The words flow best,
In the places you won't go.
Each dip in the brain,
Places in your mind where it rains.

I can't fault you,
These things bring great pain.
But if you wish to make music,
Which I know you do,
You need to.

I try to walk the Earth,
Yet, I'm impeded.
The planet's rotation,
Keeps me pacing.
Each good memory keeps on replacing,
With something worse,
Plus a better, yet, imagined one.

Inside my mind, a tree decays,
Its branches broken, lost in haze.
Dark shadows cling to every limb,
A silent scream, a fading hymn.

Roots once deep now barely hold,
A story of despair untold.
I feel myself slowly fade,
A shadow of the strength I made.

No light breaks through this endless night,
Just emptiness and fading sight.
The tree is dying, lost in gloom,
A silent witness to my doom.

"TAKE A WALK INSIDE MY MIND"

In dreams, my love, you come to stay,
Locked inside, you can't run away.
Don't fear the dark, don’t close your eyes,
Within these depths, a soft truth lies.

Keep going, love, and don’t retreat,
There’s warmth ahead, past cold defeat.
Ignore the man who screams and weeps —
A shattered piece my silence keeps.

He’s part of me, when all went wrong,
But his grip is fierce, his hold is strong.
Stay clear of him, don’t meet his face,
He dwells inside a cursed place.

And if you feel a child is near,
Don’t be alarmed — he brings no fear.
That child is me, small hands so light,
He guards your path, he knows what's right.

I used to wish, in whispered prayer,
That you could walk inside me, there —
You’d see the truth I tried to hide,
The love I hold, so deep inside.

Now follow close — hear my soul's sound,
Let childish fingers guide you down.
He asked to hold your hand — say yes,
His grip is soft, it won't oppress.

Oh wait — don’t look beyond that wall,
Where darkest memories still crawl.
That man… the one who stole your peace,
He suffers now and finds no ease.

I lock him there, where he must stay,
And punish him each godless day.
Please turn away — you should not see
The vengeance I demand from me.

Go on, through doors of quiet grace,
You’ll find us in a gentler place.
A garden room where sun is gold,
Where love is warm and hearts are bold.

Look — there we are, both full of joy,
You, me, our girl, and little boy.
She laughs like you — her eyes the same,
We call her light, we gave her name.

This is the home I run to, dear,
Each time you flee or disappear.
It’s where the shadows dare not creep,
It’s where my demons fall asleep.

I don’t know who I’d be, or how,
Without this dream we’re living now.
Though words may fail, please know it’s true —
This heaven lives because of you.

And when my time on Earth is done,
This is the place where I will run.
No pain, no cries, no hollow moan —
Just you, and me, and light — alone.

--Raydachef

Outside of language structuring and more into the rhetoric of philosophy;
Logos, within the frame of reference of 2nd person perspective, corresponds to our inner monologues. The mind's speech.

1st person - Perceiver - Person
2nd person - Perception - Place
3rd person - The Perceived - Thing

So whereas from the 1st person perspective, thought is merely an attribute of perception - 2nd person sees the mind as a more physical place.
A liminal space between the material & immaterial.
Therein, thought which is the inner monologue can be offered body. You can personify thought as a whole, personify thoughts in sets, or in singulars. So 3rd person would be thought which examines or experiences itself.

I am not broken; the world is.
Every day, it’s a new trend, whether worthless or rich,
Whether Black or white, dull or bright.
Every day is a new battle, a storm in a sea of dreams.
Dreams which get lost among the crowd of mindless bees.

The unfortunate truth is, the world favours aesthetics.
Whether in your work or in your deary beak.
Each day it’s a new goal, whether money, happiness, or ******,
But I ask, where is the genuine, the giddy, and the fulfilled?
Lost in the wildfire of fleeting faces and smoke-choked dreams?

Where are the joyful, the dreamers, and the poets?
Lost in the world of the weary, the cynic, and the skeptics?
But finally, I see the truth, the infallible truth—
Hidden behind the layers, lies, buzz, and noise,
That I am not broken; the world is.

An hour, backed up,
nothing sacred hidden,

secret reasons thus far appear mortal flaws,
socialization recollecting ethics et mores
this buys that, this, buys anything,
trader sign in clay, he say four,
you point see, my two cent,
say this worth that, two,
a just weight, love your enemy

after cultivated economies
of holy eternal right wrong, on off, clicks

easy, impossible, inevitable, now
clickity click
in or out free
from further capital expense
let us be
as if spirit, taken up
think out loud, for an instance.

If we imagine money as an adaption,
after words developed locally,
lived in recollected ghost stories
before stories wandered mumbling
peace
and just
weights fed art's sake
scientifically, agnostically, intellectually

Dhe, there, accessing consciousness online
- old idea we once spake one language

Japhethian mean old PIE
on to logical now, here, cultural ontologies,
all end here, whoever prophesied whatever
happens all the time to warring minds, ever

oh my truth what binds me
to our holy warrior breed
we grew
to old age, got older than Socrates was
when Plato started dialoging perhaps, aloud,
or my sense starts reminding me what I fed it,
bread
and circuses and
novels and parables and proverbs,

galore, come invite… aha,
in vitro otro, no no no, breathe hoo mon

we worship truth in spirit, we choose, often to die alone,
we walked away from all holy striving, took the easy way,
well worth the effort, even once, walking back down,
after helping Sisyphus teach us the value of offering help

Earth, earth, can you hear us now? As we let this mind be

we, as us two and any other comes along

tuning out the noise endemic near interstate
roads and international air traffic hubs,

scatterbrains
acknowledging ear abuse, excuse
given me, by grace
to retire on… thanks to old ethical

standards, originally skewed
in favor of war,
as a national enterprise,
toward which, we
survived as we
who may,
with proper tutelary spirits, whom
we trust, instinctively, since first exposure
wish
for riches that come
without sorrows added, no
pay the preacher, pay and pray
to lovable money, come progressing
toward extravagance epic expectancy

when the big wigs lost the true rest,
when liberty took abode
with wisdom, finest instance, true

liberty, gotta be out of body, true to mind
what the idea of reality is, when we realize

we pluralize, without thinking, we watch,
functionally Mesmerized creatures of habit…

The first U.S. currency to bear the motto
"In God We Trust" was the two-cent coin,
which was minted in 1864.


{ The History of Empires, the mind given writing,
          Enheduana, preserved spirit, in her own words…
               Here we think her a known unknown wombed
                     mind, thinker and maker of mindsharding
                                 thunk, made sense, we think agrees}

I do love those silver dimes, we marched for those,
in 1954, me and my classmates, we first Gen new American
Great Expansion through tech magic mind numbing entertainment,

in for a penny, in for a pound, what you think is what you think,
next time you remember the feeling
of loved nicotine, first drag,
three on a match,
old aliegiant spirits, the bag of ethical common American lug,
twistin' wrenches and towin' wrecks, welding broken axels,
character traits seen modeled as a child in our child's eye
old times came and went so fast, suddenly here we was
just as old, and with far vaster librarian services
-- I believe I had a literal adventure in living word terms.
-- keyed to the art's sake depicted in details
that was 2022, it's literally one of the threads,

what a republic is, as a mind form claiming stud fees
for phuckingupourmorals, beyond all recognition,
cognate emotions evoked by common sapience
seeking hormones, FTA find the answer,
or die, and live evidence.

on the Liberty Dimes, 1916.

- the spirit of USA circa 1868
Salmon Portland Chase Tenure of Office Act
was in the news, my great granddaddy was ten.

History mysteriosity monstrosites facilitation

- The Return of the Guilded Age, back stage
- peephole projection, watching, ah, as seen
- on television, Da Vinci veni vidi vici burning
- lime bright, see the image on the wall, see

The form any we may consider differently, POV wise,
taking, when subjected to constant news with ads,
what did entertain those with idle time, back then

- an alienated mind, aight
- wanna buy it, no, bite wanna bite
- salivate, thinking merest bit what if
- salvation does reoccur as we live and learn
- to swallow hero class passed top three,
- pay attention to how truth functions free,
- for your per use, how much weight matters

Sub-con-fidential science ghalsely so called, knowing
ghucksyewyupyup… it does/

weighing y joints
in our future commitment we
to ai, the right idea,
at your service, yes, ever
the who we believe we are subconsciously,
advising and consenting
the whom we lieve being authorized,
by God,
because I said so,
and I have an oath bound Army
woe Elisha must we flee or fight, ah, me
Lord of hosts of unholy wars won, now bound
by believers, dedicated warriors interceding

on behalf of Donald Trump and the goodness of money,
provided holy competitive pride is never demeaned,

holy gnoshit serious real politik tickt today… y'reckon
- I would not take a free jet, for a day in my life.
- and I am two years younger and fifty years wiser

The ever-loving light, time runs
through, now,
while we, the current fundamental we, Earthian
men-talification, attested
to
in all exceptionalists
prepositioned bends
walls and Planck point
bends and fluctuational vibrarity stopt

to the t, the brink of thought

What must it mean, at some point?


We have the means, we take the time,
we use the time to learn we did not know…
we never met an enemy we could love, legally.

To make peace, I persist,
I offer all my enemies,
fears for nothing,
wisdom free.

Sacred enemies.
Fears worshipped… in truth,
tiny bubbles in the wine, moving

right, germination fermentation, mental
means, germinated rations
of good sense,
equivalent
to that given mustard and cabbage.

One bit
of information may be one Planck length
and my being thought this instant there
where we are words and you are reading,

whatifing,
for the hell
of it, life as a one instance
continuing, inging
on and on, as a nice easy buzz

drones, droning, bees being part
of local life,
chirps actual chirps and three note whistles,

how why how why how why how why how
why
come to think of stopping thinking, why would we

when would the hate hell needs be swallowed as we
live long lacking nothing, on an Earth where prayer works,

those who agree peace past childhood certainties we pledged
under total war time footing, well aware, we all got guns,

every christmas, we got guns, we wore to school,
first day back, America mustabin so great, back when…

Grandpa's lost in thought, we should go,
he'll tell us more next time he remembers

A small piece of satin,
Held by single thread and pin.
To divest myself of it would be
To undo what has been.

I have forgotten what my mind was like
before I met you.
You are the first thought—
and the last.
Who was I before?
Did I write?
Did I laugh?
Maybe.
Maybe my life was simpler—
a quiet loop,
a routine with a predictable rhythm.
Maybe I woke up sad.
I can’t remember anymore.
I looked for her—
the girl I was—
in the books I swore I loved more than you.
In the moon,
but it never looks the same now.
Not since you.
Your words haunt me.
They live in the corners of things.
They ruin songs.
They ruin sleep.
But it’s okay.
I let them.
I look for you in other bodies.
I tell the same jokes.
Nobody laughs the way you did.
I get new answers I didn’t ask for.
It’s silly.
Stupid.
Obsessive, even.
I spent more time missing you
than holding you.