Woke up, saw a face.
Looking down, on the bed.
Looking through, my eyes.
My soul, and my sight.

My blood, pumped up.
My heart started to weep.
My brain, needed more oxygen.
To get me out of this heap.

How did this happen,
Where was I lost.
Why couldn’t I figure out,
What happened after the dark?

Getting out of the covers,
Took like 10 freaking hours.
As I looked at the date,
And went off to mars.

I had to do it quick,
My life was on the line.
One wrong step,
And I’d weep so much that I die.

Fortunately for me,
My saviour had come.
Panic was telling me,
Take a deep breath and began.

******* monkey,
You ruined so much of my time,
But the real monster was here,
A beast in disguise.

I began, with a breath.
And a big glass of coke.
It told me to be calm,
And remain for the toast.

It showed me what I needed,
It showed me a way.
But first it told me,
To remain calm is the way.

I worked for hours,
And the days to come.
Took deep breaths,
And played games in the dim.

All was not lost,
I still had my sight.
Thank you panic,
Showing me a way, from my might.

The Sun was far, hot and big
Before I trapped him in my camera;
Like the mighty sea lost its might
When carried away in a bucket.

The old days, the old ways, those are in the winds of been;
with all the worries
worth worrying lost with the reasons why

today was to have been
impossible.

Self-evident, right, the prophets were right and
the liars
are with us, as sure as the poor.

Today, we live and die, planning to do it again,
after a nap, making clear

this peace past understanding, so you can see
through it to the

glimpse of a happiness you know, it's right, no evil
dripping acidic
lies
into hopes, we held locked in catechismical caves.

So long ago. The old days were not good.
Only the stories with happy ever after this
----

You see it done, old son, you take the role.
No missed takes, no second guess,
single-mind me, my self, I say may the game begin

en joy, they say, as if verbishment en into en trance
muted
nothing to this, in our own life's history,
verified, examined and, be hold,

not found wanting anything. Off the scale,
onto the state or stage of becoming,

not there, not here, be
coming
soon, always soon, soon, now

big bang, right. be

hell, you lie, and you know it, but why?
Liars prosper.
That's the key, if you give a buck. I'm a pro,

you don't get where reality is this slippery and
threatening,
guided by me, y'follow? you don't get here, and blame me.

Blame me, shame me, oughta take rope,
'n' hang me.

What if, still, in effect. Reality at gut level, synaptic axion dents, right,
waves of peristalsis moving shichewswallowed,

minus that action,
you are dead,

but your biome, the raw info, ideas that moved you, through the years,
we adapt, we modify our center of gravity,

we ellipsilate our sphere of influence into

fratical fractal real ification practices prospering in 2019.

Nonshite. Dear reader, we must pause, please, hold this thought...

The cultivator must be first, no lie. Seedtime gap harvest. Eat me.

sign on the bottle,
it was a clue, don't you want somebody to love?
You better,
find somebody to love, oh yeah, that left a mark. Funny,

It's okeh to smile, I said to Imogene Coca.
She stared into my eye, no Bette Davis eye,

Imogene Coca eye, no smile, no word mime meme bent
to a pixelation
degree, you pretend to see, AI can see the thread
you trust the legend,

scarlet thread or golden?
Which do we cut?

She is silent

What would happen
If we read “X over X”
As the calculation
It deserves
Instead of so much
Self-serving banter?
We’d find what goes in what
And in quantities unforeseen
As conversing crowds
Among the qualities:
How about this?
“Mind over matter.”
How much matter is within mind,
What pieces of the world
For ideals left behind—
Perhaps what memories
In nutrients we disregard
And the patchwork politics
Between chocolate and hearts
Of artichoke.
What of “ballots over bullets?”
When blood spells the words
We’ve yet to choke
Down?
How many shots will be fired
Before we like band-aids
To wounds apply?
How much violence endures
Till democracy is blest,
How many protests cut down
Before we can lay down the sword?
What of the adage “brains over brawn?”
The well-known oath of courts and kratocrats
With force harp upon?
The strength which one must possess
To prove intelligence
Proves unattained
Yet so many beatings
Are reasoned as recompense—
What sense must be made of pain
To convince us the path of enlightened men
We must avoid
To stay in line.
Thus, submission over freedom
Is where true freedom stems.

I read a story once
About a bug that crawls into people's ears and lays eggs in their brains
Ever since then I have to cover my ears to fall asleep
It's funny that people think that way
That they matter
That a story WILL happen to them
Because at the end of the day
It might

My options are limited
And my time is way too long
It's quite unfortunate
I don't know what I'm doing wrong
I know the problem
I just don't know the solution
I've hit rock bottom
Now I welcome prosecution
They see me as a burden
I shouldn't be here
I open up the curtain
And let the sun sear
Now we're all on fire
I let in the heat
They fight against desire
I'm the the one to mistreat
I must make a decision
I'm just too naive
One thing they always mention
I must change or leave