You feel the burning within, no?
The festering of your morality?
There is nothing so infinitesimal as the meaning of your existence.
But don’t despair, child.
Fear is a construct of your own mind.
Will you conquer it? Or will you die like a dog?
Better to leave this world covered in blood than in tears.
Smear your shame on a canvas and call it art
When we all know that you cannot capitalize on your suffering
But I ask, do not stop
Watching you walk the fine line between reason and madness is tantalizing

I know you hate me, love.
I can feel your anger seethe from your body and ooze out of every pore.
Your mind rots from the fermenting emotions inside.
You want to carve me open.
Watch wine spill on the floor, coating everything in a sickly shade of red.
Shatter the glasses and pierce your skin
Blood is so bright, a stark contrast to the black and white nature of our vision
Splatter the walls in red, just to have something organic decorating your walls
Show the world the artist you are
Paint your face in your medium
Pick up your brush
Tears in your eyes, blurring your view
Can you finish the task?
Will you survive outside of this world?
Can you escape your own decay?

But it is getting late.
The sun is setting on many things, and you don’t have much time.
You cannot **** me in any way that matters, so stop trying.
I will always be with you.
A guide. Mapping the void for you.
So do not fret, dear.
Your soul will be dealt with the hour is right.
No god can save you from the fate I have in store for you.

surrealism
a reality that is augmented, in some way bizarre
out of place but comprehensible
momentarily you're laughing in a chapter of a novel,
sipping wine in a short film,
dancing with your loved one through your imagination
somehow you see the world from such a distance, from the outside
and
in that split second of 'what the hell am I doing'

you just have to smile and move on.

THEN the skies bellowed a frothy glitter    and  d o w n  became up & sideways turned horizontally truthful said the vegan Aardvark.  

THE Policeman chewed his m0uth-side and a Red Ant crawled out from his nostril ****-us (Quatrain 173) & my pillow has luscious lips from some disembodied woman who once cared for me.    The rest of this   delirious-prose is buried in an unmarked book within a discount store on the far side of the Moon.

::02.??.2020::

doesNOTExist).(bellybutton bushy-
  ***** bouncing bleachers

thurstNow is this moment s t retched as a dying
river's tears  holding /tightly\ her shores
  then doesNOTeXist can never be contained
  within finite space ).( bellybutton bushy-
  ***** bouncing bleachers is never a safe
  place for ***.

  :: 02.25.2020 ::

ONCE is less than MORE    but if you go off
allow something to grab you if you fall
   inside pollen-eye bites when you
   taste blue and smell summer zeros hiding
   inside
   a hookah vision ,,__,, defies logic
      bends the Divine Proportion of smAll
   a supra sutra deluxe rule fights cRhyme
      sends the devils running
           higher fly these angels
   so heavy to consider this;
        once is less than more
             is less than
                less
                  |
                  V
                
              than zero
                  0
                

02.28.2020

Am I really home
What is home
What isn't
Familiarity estranged
Causes and excuses
Broken lies
Forgotten promises
We all never made
Who are they
Everyone just gawking
At everything and nothing
At where I stood still
Where is myself
Left her locked up
Right she isnt
Who is the writer
Behind this
Sordid
Distorted
Broken
Poem or prose
Who am I
What am I
Is it me or is it really
You
I am here but not
The existing that's extinct
Appearing while I disappear
Depressed but not
Living like the dead