I saw a psychic
for the first time in my life;
it was horrifying.
She audibly observed
the tremendous pain in my eyes
and somehow picked out
the simultaneous emptiness and confusion
that I feel welled up inside of me.

She went on,
pinpointing my chaotic last four years,
me, struggling to find identity, and
looking for it in material possessions
and other people.
Telling me of my father's stubbornness,
and how that's not all I inherited from him.

I was scared;
because every word sputtered
exposed the innermost parts of me,
and spoke razor-sharp truths
to whatever it is that inhabits my core.
And she told me,
foreboding and omniscient,
I could overcome these troubles
if I find god again
and in that moment,
I felt that she might
be right.

But the worst piece of knowledge
she bestowed upon me,
was to stop looking for love;
instructing me to cease the search
that I've become accustomed to.
And I hate that
she's probably right.
And on the drive home from downstate
I prayed she wasn't,
because that would mean
even more years alone
with myself,
and I don't know
if I could endure it.

black and fuzzy and walking through a vivid nightmare of things moved around and skewed. rushing and a sharp zephyr that grazes your skin and rustles your hair. its incredible. there is bright light. burning my retinas and pushing on my brain.

i walked around again last night. pulsing in the temples and sniffing e+++rs or whatever you call them now. the urge to binge boils in the pit of my stomach.

infinite visions of infinite timelines of infinite versions of me and myself and everyone around me. my bougainvillea froze and slowly obliterated my memory. the page turns and the blur comes to wipe out the color from my eyes, shut now, fractals danced and the phosphenes came. then stuttering im coming out of it. what?

is this? what is this? another shallow poem that considers itself? low art on the internet begging to go viral? an avant garde approach at a genre begging for something new? just a puff of smoke?

the yellow is nice it takes the sterility of my surroundings the color of it all drained and depleted. at night I choose the sterility and let the colors sharpen and blast.

the smell of earth. that dirt and wind smell from the rain and the loamy soil. the imagery and lucidity glows in the background. feeding on my periphery. come and whisper with me.

Inner voice, hello, there you go again
You come and you go but your usually the same
You know so much yet I still distrust
Listen to you intently now this is a must

Intuition,gut feelings, higher power and more
I hear you, I feel you, deep down in my core
It's a gift that you were given aged five
That gift you were given, it's kept you alive

It's taught you some lessons, both good and bad
It's helped your emotions, both happy and sad
It's made you quite blunt, you call what you see
Losing friends and lovers, that feeling is key

A form of protection, an inner radar
knowing things that others don't, especially from afar
Energy and vibes also known as sixth sense
You're lucky to have this gift but your ******* intense

It was solitary,
Seemingly erected from nothing and nowhere,
At a time when It was unknowingly
Needed the most.

A purple haze enveloped the base,
Faint neon light buzzed,
Mimicking a heartbeat.
The car engine finally conked.

Desolate and enchanting,
A siren call if you will.
As it is in life, hesitation seeps
When you have a choice to push some buttons.

Purred to life underneath the initial caress
Inner motor jarring to action.
'Discover your fate.' The tinny voice announced.
On a dark and lonely road, the question apt.

"Could it be you have fought what you
Ultimately seek.
The courage that ebbed, introduced you to
Weak."

"The passion that once burnt has
Tainted your soul.
A bigger picture unseen,
Left you unfilled yet whole."

"So turn around and be gone,
Live life like you do.
The car engine didn't die.
It was never about you."