I’m living alive, so a lie is in order.

I’m tossing your worth in the form of a quarter.

My future will lie in the hands of reporters.

Altered quite favorably by the thoughts of supporters.

I’m living a lot, so much less is a blessing.

Perhaps I’m alive for these thoughts I’m assessing.

In the words of my poetry, for all I’m expressing.

Why is it the internet can be so depressing?

I’m living for love, so it’s life that I fall for.

I had no idea life could be such a tough chore.

And I had no clue that in searching for much more,

I would discover myself all alone and so dirt poor.

But it’s silly to see what is when it isn’t.

From within my mind brand new thoughts have arisen.

All these labels have taken my mind to a prison.

But what seems to rule this world is just fiction.

Or unjust is probably a better description;

As I look to escape old depictions restrictions.

It means…
Make the most of this moment; don’t concern yourself with the future, or the past, or the outcome, or even the consequences because once that future comes to fruition… it becomes your present, and you must make the most of that present. Embrace it. Take every single strand of it and thread together the ‘now.’ Not the then, not the before, and not the after… the ‘now.’

Shatter the latter to the before and after, then take what’s left and sow it all together to create a perfected present that’s pleasant even to the likes of a peasant.

Just make doubly sure you’re presence is felt in this pretentious present,

Because you’re wanted and welcome, in this hypnotic heroic that is everything to you as well as a collective too.

Stage your very own private and personal coup;

*** you’re due.

What is a fear of death beyond ones fear of whence they came? You are not alive, if you were not dead prior. Our confusion and misconceptions are signs of something unsightly within society; an idea of cause and effect. There is no cause, and there is no effect, at least not beyond the ***** conclusions of the human mind, which is, in effect, all delusion. We're neither fools or saints, and it doesn't matter what you wear, where you're from, of what you believe in. We are all one in substance and one with the true and natural matter of the universe, when we're ****. Also, trust me. Being **** is only rude because our crude minds have altered the context of *** and what's beautiful. Disgust or attraction from ones naked body is a sign of our losing touch with reality. Do you prefer the looks of one tree to another? If not, should you care if whose **** is your girlfriend, your mom, or your brother?
This doesn't mean you should be sexually attracted to the latter, and not to the former... but one must understand the difference between nudeness and *****, because *** is beautiful, at least when it's normal, and raw.

*** is no sin, and nudeness no vice; sexists don't win, and nudists don't fight.
So pass me your bullets, artificial like clothing; put down your guns, a production of loathing.
Insecurity flourishes in Converse and cars, in defining whats right to Prime Ministers and Tsars,
So lift up your fists and break all of your fingers; allow all the pain inside your hands to linger,
Make doubly sure your trigger finger can't fire, otherwise that same finger may make a peace lover a liar.

Are we all higher than the primal sweat we perspire?
Yes; when we find it in our hearts to inspire, and not expire the souls of ourselves and of others;
To realize we are all but sisters and brothers,
Living as lovers,
In love.

Exhaustion.
What a curse it is;
Awake yet better asleep,
And barely alive,
You just can't contribute to the great bee-hive of society;
And as we all know,
A working-class hero is something to be.
Yet the sound of a jet in the sky,
Or the silence of a fish in the sea,
Is no longer what seems of intrigue to me.

I'm lusting for an end to this linear life,
As delineated is a rare yet delicious spice;
Otherwise were in a great maze as a puppeteers mice;
And the differential unpredictability never fails to suffice,
Or entice.

So on the shores of the sun I question the rain;
As the sun is omnipotent and other weather insane,
And like a bird, space-ship, or a pilot and plane,
I use gravity as my balancing cane.

Or as the waves lick the shores of our earthly sands,
I walk alone on this beach and rest with a hand-stand,
As I see the clouds down below, and the ground up above;
With all of this strangeness,
I have fallen in love.

The flightier folk find solace in pain,
While I move around dancing in the rain;
And the long stories of life,
Or biography,
Perhaps understanding is always the key.

So question me in my fatigue and see what I say;
If you want the truth,
You can get it today;
I'm exhausted, and the truth is like the moons-ray;
It gives me an excuse to find a place in which to lay.

My mind is too musty,
And to wise to go pay,
For capitalist endeavor on such a fine day;
So it's over.

Dice the dead mans diligence like a Dillinger or Challenger,

He gained a Dodge Wrangler like a sad handler of emotions;

Perhaps all of this is more potent than potions or consumer hand lotions plus alcoholic haphazard;

Yet I consider the price of anything to be lice on everything,

Like a fat woman’s sullen song,

The sounds still ring in the lingering enclave of my eardrums,

Which breath waves like air into my lungs.

It’s sundown,

And therefore, I’ll see you soon;

Yes, I’ll see you soon, moon.

So very soon.

When the sun peaked down behind the frown of the clouds,

He smiled.

He had no choice!

What else was he going to do?

Wallow in the worlds new-found darkness?

When the bullets didn’t stop, and the guns didn’t drop,

And the murders and robberies still occurred worldwide and on top of it all,

He smiled.

He had no choice!

What else was he going to do?

Wallow in the worlds greed, idiocy, and blatant barbarism?

When his phone rang at the dinner table, and he discovered that his wife was emotionally unstable, and he got electrocuted whilst plugging in the cable,

And he discovered the real-life truth to the story of Cain and Abel,

He smiled.

He had no choice.

What else was he going to do?

Wallow in the fact that the past can’t be changed, or a previous series of events cannot be re-arranged, or that he would rather die than have his wife exchanged?

No.

When the world had its hands around his throat, or he misplaced his coat or remote, or fell victim to an arrogant mans gloat,

He smiled.

What else was he going to do?

He didn’t feel like falling into the same misery trap that you do,

Because he knew that trap wasn’t truth, and that misery is aloof, unlike happiness,

So… He smiled.