You said I love you I think
I said What do you mean?
But I knew what you meant
That's exactly how I felt

This is how I process
My thoughts
My feelings
My ideas
My beliefs
My actions
My trauma
Everything
So if you find not what you seek
I'm sorry
It's just how I think

I still think about you
But do you too?
When Laying at night
With everything dark in sight
Counting the ceiling fan blades
As your awakeness don't fades
Yet staring at nothing to see
Do you still think about me?

I sit at my desk
The window’s open,
Or it's shut. I don't remember
But I feel cold
My hands wrapped around a pole at a skating rink,
trying to keep myself from slipping
On the cool, smooth surface.

I am walking on the freshly fallen snow,
I am thinking

I stare out the window,
Partially obscured by dark curtains.
They are caught on my plants;
Never fully closed,
Never open wide.
This is what makes me think
The inbetweeness that is what makes

nothing good or bad,
But I used to think there was.
I twisted the sheets of my perception until
The bed was unmakable and I gave up the fight
I sunk into the mattress
And closed my eyes

But this monotony is getting old;
A cut spoiling behind a worn bandaid.
I hated myself for caring
But I now I don’t.
That’s the point. I don’t care about anything anymore
I am trying to hold on to the things that once mattered
But the merry-go round is only going faster
Soon enough I’ll have to get off.

I am looking out the window
Because I can’t focus on anything anymore
I let my eyes glaze over
Because it's easy
Painless.
They don’t focus on anything.
Everything is white, white, white

Daily on recollection of what you are,
Teach finding found in retrospect.
Automimic transmissive self.
Didache epiousion,
pursue our own happy state,
taking the granted goodwill done.

Cosmic inspiration,
not bread alone, teach each phraze
enough good sense
to feel a way
when darkness sets in,
to stay,
do not attempt
to change station
when suicides, all say, see, told you,
all the ones we know, and some I didn't,
linger as reminders spun
to when lives end,
unfinished, abruptly,
by entropic right,

step outside the fire circle,
be swallowed by the night,
step farther into the night,
be swallowed by the stars.

Feel the massive black hole,
spinnorially tying edges
to themselves, up
goes down, in
goes out,

ever, as far as
mortals are concerned.

Living at a gallop,
the last mile of the way,
laughing at whys nearly lost
in my dust of disintegrable missed
opportunities to force pi on phi,
making flowers open ever so
slowly in sunshine dust so
fine one must believe so

simple a child can hold the idea, as
sunbeams hold motes for eyes to see.

Galloping away,
dopplering an oscillating
instance recalculation allowing
a second glance to hold a century.

Agree to testing,
partaking not in legal usery,
calling the whole truth to judge.

Full measure for a life well lived.
Envy not the talent, know the meaning,
weight to cost of potential use for something.

You, there, listen,
lend me your ears,
let me hear your take on precise measures.

In spirit form, we may imagine, we are,
on either side of the loop thrown
around us, was it once said,

dang me, ' oughta take a rope…
hang me cut me up in pieces,
let me symbolize the cost
of FREEDOM, in will, fall
in love and wonder,
why so many lie,

she threw me for a loop, like
a centrifugal railroad mag-levitating
behind a star tied in macro manifestation.

Yet, the whole thing remains beautiful,
at scale.


Ink, where no ink is,
skin, where no skin is,

lifestyle game divisions,
fans only, believers only,

wordless worship paid
as attention, aimed at that,
training taken in after domes
enclosed crowds as big as Athens,

when Socrates corrupted the youth
in training to become guardians called

by God to honor their constant pledge,

and then,
Jesus
appears, with signs and wonders,

and the messengers make evident
the degree of authority involved,

good will, of the highest order,
most complete good will there

ever was, ever before, done
on earth, as it ever is in heaven.

Or, the story is unbelievable.

------------------ scribal note
2024 Ai advises one to know:
a talent's worth is variable, by use

Ancient Israel: used to describe the value of gold and silver used to build the tabernacle in 34 Kg chunks.

New Testament times: used the unit to represent a substantial sum of money, equivalent to 20 years’ wages for a common worker or valued between $1,000 to $30,000 today
Ask your titular agent teaching you,
In the famous parable, who passes the test in Psalm 15, using foreknowledge?

i want to talk to
nobody i want to think
to nobody

Reminding myself that I am not alone
in thinking there is a collective conscience
library that has been made accessible, but

to readers, only, and within that set,
to readers who read for life, to live,

letterly, let be, let see, let say, what if,

or wonder if, let us see, let us say, today

where you were when I was in process
as an explanation
of an adversarial approach, a strategy,
accessing a push that has come to shove

me into your comfort zone, to force a will,
a will submitted to that thing you profess
to know is too true to think two ways,

trick is, digesting suggested gulps taken,
earlier in our mindstreaming, thinking sure,

the good, the good
in being alive, good for nothing at any rate,

making no thing, seem likely how as spirit
feels, loosed, to seem likely why we think

we breathe, half time in, half time out,
day by day, we live and breathe, and assume
the position we were led to believe, ours
to hold as true, for the rest of ever after,

our purpose on earth, laughs in our heart,
and wipes a grin across our face,
and once more
-wordflow slows, so back up,
can occur,
yes, imagine the loss,
back up, clogs old reasons
arterial distinctions excused
as essential legacy worth sets
where your treasure lay unseen…

earnest as any disguised gay Nineties
entertainer on the society pages,
lo, long after Turing was made example of…
- rude gay abandonment, so sad, liar
dies to convince some school board,
we all make up minds, we all may let such be,

scriptural, let it be written, thus it becomes,
for those who know it, this is it, do as we say,
or die, as seen when tyrants are dramatized,
on TV for all to watch, minimum reading cost,
to bring the masses together in one mindframe,
withing our gestalt Earth earth mindshare,
through wishable otherwise moments
we make bend with a laughing what,
twist, and spin, and twist and spin, thinking
ifery was were ours, see, we agree and think
a free minute,
and let it fly, to become another just
in time right move, made with no prejudicial
estimation of the attention cost needed to use

a free minute.

On the brightest of days you were by my side,
And on the darkness of days you chose to hide.