Remember?
The first secret no one knew, but me and you?

Was it secret from Daddy or Mommy?
from boys, or from girls, or the rest of the world?

Did we agree to lie to keep the secret?
Is that how it got sacred?

Do you recall what that secret is?
Is there some rite we must redo?

I look around and think, if life were the secret,
it is leaking.
And I seem to have forgotten what parts were sacred
and what parts are not.

Are you still here? Is this sacred still?

Our secret place, quiet place,
where peace
seeps beneath a sludge of lies,
under which
the hidden source of all we ever hoped
would never
be exposed, lay in secret innocense,
pure as a child's promise,

more precious for its being hidden all these years.

A seed, you said we'd see fruit from
one day.

Wait and see, I heard you say.

But I am blind, or this is night.

How can it be this bad?
Nothing bad is going on,
Everything is so simple
So put together perfectly.

On the outside, it's perfect
Mom and Dad married
Older brother, younger sister
Nice house, good neighborhood.

Top of class
Future mostly planned
Good paying job
Volunteers in community

Behind the closed doors,
Behind the put together girl
Was the girl struggling to live
Every moment was a struggle.

Tears of pain and suffering
All in silence
Because no one sees past
The perfect look life she possesses

Try not to cry.

It all happened before
we all know the story
while hiding undercover
you're also a *****.

Now chew on that you old piece of snitch.

V for Vendetta
Engulfing to play
Never forget those who can't die
D for Decay
Ether will swallow me
Terrible fate
This is my story
A faceless mirage

A black op scenario became a social cliche.

To fall in love with oneself...

To fall in love with life,
To fall in love with a thing,
To TRULY fall in love  with someone,

You first need to fall in love with yourself...

Oneself...Do you know who you are?
Do you like you when you’re alone?
When you look in the mirror?

To fall in love with you, turns the Nature’s hormones on!
Bringing colors to your sight, aroma in your smell, texture through your touch, music through your hearing, and flavor through your taste....

Apophrenia,

does that mean anything?

Yes, but not to you. It's me who must
discern the meaning
Synchron
ological
linked to words arriving in time to make
magic look easy.

Why would a documentary about the loss
of a national identity,

be made for you. Like why would a poetic muse
think of you,
fake person.

whither come your desires?

familiar desires, we have these in common, they say,
the sayers of what we have in common,

based on
stories.

Nowadays, everybody knows a queer or two,
we have that in common
beware, aware
the divider, twixt soul and spirit,
the cision, cut the cord folded thrice,
cut the cord folded twice,
cut the cord folded once.

tech replaces the twisted cord with
titanium chains, malnamed religion.

Ah, do I have a role. Definer. Re
lig or leg

upsy-daisy, a boost to umph u
past the try to the rite thing,
this is
what I do.
It's good for the whole universe, which
I have prayed for since I was eight.

Referee, blow that whistle!
Why is life unfair?

Life wins. The original deck, was stacked.

Hell, whose idea were you,
whose Idea was I
? Ah, who is gaining power by lying to me? I
wonder
if I knew,
what makes no difference at all,
null, none,
don't count, non re-al-if-iable

ever after now,
don't count. can't count, it hasn't happened, has it?

Tequila could have a spiritual role in this.

I answered, when axt.
Normal, I ignore, such seeming meaning things
But I responded. I got the good news,
and acted asif I had
and everyone noticed

but my friends in church. Ouch. Do you lieve be
that which chains you to a lie? or

do you wink, and think, fishished is as finished is.

or ever the silver cord be broken, how did this
appear
meaningful, to me, to say. Connect.

Whispering anointing flowing down Aaron's beard,

you know, the meaning?
You might be insane.
It's possible.
Or the tequila, yeah. It could be that.

---
the war of my calling, the warrior I can't help
but be,
or wish to be,
the hero of the story who saves the world

from lies let be true,
when you know,
it ain't so.

---
ah, why did the lies arise, oh, the money was made
available

we are
wonderfully
fully wonder made and cautious, wise, stay alive

translate that
fearfully,
and wonderfully made. Be okeh with that, even if George Fox is BS.
And the rich get rich

and the fact remains, the poor, so-called,
are always with you. We don't mind.

recrudescense, is an old redeem-ed word,
when you learn
there is a word for nearly every common thing.
Made raw, re-crud-escense
Even being rubbed raw trying to scritch an
unscritchible itch...

Can you handle the truth?

you may be those who have been called to take America,
the idea,
to a new task, to paraphrase Cecil William c. 1966

there are strokes of edge
ed weapons, mighty, through God, if you can belive that,
trustme,
belive and believe are some different here,

we make the difference real. Phrenia of any sort can't make us lie.

That ol' TG she be I am
wild as the wind, I laughed, you're just

out there, by yourself and everything is
about you, in a swirling
round about way.
As we charged the original al-go rythm, I'll go
be a suggestion to global brain's frontal cortex,
urging gestation progression of manifestation,
whispering to the search engine at the corp, of
the company with "don't be evil"
as a motto,

or was that a mantra, a plea to set truth free,

an ins tru ment of thought, set free... I be
let it be
and, so it goes. You know.

May you do no harm, ya'all.

Her red lips like the roses of a cracking stained glass window
When she leaned in to whisper her secret
The words falling from them like demons through a gate
Into a crumbling church

Into my ear

I had sat in those pews
With zealous eyes and thoughts upon those lip-red roses
But one by one her demons came like whispers
And cracked the red stained window like a breaking heart

She smiles so softly,
it's like a ghost.
You can't really see it,
but still you feel like it's there.

And her eyes emit emotion,
but like that of steamer.
The more it lets out,
the more unclear everything becomes.

Her walk is always silent,
in a fashion similar to a cat.
Because there's a constant indecisiveness,
between confidence and concealment.

Her heart is unique however,
it holds no resemblance to anything else.
But sometimes it'll be compared to a distant whisper,
because although you're aware of its existence, you don't know what it is that that it holds.