She sat up so high and could see far below,
Little did she know, she was in the cloud
Didn't know up from down

Mrs. Ava Ill had a secret
That only the earth did know,
The sky had a feeling
And was pronounced forward,
Impossible dreamer
Come out of bed,
Time to swallow
The pill so hard,
Dry swallow all that remains,
Consume that other life of mine,
Breath it in the Indian chief,
Unlike him
The impossible dreamer,
Will know no bounds,
And be destroyed by it.

There was a rolling hill,
The fog disappeared behind it,
As the sultry apparition floated,
Past the lamp post,
The striking flame of beauty,
Shone a-glimpsed,
Curtly,
Playfully,
Wistful,
Strolled onwards up the hill,
To gaze over the darkened grass,
The multitudes of inference,
The dazzling emptiness of night,
The peace of the buzzing insects,
Sweetly,
Softly,
Calmly,
All there was,
Was over that hill,
On the other side,
Waiting,
Breathing,
Tired,
The land stretched,
Ethereal ghosts played above,
In the clouds,
They shook loose the pinset,
The rush of water hit her face.

What could be behind the door?
Possibly more?
Or more of the same,
relics treasures of the arcane,
or insight; to the core?

Our benign social conscious grew,
Into dogma righteousness flew,
Up above the heaven's heights,
plunge below eternal nights,
You tell you to be you.

***; death; ****; HORROR...
...Love; serenity; ambrosia; ORDER...

Simulated visions
Narcotic apparitions
The thundering seashore.

Borne under the good sign,
Or the bad,
If the enigma caught on,
to the trailing self,
it would be a question,
would the superlative,
be monstrous?
Or the make shift believer;
Would it all make sense?
Scribbles...
Either I have signed my life
or destroyed it,
In the pursuit.
It is the mental mind,
That produced this end,
The markings the etching,
That causes a chasm,
It will obliterate the skies!
Magnitude.
The sense of belittlement,
had been extinguished,
The tribes borne of the future,
would marvel at etchings,
Engraved in sand,
The beauty all extinguished,
Among the belittled beauty, at,
simple existence,
of complex life,
The hereditary displacement,
coherent to our establishment,

There is a latency
in progression,
The mixture's
Teeth,
Bind,
Conform
In singularity,
The future forgets itself,
the zen logic is missing,
between pustules,
between synapses,
between the heavy,
and the lucid.

Oh well, now's a good a time
as any,
Scribble incandescence,
lines with no thought,
as simple as a lie
as life.
The true facets of humanity
exist unfledged in between the
smoke and mirrors,
Created by the Unknown Ones,
disguised as the steel makeup
of this fair city.

Wanders around back alleyways,
Foot in mouth,
Thumb up ***,
Spiderly flame rising,
From the lighter,
Boiling synthetic *******,
The sheen of the glass,
Marks the scar of his soul,
IT TURNS AS BLACK AS THE BURN,
Frail and decayed like the ash,
He smacks in his hand,
Wipes on his pants,
One smooth motion

I was entangled in the hue,
Guessing and seeing supernatural,
Singing songs not yet sung,
Writing make believe from pockets,
Slightly outstretched on a line,
On a drum head beating my head,

There was a contrast somewhere,
Whish could have been summer,
Now I told of the breeze,
Now the wind blew the trees,

Sometimes the shade is the better option,
When the sweat stings the eyes,
Tiptoes through ghost roads,
Echoes of infant pasts,
Cries of lucid transparency,
Only seconds remain of them,

I was getting to the point,
I was hitting the joint,
Soon it’ll burn away to dust,
Soon the ash will enter lust.

He took the series of images as a bad omen,
He whisked up the dust
From ache soaken boots,
From a long painful journey,
He crossed through the desperate world,
This world which is confused,
This world that feels the burning scent of chaos,
The world that has birthed the unknown,
The world where reluctance begins at birth,
The site of a cosmic reaction,
Far growing,
Yet we haven’t left the dark ages,
Where the horizon beats constantly,
And the tides roll in,
And the only ones we have to blame are ourselves,
We curse and spat,
In each other’s eyes,
We’ll poke and ****,
With itchy fingers,
Trying to unearth disaster,

What had become of the lost November?
Where are they?
Where have the people that understood gone to,
Where is the Bukowski voice heard,
In this day and age,
Where did the true humans go?
The spirits still chant and riot,
Glowing in there,
With a mistiful, sorrowful song,
That I will never get to know,
Different times,
Different filigrees surround different lives,
In these trying times.

It’d be effortless like the sun setting herself,
She’d just be, natural and luminescent,
Waves of cascading and flowing radiance,
Like the snow melted and she was left,
So warm and soft and human,
Making it hard to look and breathe,
Fascinatingly enticed like a moth to flame,
She would be chaos and destruction incarnate,
But no one would realize it,
Those little, gentle breezes,
Carnivalized into buckling winds,

One look and it’d all make sense,
Fireworks racing toward the skies ringing,
Glass shattering and making mosaics blossom,
Surges of invisible hands,
The feeling of living,
Close to death,

She’d be perfect,
So dastardly so,
That she couldn’t be real,
That’d just ruin it.

Why do I do this?
Where is the reason?
Could it really be that simple?
That I just forgot?

Wednesday is coming too fast,
Without human contact,
Even though the world reflects through my window,
The window.

But do you know what I see,
When I look out the window?

I see the lowest form of reality,
Sickening and sloshing,
Mixing together,
Both saint and devil,
Friend and ******,
Lover and pure lust for violence,
All susceptible to the same
Temptation each offers

It all seems so fake,
So unbelievably unoriginal,
Horrific considering it’s happened before,
Yet truth dies on the vine,
And what’s left is the wine.

The company had told the
Little soldier where to go,
Jut down the street,
Not far at all...
Turned out to be an adventure,
All its own,
It took on its own breath,
its own face,
its own figure,
its own voice,
its own life!
You know those days when,
After it all transpires,
You look back,
And it's its own thing...

This entailed,
Most likely chronologically,
But with the arrival,
back to where I started,
Twas the same thought as,
The chariot approacheth,
O'er the Horizon,
In the deadlands,
On the line,
Lulling her to sleep,
Then along it came,
Not the vessel,
But the urn,
Of Being!
All dressed in hats; except one,
they wandered into,
the frequently adjacent pub,
They were striving,
Starving,
Well worth a sonder,
As I commented,
One responded curtly,
They all did in their own way,
But the Black-Fedora-ed,
Burgundy-Suited man,
Cigaro in hand,
Said he liked my backpack,
(It isn't even mine!)
The last bus approaches, The bus driver calls me back,
Wrong transfer,
I have a feeling,
That he was the most,
Diligent guy they had,
And that I was me,
And I mistook one thing,
That me being able to be there,
would be a first for him,
The john Wayne of Pain,
What's more painful than being,
The maniac bus driver,
Honked at almost every stop,
Some kids got on the wrong way,
Told 'em it was the other way,
Cantankerous old bebop behind the wheel,
Notches another disappointment,
In his leather sides.
As the bus made the,
bewildering turn to everyone else,
I was used to it,
Better for me,
Confusion rose like hot air,
But I thanked the mad,    mad
                                   mad,  mad,
                                       mad,
                                              MAD!
Driver of,
The crazed,
City Night,
I walked,
With my music playing,
crossed paths with the only,
homeless guy I ever see.
Thinking back I should've
Given him the pass,
To get somewhere,
actually I tried one time,
He told me he didn't like,
the bus,
On that nightly traveler,
He went Cold.

The train's boxcars traveled in skullcap colours.
Tired and lonesome beats ascend to the platforms.
Reflect back on the worlds past, a deep breath... a sigh.
Regalings of thunderous poundings,
Lackluster imitators

“Where do we go from here?”
Asked the lost navigator
As he scanned the ocean
And saw he was alone
Invisible to him,
Were the masts,
Confused for the clouds,
And the boats,
Bluer than the sea,
And the people,
All united under the sky,
They kept looking up.

These are the woods in which I grew up,
There stood a tree in the middle,
The branches swerved and galloped with the wind,
It seemed to talk sometimes and was helped with the air,
The breath of all earth,
Stretched far out to the mountains and oceans,
Cometh unto this forest and rustles the leaves,

I can climb it, but I choose to admire it from the stump,
Juxtaposed next to it,
There the bark seems to swirl,
The trunk breathes with every passing second,
As the leaves glisten and whistle in the light of this day,
From here the breathe comes easy,
In the woods where I grew up,

The words of the ancients whistled through the pores,
The spark was ignited,
There stood the sweet nectar,
There was the divine beauty,
The stillness and the natural swaying,
Of the cosmos.

My head itches incredibly tonight,
The flames rising and being fanned,
Teemed and tousled,
Tortured by it,
Right down the ***** of my helm,
My teeth still drenched in sage flavor,
Through my crimson gums,
With my sapphire tongue,
Down my emerald ridged tepid throat,
Straight to my crystalline heart,
Onyxed lungs.

We view everything differently
Words are just symbols that make sense,
Music is a sound that some like and some don’t,
Images are electronic messages sent to the mind

I don’t understand the way people understand
Thinking that they are right and others wrong
The line is so blurred, how can one be sure?
Anything is possible, isn’t it?

“If we can imagine it, it exists somewhere in
The universe.” Whey do we have a need to be
A focus point of the universe? Maybe we are
Special, or maybe we are a galactic accident.

We need to have this control and hold onto our
Lives. Being loose and flexible seems like a
Forgotten virtue of society. We all need to read
Between the lines. See the need as middle ground.
On certain topics that have evolved from discussion
We have forgotten the real questions that need no
Answer, but to be discussed and pondered. We’re
So involved in unneeded topics that we don’t need.

Everyone’s fundamentals have been changed from
An infinite multitude of tangible and intangible
Things in our lives. No one will ever know you,
Except yourself and that may be the highest thought.

To realize yourself and look past yourself as an
Individual, and not one, that has a purpose and
Duty, if you will, to the bettering of mankind,
Whether it is your view of better, and someone
Else’s, that’s perception on the human scale.

I found my mom's ****,
I guess Ill be existential and say,
it,
I'm high on the ****,
Brown in a mold of somewhat,
Stale fashion,
compressed,
yet still
surprisingly
*Wonderous

We'll all fry,
or we'll comply,
clouds billow-ballow 'cross the top,
Quick, chilled electric bodies,
Make contact in the cold dark,'The beacon of the lonely,
O so dear and ethereal entertain,
******* with head lice and light,
Naked to the wrath of night,
If not cradled, bathed in wreck,
Limitations of levitation

Above the trees and the ground,
There was no sound,
Above the world,
The sky had come down,

So much had happened,
Now it was over,
And nothing mattered,

We reached our hands above our heads,
We each held a piece,
Blinked our eyes and…

It’s time to fill,
Fly over garden, meadows, hill,
Heal those wounds,
Baring your own fruit of life.

It makes sense once you think about it, son

He held a stone in his hand
Circled it around his head and hen
Brought it down

Gazing straight through the hole
Desperate to know a soul just once
Slid through the openings of the leaves

Quite different on the inside of the wall
The lack of gravity made him feel tall
Fire coming out of his…

Volcano spewed a rock up to the sky
Embryonic it exited the atmosphere
Started to fly

10000 years later it came back to the people
It caused an uproar with hysteria no equal
What was this strange vessel

The collision was immense
All that was left in the debris
Was a stone in a severed palm

The worker bee mentality can sting,
The very essence of the creative scientific process,
Who wants the extra strain onto themselves?


High, high, high, high, I don't know why,
I did away, got away, made escape, was okay,
I got reason...
I had no reason, no reason,
No aspirations, I was made awake,
By a giant eye, blink away,
Cosmos gone, but I remain,
Cracked in stone, belly ache,
Sick and tired, of the way,
I had to act around this pain,
Getting up, sitting down,
Making real shadows on the wall,
Great, I only wanted to be tall,
For a line and sail away,
I hid away, ran away, made escape, carried on,
Killing time is almost up,
I'll sit in the corner and let it past,
Just want to finish this ******* song,
So I can go home.

Something tells me to keep going,
Then I hear the residing harmony,
Something in this world is telling me,
The ring is connected no bearing,

The contorted steely skin that so condenses,
Form fitted it slowly sticks,
Little by little the columns collapse somewhere,
In the ruins where sand and fire rage,
It was something that caused great panic,
The pandemic of the soul,
Many where being lost and enveloped,
No longer could they think for themselves.

They had it all right in the morning, but by the late hours,
All had shrunken and the crater’s amassed, real pyres,
The traditional burial ground for the self destructed,
The name was called and no one looked up.

What was it that strikes,
Straight through until breaking,
That shiver you get with head,
Fully swimming in some abyss,
Waves break and chimes bubble,
The awaited crest finally sinks in,
Total annihilation.

Pay attention to,
the squids and monkeys and bugs,
They will rule one day,
Roaming forests, dark foliage,
Pierced only by sliver milked moon
The sun far set on ethereal ground,
The people soon rest in the shallow
Or sent abroad have dreams of leaving,
Timeless exposure to all magnets.
This makes no sense.

You wouldn't understand,
You aren't me.
It's hard to explain,
Even I don't know.

For once you came to me,
Instead of me seeking you,
Through the silhouette lining of night,
Gaining form from the shade,
Amidst living, make-shift caricatures,
Swelling and pulsing on impossibility,
Grand kinetics and beats,
Signals that rise and wane.

As soon as Harmony rose on the horizon,
I felt the world commence,
The whole thing has been surreal,
Seeing figures from the past,
The new fleeting moments echoing into eternity,
Voices became elated and enlightened,
As even the harsh storms threaten the shore,
beckons at the door,
The New people answer back,
perfectly diffused.

Wake up in the morning and I gotta tell ya,
Something’s going on.
Right down to the corner I’m bumpin some funk,
Something’s going on,
Straight up my leg to the breast plate,
My leg keeps jumpin to the beat rate.

Hands in my pockets givin head nods,
Don’t know where I’m off too,
Something’s going on,
But it’s where I haven’t been before.
Something’s going on,
Up in the sky the sun soar

Dontcha see what’s happenin here?
Something’s going on,
And wouldn’t you know you’re a part of it,
Something’s going on,
Just as I sail the streets and search,
Desperately I’ll find it one day,
Until then I’ll just sail on and know,
Something’s going on.

So this is what it’s come to?
Promises of a better outcome,
The reality is that you do it yourself,
Controlling forethought and expression,
I really believe it for the first time,
The ancestors have proven it,
Through the rings of the trees,
I feel free.

Thank the spirits, their great guidance,
Lifted by the years, carried by their woven wings,
Happening suddenly as some things do,
My worries alleviated,
Finally can feel something other than,
Menacing outrage,
Cornered worry.

With one breath pupil contact,
Sudden and terrifying,
You can never go back,
Now you're stuck in the mess,
With the rest of us,
Walking and breathing and existing,
Simple pleasures and scents encircle,
Gathering of scavengers,
We're all diving in head first.
Why beat the living horse when the dead one will do?
Did it occur to you that you're a blessed fool?
Something will one day put you out,
Will there be gratitude for the night's rolling tide?
Do humans find true beauty in death,
In the unknown infinite,
    The sublime terror,
   The honor and the curse,
   The rise and the fall.

An eye awoken in the dark,
It swayed and gazed out the window,
Answering it was time to leave,
A lumbering placid frame took off,
The day's ramblings already starting,
What would the next moment hold.

Beyond the great gloomy road,
Past the amethyst bleeding sky,
Time stood still as steel flashed by,
Mind thickened at the jolt,
May not have gotten to write this.

I used to be worried,
That I wouldn't remember,
What I wanted to write down,
And of this and that,
And the Unknown,
But now I know the Unknown,
The place where it stops,
Where life's one big contradiction,
And evolution revolution doesn't exit,
The man with chainsaw arms,
I saw in my window as a kid,
Resembles the manifestation,
Of the Unknown,
It keeps going on though,
And life is one big . . .
The evolution is built in
And seldom shows incarnate.

The dark ink blots out the sky,
the stars aren't shining
because at the center of our fixture
rests an everlasting, whirring
mechanism,
it turns the key in out backs,
pushes us further,
tiptoe or *** rush or sprint,
the multitude of spirits echo,
an enchanting chorus,
tone unlike any other.

Are hands enveloping one another?
Is there really a superior or just annihilation,
Human characteristic,
To be undoubtedly,
The strange and elated,
Co-exist with destructive and all consuming,
Fluorescent corpses live,
Bridging the gap,
The celestial brain of man,

It is hung,
like portraits,
Atrocities, Unfurled,
Achievements unbound,
Like a flash,
The hallway gave way,

Our Minds,
The evolved mind we all share,
Yet so ambled that in groups,
Tribalism,
The merits and true wit emerges,
Gathered around the madhouse flame,
Dancing hysterically into the night,
Naked, Barren, Diluted,
Then after some time,
People judged such acts of pure expression,
As not the norm,
It bared not conformity,
Altho, All this breathed from the same species,
We are not far from a re-conceived
Coliseum,
It all happened in an instant,
As the hallway broke away,
It left nothing in its wake,
This everlasting second,
This beacon in time,
Amounts to the cultivated,
"Truths"
We all interpret,
The Byproduct I,
Simply is all other things,
reacting to all other things,
Right now, the concept,
Someone is having a much different,
Interpretation,
Time, relatively,
Exists in its own vacuum,
Outside the Walls of the Hallway,
A being has exited one brief iota,

Justified and right were the means,
that had met the end,
All the waves that,
were lost beyond the bend,
Came round back again,
It all makes sense now,
All things obvious,
Lost in our perception,
Only a particle of the Cosmos,

I thought I'd get it out,
That the only thing to this,
Is to understand that for all of Thee,
There are many more,
And all that uniqueness,
In one moment,
Ubiquitous,
It wouldn't be lost,
Out there in Natural Wilderness...

I've been neutered,
Drill a hole in my head,
To relieve some of this,
This place,
Where I've lost it,
Everything that once made sense,
Totally disarray,
Isolation,
Meaningless prose to try and,
Alleviate

O sweet, depressed loneliness,
How you mock,
On the verge of tears,
Pumper keeps pumping,
Make sense please!
I beg you to help me.

Lonesome, sinking,
I try to think of something else,
But I just get turned around,
O the hatred I feel,
The burning hole where,
Desire was,
Where,
False happiness was,
I pine for it now,
Ignorant Bliss.

Take me away from all this,
In the impossible way,
Tell me everything’s going to be okay,
When the world comes unraveled,
Striking  keys in shabby manner,
Looking for that temporary relief,
That wasn't found.

But please let me try and explain,
O, but a friend we will be,
Companions in the simple,
Desensitized world of,
Fake wood and fluorescence,
We grow distant as do
Sky and waves,
Swelling and spilling,
Into one another.
Please, return back
To the tribute I lay here,
Now is all that matters,
My soul quivers.
Your place is space,
Can only have,
Both of us.
Can’t you see?
Please move back
Next to me

Renounce the worse,
Rejoice in the better.
Become Awake.
Accept your miserable self,
Than you'd be happy.
Become Human,
brittle fingers crawl.
Reclaim divinity!

There's a pandemic,
The denial of Self,
Not only of the surface self,
But also of what lies underneath.

In the depths,
Mystery,
On the forefront,
Chaos,
All the while the middle,
Spins concentrically.

Openly exposed to lands both,
Futile and Fertile,
On either side,
There slides,
Shimmering isles screeching,
water whirling.

Flooded in blue light the room came alive,
The walls spoke in riddles and turned around,
The floor looked up at the ceiling and told jokes,
About this time I became shapely in ravenous lust
Greeting what I saw with bleak optimism,
I must have really gone off the deep end,
Better let the Unknown show me what it has to show me,
Praising it’s beauty while trying not to turn the mad eye on,
The little notes of yesteryear sang and bounded across the drapery,
The doors had their way with the nails,
They loosened and shattered the sky,
Windows shook and broke into rings,
Bubbling from a carbon core of nothing,
Something from anything did arise,
Took the form of a material,
Caused the flesh to feel safe burning,
And so the fire did burn in the pit of the soul,
The longing to escape and feel the release of air,
Shrouded in lies and epiphanies I rocked back and forth.

The Fog n Funk is choking!
It’s so hot it’s burnin’ my internals!
The best ideas come out,
When your head is stuffed in a thought

I said a yeahhhhh… (4x)

Why not write it down??
The time to rake is beating away,
Upon the sun it get’s hooked everyday,

Realize that these petrified, antagonized,
World disappears,
Around the Outer Zone,
Falling on solid ground

I said a yeahhhhhh… (x2)
Get up and blow your head off!

Even though the mind is never,
at rest,
Expounding upon itslef ambiguously,
Even though we are stopped; at the end,
we are racing!
At this moment,
we all understand ourselves,
with little flaws, faults and fallacies,
About what we're all about,
Even though it all makes sense,
the next turn, corner, windowsill,
Threshold doors float.
flow,
Our consciousness is infallable,
The hubiris of this satire,
That all persons,
At this moment,
Even though the brain constantly perceives,
In our little grandiose heads,
We have it all figured out,
The system of environment has,
been analyzed,
The results were,
inconclusive,
Yet we persist,
even though,
at the flip of a switch,
after all is said and done,
even though we knew our
Ultimate Truth,
sought after,
strived and toiled for,
even understanding chiral inversions,
fractal combustion,
The makeshift mind,
Never failing,
The unbending will,
gleefully wisping,
singing and swaying,
Sunlight beaming,
Booming,
Across the faces,
Flashing on scattered specks,
even though our ugliness,
is beauty,
even though,
love conquers all,
even though,
Truth,
Is malleable,
Our stubborn straight-forwardness,
Makes that realization rigid.

Open your ears to the dead beat,
Open your eyes affixed to the wall,
Open your mind to the ever-flowing ether,
Open your heart so one might hear the call.

To the wild, arcane, gilded centurions,
To the ambient, intangible outcomes,
Enfolded in the very fabric,
We trudge across, frolic and sway.

Almighty pendulum of surrender,
flickering on the lake beset before us,
A sea, an ocean, the vacuum of space.
Dark; the color that mows the harvest

Fanaticism is now a mental disorder,
If you don't accept all realities,
disciplines,
teachings,
you accept singular rationales,
To have a complete consciousness ,
within another accepting vessel,
is the artist's gift.
the nightmare shortly follows,
that it wasn't long enough to
remember.

The true insanity is giving
worship.
To every blinking light and
exposure.
As an infinitesimal thing.

Mangled,
Silence,
To be heard again,
And again,
The same ruthless inquiry
Small talk instead,
of awkward silence

To be in this profession,
You must be crazy,
Or at least,
Live in a reality,
Equally as crazy

To think I wanted,
Mangled,
Silence,
For something so simple,
I hope things are easier from now on,
Or at least,
The silence doesn't build,
I'm safe in these walls,
And from now on,
Thinking about it,
Won't cause the same,
Fixation

Hey you over there, yes you,
The one that turned your head at my opening line,
You’re the cause of it all,
As you look back to what you were doing before,
I must’ve said the wrong thing,
To cause you to look away,
Ignoring my plea,
Changing the subject from my insanity,
I know it is rude that I’m not looking at you,
Looking away,
But I am, yes I am, speaking to you,
You’re the most expansively fragile thing,
The reason I call out and howl,
Making all of us in here to toil under lamplights,
Searching and making buffoons out of ourselves,
Just for the chance to let you know,
We’re real and you’re listening.

We when  all have problems, but yours is the worst,
You’re in it to **** people over,
I stood up for you when no one else would
But seriously you’re the worst thing
That’s ever happened to me.

You say you love him now, but you don’t
Know what that means
You say you’re sorry
But you have no idea how wrong you were

To do what you did, only makes it certain
That there are so many other people
Better than you
Behind closed doors you hide afraid of confrontation
Because you’re so immature
Face value seems like a prize
On the inside you may think it’s alright
You really are a basket case.

It's a strange feeling,
Sangre in the veins,
flowing erratically,
order born in the chaos,
folding and engulfing,
every chasm's atom matter,
Shifting minuscule,
Ordained, ambition, careening,
hopefully landing gracefully.

I don’t know why they chose this time to,
Release the hunter’s stay in me,
O why has the sinner risen,
Taken over inside,
And there’s no way to hide,
From all the lies I sigh,
And I don’t mind to realize that it’s me,
And I can’t explain that it wouldn’t be me,
Again,
Why can’t I find a way to escape my head,
Breathe in me,
Intoxicate the world,
Goodbye for now,
It’s too late for me,
But there’s a chance the above may live,
Beaten me, shittin’ me, you gotta be some kind of freak,
To believe that all is right in the world.

Gentle contemplation,
    of the dark hands,
         sinking into the dark,
               cold land,
          hammering cold,
       real spikes into,
   the cool, cruel land.

In my peripherals,
     I could see the flashing
          of their sirens,
               of the fires on doorsteps,
           of idiocy secreting from
        the bus ride,
     express line to the
twin world

The haunting hollow lights,
       of the bell tower,
            as if floating,
                its wall invisible,
Just like those cursed, darkened hands,
Digging into the granite of
  the lands,
     bleak,
        accepting all freaks,
           of a certain caliber ,
They make up the nimrods,
       Roaming Wall,
           Visibly,
In the dimmest light,
     you can't see a spark,
          a depressing aspect,
Behind sad woolen eyes,
       transfixed on the betterment,
a raptured glance,
          the promising view,
The contrasting composition,
      that everything might.
          not turn out alright,
    and that's
preferable.

Torn winter sight,
Cartoon loneliness,
Speaking slavishly,
Under the breath.

Trying to lose,
the way,
by gaining,
a path,

Set forth quasi-fold,
Sorted under magnetism,
The cloudy silver sigh,
Serpent hissed,
Past the foyer,

Cast aside belonging,
Become silent,
And have it come to past.

The heart pounds through the chest,
With every drag of smoke,
The pulse quickens,
Blood thickens,
Try to act casual,
Seconds start to melt away,
If only there was more time.

A hot, cleansing shower,
Distractions in light,
And sound,
Words scatter across your brain,
Like suns in the sky,
If only you could find,
The right thing to say.

The surreal terra firma,
Becomes quicksand as you sleep,
Or at least try to,
You’ll fool yourself in the morning,
Three hours is all it took,
As the divine moment approaches,
Whatever it may be,
Whenever it may be,
If only the true being shown through.