Those who thought it best to
swallow the traces of their roots and
float above so called ‘primitive’ gestures
found that the growth of those fibrous
nerves didn’t end in the guts of their
devourers. Soon enough they would reveal themselves once again as a reminder
and a revealer of what truly is.

We’re all standing in line
                            at the creature harvest
And I guess.
                          This is the best crop.
To digest..this process

Residual slime trails amongst
endless concrete plains
An excretion from yr mucus membrane
What an odd mechanic be your(yr) existence
Catching rays which may also be yr doom
And the shines glimmer on the dews
Shiny tip-tops: behold the grass towers
A city of stars along the lawns
Fowl performing melodies
Searching for a tempo, breaks the beat
Because it’s intrinsically
there, within, everywhere

..What was meant was never said and what is satiable isn’t fed upon. Long to be that faun in a misty meadow, lounging at dawn on the grass, gazing upon the peaks of eternity. What are we learning and what’s with the misuse? We tenderly abuse that which we dwell on. Claiming it a love letter, when a Better view reveals(in a peeling manner) that these are just clingings of a scrotal piercing fashion. Latching to these attachments as sacraments of dependability, nullifies valued spectacality. The pureness to the core of reality and the mess is a beautifully delicious birthday cake which never ends

Cats crawling in miserable contempt for the formulas placed upon the plate of their valves. Strongly resisting cryptic soundboards, longing for songs of the origin tunings. Sometimes is the mask of a soothing sort never forming to resolve to cure. Misplaced purity soars in all directions but can’t be detected with these clumsy instruments..

I hope one day our echos
can become new enterprises
and maybe I can be less self absorbed
Respond casual
Laze a bit, play with symptoms
Crawl around and sift through yr sand.

Instead of watching the ducks mistake my falling tobacco for a bite to eat

The heart of people
   It’s not an ideal
  No single concept can encompass it
  Reflecting patterns
   Yet defying yr notion of a set rhythm
    Lifting spirits, shattering planets
It will destroy yr life
         -How it’s perceived at least
      Our perceive, can’t be made to believe
         In fully
              Or bully serendipity
Flashing clips to form into structure
       Basic survivals
         Adverse to that can be Her Glory
           Nature
     Because the strive can equate to
          Be alive, not think it

Existence does not withhold It’s Will for ‘supposed to‘s.

I am a beast
                         A child of darkness
I exist in multiple realities
    
        It cannot be helped

in a sense we're just a present tense expulsion
Refuting the rhythms, playing escapism
     Thr'out's weaving flawless textures
       Mapping exact, luminous essence of gold

Purity reign,
                        process.
                         ­           symbol.
                                              ­inferred.

--So it's like, no matter whom or what, we happen upon is a reference and different aspect of yrself, having its own experience. Trying to figure out certain levels of understanding, depending on their function of balance.

                  That's a mighty sweater
                    to be displaying on that pop-up ad.
              And it's a ****** shame, somethings
                      even have to be mentioned