
Powerless in swing

--
c

War.
This idea of competition,
this idea of fight or flight,
this idea of narcissism,

This is the epitome of,
not human nature,
but inhuman nature.

Humans were given the ability to talk with,
one mouth,
and they were given the ability to listen with,
two ears,
yet we either SHOUT at each other endlessly,
without listening,
or we skip the talking and go straight to fighting.

Never ask me that question again.
Defying the body. Original sin.
Don't press the issue. Don't press your luck.
I would much sooner choose fight than choose ****.

Stacking the cards. Cooking the books.
Cry in the shower to cleanse ***** looks.
Slurp up your earnings. Feast on deceit.
Nibble on scraps while they're dining on meat.

Call out for help. Pity can save.
Swallow the fact that you're branded. Depraved.
**** for your honor. Fight for your life.
Take back what's yours by the edge of the knife.

Eat all the forces opposing your way.
Sometimes brutality's what saves the day.
Garnish their corpses with spite and rejoice.
Feed your desires like you had a choice.

Ever loved someone so fiercely that it makes them pack away and run?
The smothering intensifies
In turn they thirst for distance.

Though it was never your intention you just always crave their presence,
You annoying little ****.
Ruining love since adolescence.
❤

If you don't believe
that the world can turn
into a Hobbesian-state,
then find a wall
& stare at it until it hurts.
   You'll notice
        that the paint isn't dry
        & the picture will change
        with a single blink,
        fade with dry eyes
        & breathe when you want it to.
  You'll see a wall
  can be many things;
        It can move in a dream
        if you make it,
        or drape itself in mirrors
        & make you infinite,
        although trapped,
        staring at a wall
        & thinking of someone else,
        but only seeing yourself
        forever
        in every direction.