there is a shape you are
the shape of a
cool
cool river
on a hothothot
summer summer

summer summer
day
day
day
day

(liquid cool;crystal between
the heap of your femurs
there is a tight tight
song of inside           ) i can and can you

hear
the slow and droop
of your crystal body
twinged with the caressed
lance of
awful day     (Let's Night) .


there is beach out there i have been to in the summer with you let's go

The masquerade has just begun,
Unconsciousness has prevailed.
Welcome the formation
Of mental objects perceiving
The mind.
For this Is not the first time,
It has become
Alive.

A storm constructed from the winds of the immortals.
Shattering from the sky like glitter, entering the skin of mother earth.
A primordial awakening seeps through the roots,
sprouting a creature, robed in a silhouette with
dogmatic virtues. Unsure of the purpose of oneself,
Fed by spoon
the knowledge of the divine.
Formulated,
worshiped, conceived throughout the history of time.
A chalice filled with vital fluid, a symbolic birth of lies fills the eyes.
Partake in the masquerade,
drink it, allow it to enter your veins.
Open the flood gates, let the torrential downpour of tears
spark the heartbeat that lies beneath. Create the imagination, activate the genius.
Manipulate the disguise, a false design shattered, only by the intellectual mind.
The untamed creation of the human reign, let us rise.

Hard to pin us down, an interloper built for one cause,
to disrupt all the visions that we stir around.
Rip the motivation from our skins, mix it up in a ***.
A stew blended with just numbers,
throw them in, brains, limbs and all.
We're not using the knowledge,
so let us pay to devolve.
Sinking deeper into the ground from which we came.
Once a mystical entity, now a puddle of disgust.
Mixing in with the rain, and rust.
No longer recognizable, no longer do we posses trust.
Inspirations and morals dissipating in the vapor,
vanishing into dust.
A name not worthy to remember,
a story never to be told.
An idea we can't fathom,
a sinister manipulator we can't tame.
A distortion of our dreams,
something so vain.
Creating an algorithm of words,
creating a tale of reason.
Leaving something stranded to ponder,
while wandering in the chaos,
reminiscing in the mind.
A creature seasoned,
helpless,
bitter,
old.........out of time

I imagine him so                perfectly          without       -       me that when he's       w i t h me       -      I don't even recognize him.

the politics
of mirrors
lies out of sight
while the frogs in the pond
fashionably late
sing the swan song
of separation

no-mind-all-one

the ******* tree fruits teeth
and eats itself on impact
leaving behind no trace
of heart beat
or throbbing veins
but instead remembers itself
on the earth as a skeleton
bones made of the
finest silver set of dining wares
for to feast
on the slack remaining
weightless brain of a thing
that spins the circles is sails
like a tailor
in a fire