No,
I walk my dog.
OK. We walk together.
Well, she's a head (or too)
Front and frontly she
Churns her little doggy
Feet white fur furry furrier
Huge brown eyes full of
(What goes on in a dog's mind?)
I don't know and I don't
Care - this little adorbs
Creature is full of
****, invisible ***,
Mischief, gratitude,
Lovely loyalty,
Warm snuggles (sometimes)
I wake and her nose might
be in my armpit
(Pity the creature who
Stumbles upon THAT)
Just a furry bundle of joy
My dog.
My Goobie.

Time times Seven;
35, 36, ageing
At the emotional
Metabolical rate,
Seconds flying by
Like birds turned into
Hours of sleep while
We work, dreams,
Dreaming of...
Probably table scraps,
Wayward chicken bones
Or other things our
Pathetically inadequate
Snooters fail to notice

Tears well up as the time,
Precious time between
Walkers and Walked
Is reduced to
(sigh)

What do I do that I should unt
Not my head - Yes, my head is
The invisible visible arrounding
My Gordian not mind.

Beavering my dam thoughts
Roof of skull / Well of the
Spitting poison from the snakes
Of memory.

Dizzying array of new
Sensations that my
**** ******-head
(Low water deep;
Clammy dome of sticks as wooden sky)
Trapped am I? Trapped
I am anti-future, or
Post-passed past.

You: lye!
Me: Lyer.
Truth is the surface
Of water; Lies either/
Both above as below.

Steeling thoughts/Stealing memory;
Beavers build domes
Two pro Techt
Selves/Them
In the things of schemes
Am I the ****** or
Am I the dome whence
It hides?

Loving every other side
Of never ******-other felled
Gnawed tree
Outside the inside of my
******. Dam. Existence

I don't chase sleep
Sleep doesn't chase me,
Doesn't even half-two;
Sleep has/is/will have
Non-Existed since before
My body joined the Clock-
Work Greyness that is
(Time)
Clicking away to E
Turn It E, And E; It:
Returning back to...
Mysteries are born, die,
Re-emerge, when our
Senses draw in, rescued
From the Wake of the
Ship that Sleep is

(Some Pronoun)
Has to Pretend to Sleep
The conscious Abstract
Of being slightly more
Vulnerable than when
We were unremembered
Babies, crawlers, toddling the
Dimly-Perceived Tightrope
When we first begin to remember
Night Horse-Mares
Tromping and galloping
Leaving woven dreamprints
To keep our Id from forgetting
To tell us to breathe, water, and feed
Whatever the Ego and Superego
Allow/Disallow

Time is there, in sleep, but
Not of the clockwork count-
Down that is carnal fleshly
Life resetting in the same way the
Terminator says
"I won't be back, I won't leave,
I am always here," like
Past grudgingly releasing
Its soft, sharp claws, Fading,
Fading twilight into the ever-
Wide arms of darkness

Bad dreams, good dreams,
Balancing our warring survivalist
Self with the calm wakefulness
When all three the fulcrum
Of our mind arriving Ten
Minutes before the Two Others

Sleep gives way from the
Inert Vulnerable
To the Alert Unvulnerable;
Sleep is to Consciousness
As Death is to Life

World, emptied of
Love, Peace, Son, Sun;
I'm one of countless -
(Greek: MYRIAD)
Feet planted nearly infinitely
Deep in soil that was is
Has been Will be
Will have been
Polluted not by chemicals
But by the Enemy of Love:
INDIFFERENCE.

And, indifferently, so my time
Passed with God my own self,
God equals $$$
And I wasn't blessed with

God's Providence but, instead,
Thought "Lucky" and Lucky's
Twin, "Chance" or maybe
No sides of a non-existence
Idol masquerading as currency,
But is only a worthless, shiny
Coin
(Dream come true! I won the Lot-
[Lot, in this lot, turned and looked
At the return of ***** and
Gomorrah, and he is
ME.

One moment I'd flying high
With/Without Ozzy,
Sipping one of hundreds of
Very expensive and high
ABV beers in a rumpus room
That is only crap manufactured
To pretend NOT to be CRAP-

And some of my "more boring" and
"Churchy" and "Jesus Freaks" friends spouting
Nonsense about, without quotes the
Actual. End. Times.
Soon. Like, for real? Just around the...
And drunk as I am sipping something
Called "Snake Venom" and it could
Pass for the real thing, and, tongue
On fire and dazed, I see four of twenty
****** up by Light, becoming
Light and all the unmeasured
Joy of All Time is their
Expression, and, and...
Jesus is there, and the time
Wasted worshipping the
World has cost me my
World.

A Voice, calling to some, not
Every one - five words:
DO NOT TAKE THE MARK

There are two
Of
Me

Greedy selfish me Won
And
Me two

Won wants to win
$$$
Two
Wants
Not the dead word
Happy
Not the undead
NICE

But
Joy

I’m dreaming of rolling in
Money

He’s waking in indescribable
Peace

There is no joy
In things;
Joy exists
In
From
By
With
Around
People

Commo
Swimming above the surface, a baby in an ocean of light,
Color, sound, and Mama's Flesh;

Communication is touch, snuggling, sleeping, ******
Functions that are as natural as pooping in the woods
When you're old enough to squat and look around.

But surface commo for a baby boy in 1963 was as profound as
Commo can be, deep as an emotion, and x-times the feeling;
Love easily explained for a creature who will never, upon
Ageing, feel that kind of love, 'cept for maybe,
Dying in the love in your arms or hand, holding for life or...

Lvl 1:
Surface
Hi, how's it going?
I"m floating on top of Level 1, seeing things in detail, yet
For reason some use as excuses, afraid to expose my own
Fear to ask about someone else's mysteries. Trite cliches,
Bland social postings: "Hey, a pic of my old toaster!"
Like, please. Like me, please. Give me your deep feelings
And Impressions that swim 2 or 3 or 4 levels
Be. Neath.

Lvl 2:
General (1-5 star) Infough;
Parts of me are still on the surface, but other parts...tentacles,
Feeling feelers, attachments, yearn to dive down to Feelings
Deep; My feelings are always real, but my feelings aren't always
Reality.

I don't govern the watch in my mind that filters out the bad
Stuff - the impact of the careless, stupid, mean, catty-me OW!
That caused you mental and emotional = negative reactions.

I'm sorry my words didn't edify your invisible foundation.
I'm sorry my words whittled the fragile balsa wood that, often,
Barely keeps you upright and conscious. I"m not used to the
Deep Feelings

Lvl 3: See what's above in my shallow depths.

Lvl 4: I'm 12 in 1975 or I'm 18 in 1981 and girls, young ladies,
WOMEN...even the thought of unleashing the torrent of spent
Pent-up emotions