I suppose
if I could metamorphose
Into a new skin
with wings
and a bigger brain

I would.

I contemplate
that this fate
may not be
the best for me.

And yet

I wait

I will grow
and cocooned in the modern american sheen
Dream of wings
miles away
from an airport or two
across the bay
they wave
from boys in areoplanes

I know
there is great green valleys for me
with deciduous trees
and anemones
and bears that ski
on their big fluffy bellies
in the shadow of some upthrust rockface

I beat
the drum of ****** life
and think the heavy drought of thought
and drink
the steaming heat of dreams

I knew
when I was a zygotic mass
imbibed with life
and stolen with soul

That I would be
The best ****** butterfly
You'll ever see.

How many songs wrote never known?
How many crescendos
lost to the echo
of merciless Fortune's squealing tired tire?

How many words?
never perturbed
silt beneath the oceanic span
between here and fame's centurion?

How long until god thrusts them into day?
to trace glibly along the interstate
for some passing child to stumble upon
and resonate?

How many bodies
removed of soul
Riddled with bullet and dirt of metal
sank deep into the earth and turned to worms
and protozoa
and chirps
and birds
and grass
and bark
and leaves
and trees
and Pax
Humana

How many greats' fate
Do we forget in our mad scramble
and the many fateful decisions
To save
or burn
Their words
and hands
And let Destiny
or Jesus
or Allah
or Krishna
or Mahayana
Guide their thoughts
to greater heights

Of how much
Have we lost sight?

this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but with a

high price of admission, that being the innate circumstances wherein his ego germinates and grows into two things at the same time: externally pleasant and internally grotesque.

this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but with a

long stretch of beach lined with hospital beds, pyres alight to the God of False Flags and Falser Hope, long speeches and poor teachers getting too close to the water.

this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but with a

difference of opinion - the trickle-down economics of not giving a **** about anyone except one's inner sanctum, from the unrepresented in their little mud huts, to the shadow skulls with buzzing sinuses; Everything, Performing the Dance of the Hearse Driver.

this is the way the world ends
this is the way the world ends
not with a bang but with a

whimper, courtesy of yours truly

I still reminisce about that night, that we stayed up
And laughed, joked, and loved each other one more time

Tube worms hellish creature
Centurion of pitch and isolation
No internal altimeter

Pressured to bake and cook life
Take energy from pressured light
Press and push and valve and close
Entrenched, in line to another world

A planet a dot, a dot a spot
a spot a rock, a rock a dot

Wiggle waggle struggle straggle
Life and death, dream and cot

It is hot down here
In passion of dream
and the brain can easily
Overheat

You’re the only girl that truly ever saw me.
There’s no other girl that can replace you.
I admit that I was scared when you first asked me.
I know it felt like I betrayed you.
Take my heart, it’s ready.
You don’t have to walk away.
I promise that I’m not afraid, I mean it.
Take my heart.
I know that I have made mistakes,
But all of me is on display.

And you’re the one that sees me.
You’re the only one that sees me.
I just want you to see me.