writing, more than considered normal.
especially with the distraction i've
brought. reading back more, and
i'm surprised time-to-time at the
style and such *******. and perhaps
this is hell. perhaps. *****-driver
as only way out. think about it.
perhaps this is in truth Samsara.
perhaps. then the question why
this vessel is a failure. purpose and
reason for this reiterate. perhaps it
was the purple highlighting of some
sacred text. perhaps, but digressing.
thoughtless with head throbbing as if
coming up. lack of slaap, lack of true rest,
and the hallucinatory aspect has kicked
in. a bit late. though, the wind
looked awful wavey today. and red was
quite loud. perhaps only a hang over,
if only that logic weren't quashed by
absence of rainbows and unicorns.
perhaps if only, but digressing.

taking place at bar after rare occurrence of
an early night. ordered a single whisky and tall beer.
the drunkard opposite found agreement in the random
statements i interjected between him and blonde bartender.
cheaesing his Miller to my whiskey because of false-statement
passed through these winter-warped lips. cheersing, to words
that are false belief. if only to retain him to placated  stupor.
opened book of Style, left-to-right this hand underlining sentences
and rectifying the self-criticism ever present. talking louder,
   'i just don't hear as well as i once could.'
he orders another but sends it to vacant chair adjacent mine.
stumbling, moving from his ritual spot. sitting, he claims
his upbringing as Southern Baptist. after i announced the
denomination to my rearing in childhood.
   'you're a christian, good.'    but
i don't have the heart to elaborate upon the crazed and
pantheistic beliefs i hold in truth.
   'you were baptized and saved?'    i lied,
for truth is my soul will burn in hell according to this man's
-- self-proclaimed sinner -- drunkenly spewed theological underst-
atments. his words slur as he falls into elaboration of Bible conspiracies.
adding a few
   '*****'
                      here and there,
and always in concern of his opinion of Muslims -- awkward.
my boss in background chimes; we had a similar conversation
moments before. now my words betray everything stated during
prior moment. i order another beer then excuse myself to ****.

drop the anxiety and apprehension
face the chance at being reality
ask question of the forgotten memory
                     remember the Godhead?
allow a gaze to lose focus; to fixate
in open, fall back, point-for-point.
                     remember disconnecting from the birds?
recall the countless faces; those to fall behind.
                     remember the Great Mouse Detective?
re-encounter lone asphalt-walks. dewing Spring morning.
face the actuality of being reality
                     remember an ultra-blue sky in contrast?
***** spider; scared scree snake; melting with
polka dots; cats of demonic tongue; a mirror to drown
in; and familiar bed to end a return in.

let's do this.
here we are the in-between.
statement nulled of either
side. no history forced
past, and only warming up
in this the current aba-
ting long dark. and sta-
nding this hovel does so
with each glance of wall
left to right. realizing
four's advancement has
aided in absence of post-
humous thought.
canvas-flapped arm, just
to mention for the occu-
rrence of these words. just
to mention recurring thought
not allowed history. not
yet endowed with the period
of a past list. an in-between,
a valley shooting gallery w-
here the soul bleeds out to
drown the vessel. deep analogies.
a deeper long dark thought in
retreat, only thoughts are to
mystified and this proves Hesse
true.

impromptu drug adventure.
      (terrible incrimination)
              at an end, at least
enough to pass out.
M-dude hit me up, years
out; i'd given up.
      things fall apart.
shoulda trusted in time and
let allow what will.
      NEW AGE HIPPIESTER.
  been alone a while,
had lost faith. still doubtful.
            always aware of kindness,
         sighting with hoped deftness.
                 mind over matter,
                           just keep swimming.
           (Mariner's Revenge Song)
        to keep their nursery
               nice and neat.
   ***** Den
        of present has been
           christined
        to almost pinnacle;
   the list requires
      a few more things.

                   yeah?

rehashing, redacting words in breath-
less thought. back into, place of
belonging; back for, a time of concep-
tion. then, and always, exhaling tone
of muscles vibrating. spoken, reverbed
of this hollowed body. eye-to-eye, view-
ing a soul outside this vessel; speak
to the eyes to be heard ofa  soul. and
of last breath -- words spoke, never
meant heard of interred. of last breath,
to be out sole compansion of lamplight;
to sprade paper scraps where images of
life were found writ from mumbled
hand. words, those left withered th-
oughts scrapped when weened of
connectiong. eyelids flutter, lack comm-
itment of the soul wandering through
broken roof and heaveward on and
beyond an impossible sky gliterring.
out into some million mile expanse --
some insurmountable spanse not even
Katahdin might hope sought. simple
lamp light, casting shadows, in never
furnished room. they stroboscope with
the fluttering -- an attempt to disavow
final alone breath. a first kiss of sweetheart
named death, but not that from mouth of stereo-
typed sickle-carrier. death with lips full and unpainted;
lips not of harlot whose eyes were long ago shut away.
were long ago gone, beyond this spansed memory. death,
sweetheart of childhood, wavering in the dim light; death,
patient waiting found only from one love lost to the million
mile spanse. sweetheart, with face to ease and supplement of
spirit; out wandering awaiting spirit-loose companion in abidement
of union outside the restraint of physicality. her -- death -- finding
manifestation in shadows thrown through empty space.
cast of oil-soaked lamp's wick turned low; vespers of shadows
ever morphing. ever cooing. waiting to accompany part
and leave pense upon ever-veiled soul of him whom
sought an emanation's first and final kiss of unpainted lips.

sitting ******, writing with stolen
utensil. i've always been such a moral
animal. eyes feasting, far
gone and achieving six out. broken
wings on a gold standard, once
was an eagle springing forth to fly.
spriting free, up and into war waged
from electrons upon humble air;
red eruptions linger above muted thunder-
head. vessel screamed, 'FETTER!'
in hopes to lull and coax a fleeting spirit;
subtlety is lost when of the flesh. but is preachy
of birth-destination in a Western zodiac, and
resolved of thought by dialogue
    at the
       Pearly Gates
     of, '**** my left nut.'
though, censure for words might be in form
of back-handed divinity; cursed to earth
to rot and whither away. absorbed into misted memory
and lost in timed reluctance. fogged natural
memory with delusion brought forth by addition
of deliriant -- cursed to never rest.
    "I never see the devil, but
       I do see demon." though, that was during a time of
much more coffin rehearsal; time before the Godhead
spots of light emanating of Nothingness unto Nothingness.