folding the sirens of
eternity in on themselves
as this scant hour
rebuilds its stage
over and
over
in the light of my eyes

already there is a perception
of being caught
in a loop - of a lesson
playing out
before a malady
of ignorance

i am free to see it
and i am free
to miss it

it is the long
breath
of the breaching
whale - an exchange
of currents for
the transformation of
sky into
ocean depths

it is
the
hidden union
in transience

recurring
in beautiful
obscurity

Something mooore, for my soul,
Give me the buy, in your fancy store,
Give me the buy, hopefully, I can be mooor can make it feel mooor,
Poor craving soul, wants sraff, staff, staff,
Anything,

I want to buy in your store, something mooor,
Give me mooor, mooor, mooor, mooor,
buy and buy, mooor,  hopefully I can be mooor,
I can make it feel mooor,
So much hope For my soul,

Something to love, so, the next morning I can throw it away,
Looking to buy Moooooor, Happiness,
For my craving soul,

Somebody help me!

Get out my soul!
Out from your store!
Please?!
Close the store door!
I’ll pay you,

We reinvent ourselves, until we are too invented to be ourselves.
We want what we can’t have, we have what we don’t want.
We allow the world to tell us who we need to be in order to succeed.

Under false pretences we are deceived,
Into not being who we want to be, not seeing the things we need to see.
We prevent our dreams from running free,
Instead we nod and agree.
We all want to be, in fact we are all wannabes

We blindly follow the status quo.
We blindly let our thoughts lie now.
There’s ignorance in all we know.
They say we have freedom of speech until we actually speak.
Next up?
We are forcefully impeached.

Not to mention, we claim to see life as this ongoing lesson.
Okay que the tension, How do we fix this giant mess we’re in?

We pride ourselves on harmonic progression.
I have a better suggestion.
We are in our own regression of comprehension, our brains filled with congestion.
Our obsession with possessions is causing a rise in severe clinical depression.
We are compressing our self-expression at our own discretion because we fear leaving a bad impression.

We are afraid to leave our mark on the world.
We are afraid to leave footprints behind;
Footprints beyond the carbon kind.
Everyone is constantly offended.
As if being offended is going to mend all of the real issues we have left unattended, undefended,
Completely open ended-

But please, tell me why you didn’t like that song.
Or why everything is suspect of being so wrong.
Oh. You are offended?
Sorry, I’m just not ******* interested.

You sit and argue all day long, taking pride in games of mindless ping-pong.
Back and forth, spewing words of hate.
Your guns are drawn. Truthfully, we all play along.
We play into the stupidity, into the invalidity of what we see.
Aren’t we supposed to be strong?
You know what is stronger, our need to belong.
The structure of our world slowly crumbles and all I hear is faint mumbles.

But is freedom a possible reality for our society or,
Am I overlooking the gravity of our incapacity.
Is our freedom a complete fallacy?

Your fingertips on my lips
Something that no man has done
Is make me feel safe
I love you but that's besides the point
I am a blissful fool
Radiating in my own ignorance
Meditating on lust
Drowning in your touch
I've never made love
But I want to with you
I am a fool
Who is easily blinded by love

Blissful art those
that are ignorant.

They know not pain,
for they do not know what pain is;

and I wish
I could join them,

the children of the oblivion.

As I approach the edge
Of awareness
Danger flashes!
A veil of flame
You risk burning fingers here

Pain
Confusion
Shame
Guilt
Crushed by the weight of the past

Once invisible worlds that shimmer
Just out of focus
Beyond the veil

What draws me near?
Why do I risk burning?

I have not always felt the lie so clearly
But as I learn and explore my world
The shallowness of my existence has been plumbed
Found wanting

It doesn’t match the world that others see

To see their worlds
I must
Walk through the fiery veil
        To connect
        To love
        To fit the pieces of their worlds and mine together

Now I pity those I was once like
Trapped in their small worlds
Blinded eyes
Plugged ears
Wrapped in cotton

They don’t know what they don’t know
But a part of me knew
A part of them knows
And mourns

For the world that waits for them
Beyond the veil

Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
A man locks eyes with an artificial light
that shows a world clouded in darkness. Gleaming with empty words and false promises, the light is shut.
“Not now,” he says, as he drifts of into the night.

Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
The man springs from his bed, chasing the light.
Yet his calloused hands go stiff—
he backs away with a shake of the head.
“I’m not ready,” he says, as he eyeballs a dusky mirror reflecting on days that have long gone.

Ding! . . . Ding! . . .
This time, he merely acknowledged the light—
the light that enamored him once, maybe twice.
Yet this time, he simply glanced
as it died in the twilight.
“Why bother?” he says, as he dreams of days that once were.

shiny straight hair
sky-blue eyes
lips made to cradle mine
shoulders strong yet delicate
******* supple and ripe
tapered waist, flared hips
legs finely turned
by a master carver
feet to be worshiped

all perfect pieces
never fleshed out
into Woman