We're all good at something
For God's sake
Stop thinking you're not creative
Stop thinking you have
nothing to offer this world
You can't sit there watching TV
Wondering why your life is so dull
Get off your *** and try things
Sew something
Keep a journal
Make spaghetti
There are a million and one
forms of art
And I assure you
You will find something that
sparks a fire
It will come naturally
and all at once
You'll know exactly
Why you were born
into this world
And what you're going
to make of your time here
You...
My friend
Have a purpose

I dream of falling without fear
Off the cliff of safety
Into the clouds of possibilities
That cover the bottom of this
Mysterious darkness
And on the way
I learn to dare and at last hear
True sound of my voice
Certain as never before
I'm alive indeed
To scream of that which
Never left the prison
Of my mind
Embracing those who hear
With open power
Gift to those who stayed behind
Not calculate my steps
Not count my words
To be squarely in the middle
Of that which I cannot feel
Do not belive
I recognize
The voice of truth
When tears hurt my eyes
When urgency to run or grasp
Overwhelms me out of my frozen casket
Not like anyone else
I breathe and see and feel
Presence of those
Who make my soul vibrate
With deepest notes
Worth all the darkness
All sadness
I ever knew
To feel so deeply
No reason can comprehend
But unavoidably I recognize
My destiny on the way to the bottom
When my body
Will breathe no more
But in the last second of my flight
I knew I lived
And loved as hard as I had strength to give
Of myself, inside out

By Arcassin Burnham


Subsequently locked up in your world from
faucets that I wash my hands from Thinking
about your incense And what it does to a man
like me mentally And physically embracing your
love  With every aspect of my human Genocide that
practically provokes my pride and takes away the only
piece of me if you died......
I loved your heart  And your intelligence,  
Got your back against the wall Halo bound , your soul Heaven sent,

You better make your mind up, do you want me or not?
You better make your mind up, do you want me or not?
You better make your mind up, do you want me or not?
You better make your mind up, do you want me or not?

The simple things I'm telling you result to things I
Make you believe in constantly changing your opinion
On life and death and lights in Japan making you wonder
Of the consciousness in the back of heads saying you
Better make you mind up
And I was tortured by your smile for long , it made me say things,
I was looking like I've never kiss a girl before in the rain,
Which I haven't,

You better make your mind up, do you want me or not?
You better make your mind up, do you want me or not?
You better make your mind up, do you want me or not?
You better make your mind up, do you want me or not?

Sunlight braids rained onto the dusty folds of our parking-lot-like schemes,  'cross the gaping leaps between our sentenced deaths with the occasional intervals of blindness; lighting the path torrents for black light on black, and the little hopes, still held back.
Pocket poles and bullet collars decorate the walkways to the stockyard, where we piled our words and promises before; we stood bare and helpless to the passing winds that swept the misty passages empty, through the urban woods of vanity and fair.
Still the overtures sound light carried on the sealed whispers of the distant dream; that we would live! And portions of our existence rest down the wasted years, on the rocky crust pavements of a river. Floating streams of living things that pass down into oblivion, with their faces cold, and impotent smiles alike.
Perhaps the fading wonders of the breeze one midnight would sweep me away too; perhaps it will take me on to you.
But this that extends down through the rot and the veil of beasts, in to light the flares of a broken heart... It was not you! It was something else, something awfully lovely; it was totally something new!
A father's dream set into the breed of a pointless purpose also set into the wilderness and into the vain colours of a feint folly for greed; as the vacant corpses pose the prose for fortune bring, and for the songs we sing.
Beatitude in the sense of a crime for the sake of a lesser scream; a voice through the void that echoes against the street lights shaping the crossroads to hell; the tolling bell! The little left, gone and strew.

A.r. Bazian
*Written in 2012

Feel the heat
of a genuine passion
burning in your meat
like a love in old fashion.
They don't know love
like I do,
to embrace every thing
that makes you.
A shooting star
falling from space.
You know who you are
and that's tough
these days.

Body heat is extracting
the way we feel in collision,
something so everlasting,
It's much worth the impaction.

All I did was get high
Then watch the world turn
Baby it's real
I felt my soul burn