On some mental shish,
Some hyper bolictime chamber shish,
Working out, unpreferred peripherals.
How quaint thinking hyperbolic thoughts,
Translation, non-medicinal words got me hollering...

"Cacophony cosmic cluster concussions"

Thinking sarcastically recklessly on a regular,
Causing mental anguish when thought of.

It’s all art,
everything that surrounds us,
no time for the hate life’s to short,
it’s all good no stress,

all bless,
honest,
this is God Sense,
not Common Sense,

there’s a difference,
and it’s significant,
we operate off instinct,
the connection’s intrinsic,

that it,
nothing else,
it’s all art,
if it’s at all felt,

it’s all art,
everything that surrounds us,
no time for the hate life’s to short,
it’s all good no stress…

∆ LaLux ∆

To whom this may concern,
I wished for it!
I cried for it!
I almost died for it!
Nobody shows me love!
Not from the people I like at least.
I waited all my life.
God would give me no love.
Now I am reckless.
Where can I find her?
I am tortured by it.
Now I can not live without it.
Please someone tell me it is alright.
No one will say anything sincere.
It just plays into my childhood.
At least that is a professional point of view.
I say it is pointless!
Why talk about the past when you do not want to relive it?
I am like anybody else.
I have a fantasy and I want to live it.
I am sorry I am using “it” a lot.
I am just venting.
I have a few things wrong that makes me not go into the public.
I can not take any more.
Yes I have my eye on a few.
The intuition that they do not like me always creeps in.
I was hoping to become a writer too.
I guess there is nothing more to do.

Reach into the nothingness
Like a warm breath slipping into the cold night
Hands outward, eyes open, upwards towards the sky

Embrace the silent subtle voice
Which hides behind the daily routines
But is no less mindfully alive

Cast images onto the fog itself
Until you've seen the many dreams which you've procured for yourself
In this cloudy life

Breathe with the forgetfulness of evey waking step  
As you amble through these miles set
With jawline firm and eyeline slight

Smile at the passing sight of another universe in tow
Which ambles by and out of view
As your inward story comes alive

And live not in line with every Crow on any high wire
But fly as if there were no tomorrow in your quiet sigh
Upwards and towards the sky