Eternity is closed !
- come back another day with
flower smears for eyes and sincere
passion on your
palms          (weathered)

I need another Russian Doll -
Princess to frequent curtains
fashioned from fire & lead
equaling out to crimson folds
which mysteriously call to
the mystical hierarchies of
imagination

Silent requirements signal beneath the steps
which welcome
one (a stranger/
an Ibis-Beak cane & dark coat
stamped with August rain)

They arrive unexpectedly, as if to play the game
of cliches, they carry promises fashioned in foreign ports
tapping my knee
instead of my shoulder
having only known or recognized
entombment
                               (there is no hyperbole which lacks within
                                Nature's haunted heavens)

My strange visitor leaves / glass umbrella
in hand / to privacy / our brief interaction begins & ends with simple eager undertakings implemented
in the afterword  

What is in another's contemplation of me?
whiling in manifest Theosophy -

- Thought form -
Primal child-rage / whisp of violet smoke &
inksplotches abolished, mutually panting.
Our decorated
four-legged hunter
has arisen and impatiently
craves for the Earth to partner at last with
the Sun

..The Sun a blazing dime
I can smell crispness
in the air

Does every moment of pleasure,
Have to be reduced an equal amount of pain?
One can be lulled into this false notion
If they choose

Nature dictates no!
Pleasure exists as a reward
While pain signifies damage

I prefer
Seeking the elusive happy medium
A true balance

An unquantifiable flux,
Never equaling the same value
From one moment in time
To the next

Inner peace
Like a circle
It never ends

season's come and go
my yin yang remains constant
through rain and sun
through death and life
the compass remains fixed
frozen in place
searching for a horizon whose existence is uncertain
my famine and abundance
once leveled the scale
now my famine is overwhelming
like drowning but not able to die
but forced to relive the process of death repeatedly
plagued by the natural need for love
it cannot be removed, destroyed, ignored or exchanged
left unattended it grows desperate equaling to enslavement
still sea worthy i follow my compass
hoping for the storm to end and the shore to appear
i no longer wish for the treasure just the glow of land

a dream
a wish
a star that dies in the black sky
unknown, lost among the billions and billions
never to be remembered

Conscious how below self awareness motives can be.
Subconscious no matter the state.

The density remains linear; all drawn in pen
to attend to these feuding desciples
of being “super” and the instinctive relliance on idioms,
of actions portrayed further than words,
finding balance on this epicenter
of egocentric dreams coined all along the same metaphor.

Sides- to what ever shape of form of the matter ,
linear at point we all eventually
dive/urge finding another
point above or below
convergence in light
to change focus in volume/mass
equaling (1)ndividuality / decreasing the density of situations

Mine is a generation of taboo.
We are tribal tattoos and cheap motel room honeymoons.
We are slander,
and slang,
and brittle teeth.
We are born-agains and suicides.
We are podium preachers and cracked-pavement prayers.
We are melted plastic and oxidized metal-
sometimes we gleam with the Liberty Green of corroded copper,
sometimes we crumble with rust and stain calloused hands.
We are the last stand of Art.
We are the manifestations of forbidden bloodlines
and insanity.
We are just as much our mothers
as we are our fathers,
and we are everything that they are not.

We are stigmata.
We are red paint on white canvas.
We are fast food coffee.

We were born to the sweet smell of formaldehyde
in rooms dressed in florescent white
that share plumbing with the morgues
beneath the linoleum floors.
We are the mix of ***** and innocence that lingers
in the kiss of a dimly lit basement.
We show and we tell but always only for the right price,
the wrong reasons,
or the promise of an exchange equaling to the feeling that
this is a mistake.
We are rosary beads counted between gnarled knuckles
and dragged across smooth palms that long
to sweep tear salt from flushed cheeks.

We are Heaven's lonely singles.

We are skin stretched out too thin over skeletons.
We are the complexities that machines can't calculate
much less imitate.
We are the futile cries that once tried to keep towers from falling
when the sky came crashing down.
We are the pardoned and the withered.
We are the hardened faces of those that have
worked too long
and been loved too little.
We have been told that the safest place for your soul
is in the hole of your chest,
but only if it's reinforced by
four inches of concrete and steel,
and strapped tight with a Kevlar vest,
because they said people,
at best,
are manslaughter.

But we have never been great listeners either;
when we were growing up
we pressed our hands to hot stoves
even though our mothers said not to,
because we couldn't just be told what it was to burn
we had to feel it for ourselves.
So every now and then we will crack open
our rib cages in the hopes that someone will come,
light a fire,
and decide to stay.

We hopelessly spray paint things like wings
On deserted brick buildings
So that, at the very lest, we can feed the
Hollow-eyed passerby the belief
That these streets still have guardians,
Even when we, ourselves,
Abandoned such ideologies in
backroad dumpsters
along with our deities’ infidelities.
  
We are the period at the end of the sentence.
(Or maybe we are the ellipses...)
We have redefined the American family
and proven that even Christianity knows how to hate.
We were raised by sixty-percent divorce rates,
yet we still believe that we are soul mates.
We are the jokers of the deck:
either smiling fools or wild cards.
We are cocked heads with smoke billowing from throats
coated with blisters and cough syrup.
We are back alley scavengers crawling on all fours.
We are the era of the Auto-Tuned voice,
proof that with a pretty enough face anyone can sing.
We are foggy mirrors with smiles drawn on them
by print-less fingertips.
We slip up the thighs of our lovers
and swirl down the drains of sinks with chipped paint.

We are the hearts in your hands-
Crush us into powder and brush us across your face like Indian war paint,
Give us up to the sky so that we can be revived by lightning,
Dance to the rhythm that we beat,
Squeeze us and watch as we seep through the cracks of your fist,
Conceal us in your pocket and only ever speak to us in a whisper,
Or,
with all your natural voice,
sing to us
songs about thunderstorms
to wet the dusty desert dirt around our rooted toes
in the hopes that we will blossom in the most vivid colors.

Just do something with us.

Don't sacrifice us to the tops of lost bookshelves
to collect dust
or rust in the rain with everything you once loved
but grew too old for.

The average person sleeps 1/3 of their life!!! So by the time you hit the age of 30 you would have already been asleep for a DECADE! That would make a 30 year old only 20 years young in awake years! Haven’t you realized , as we get older that the time starts flying more and more?!! Here is a list of averages that shows where the majority of people spend their time .

1. Eating--- 32,098 hours translates to 3.5 years of our lives spent going “yummy yummy yummy”
2. Driving---The average person spends 37,935 hours behind the wheel. That’s 4 years! Depending on the commute and of course city driving good luck.
3. TV---The average American watches 2.8 hours (quite conservative I’d say) of Television each day equaling over 85,000 hours which equals 9 years of a person’s life!! ( not to mention video games)
4. Working---from age 20-65 a person with 2 weeks vacation per year will average 90,360 hours----10years of the 9-5!
5. The internet----28,300 hours surfing the net (that number will rise)----equaling 3.2 years of life! That’s a lot of Facebook updating and youtube videos!
6. On average a women takes 40 minutes to get ready to go to work/going out---30,000 hours adds to 3 years of life. LOL get in the car already!

Did you know it has been widely studied that it takes approximately 10,000 hours to be an expert in something? Imagine if we didn’t have to sleep 1/3 of our lives. Over the course of a 75 year life we would have roughly 219,000 extra hours at our disposal! Enough to be an expert in 22 different fields!! Well not sleeping is obviously ridiculous because we know everyone needs his or her beauty rest and eating of course is a must. But what about the rest of our time? TV is cool don’t get me wrong but to give a decade of my life to watching “CSI and dancing with the stars!” I mean I’m already giving up 1/3 of my life to sleep. How about work? Do you love your job? Does it just pay the bills or maintain your level of luxury? Do you really want to spend another 10 years just paying bills or acquiring materials in between sleep? How much time do we spend angry, jealous, getting drunk, or gossiping? Really here is the big question, how much time do we spend caring about what others think of us? Women I hate that our culture makes you feel that you have to look like a god. You are beautiful just how God made you and your heart is what a man should spend time on. Life is short. What are your dreams and gifts? How can you use them to bless the world? Where do you spend your time and how can you spend it wiser? All glory an honor to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He died for you to give you time to know Him for an eternity. Jesus teach me to spend my life and time wisely so I may Love as You have Loved me.

if only i could assign
numbers and equations
to the feelings in my head;
a universal value system
even you could comprehend.

Because then I could understand
that when I think of you
my heart swells like
one thousand helium balloons
and my feelings for you
are approximately
one million, seven thousand and two.

i’d know that how I feel
when you offer her words
divided by the times
you’ve made me smile
equals the lightness in your eyes
when I catch them on mine.

I’d tell the doctors that today,
my sadness is about ninety-four;
equaling my disdain for the mirror
multiplied by the pit in my chest.
and he’d tell me to laugh
until I felt like a trillion.

Maybe it would make sense
when people ask,
“how do you feel?”
and I simply reply,
“zero.”

he sat bedside with his great grandmother
stroking a hand laced with what he saw as
tiny blue rivers, flowing from a thin wrist
dammed by ancient knuckles

boulders chiseled by eighty-four years

he read from his book while Mommy
dozed in the chair, and nurses squeaked
in and out, all with half smiles he could
not decipher, for Grammy was sick

and when his mother was awake, she cried

he hadn't seen her tears before;
he tried not to look, preferring his book
with its pictures of the sun, orbiting
planets and mazy moons

and spaces in between where heaven might hide

he understood most of its words,
and none were of heavens--unless noxious gasses
and swirling clouds of dust were the winds which
whipped through the pearly gates

but his seven wise years knew that was not so

when he turned to the page of the
penultimate planet from the sun,YOU-ruh-nuss
he discovered it took four score and four years
to orbit our star once

math's mystery may have eluded him

though coincidence was not yet
in his lexicon, and now he knew Grammy
had her times around the sun, her eighty four
equaling one for the great tilting Uranus

Kaiser's hiccups
/are/
   and \were\
   legendary
and probably
  |will be|

having a little break cleaning the house, after having taken out the garbage, the dustmen always come later than the postman, around 2am, i'm guessing my street is their last point of call... which suits me just fine... the house was almost entirely cleaned, vacuumed, floors wiped with detergent... ugh... **** it... lazy fingers... i opened up my guitar case, the PIECYK (amp) is ******, i still have my first ever acoustic guitar but i'm missing three strings, my electric still has all 6 strings... i'll get some jam out... i haven't practiced in years... i figured: if i can't find a drummer... if i can't find a bass player... try the mandolin outside a girls window once, give up the dream, put a poster of a rock band on my wall... do some art when i'm completely "out of it": drunk... poetry: not a most spectacular art... well: it would be spectacular without all the ******* puritans of form, rhyme and: meter? they call it a meter but not a metre? that's a bit like telling someone you weigh... that's mass in kg multiplied by "X" is... 999.6N... ah... i know... science shoved it's pickled brain into casual talk: the distinction between weight and mass... mass came after weight... weight is still commonly expressed foundation akin to height... but it was a welcome break with my seemingly dead electric guitar... dangled a few jangles and jingles of remembering when i used to play... Silverchair's Shade, Red Hot Chilli Pepper's Under the Bridge... Eric Clapton's Layla... Link Wray's Rumble... Grieg's in the House of the Mountain King...

only today i realised that people are truly lonely...
odd... when i was in my utter depths of despair:
no one came... but who did come? me!
i picked myself up, no one was willing...
but then... coming across a descending /
an ascending choir of song in an empty church
then hearing a great wind disperse the singing:
i did have my technological asset with me...
the hallucination, the, "hallucination" was so potent
that... regardless of putting in my headphones
or not... the singing continued...
it was only when i scuttled and hid beneath
the altar and took the altar cloth off the altar
and covered myself momentarily with it
then starting running around the church like
a headless chicken... i know! i know! i know with
a BURNING I KNOW... if i uttered a word
i would hear the wrong reply!
either a god descending or a devil ascending...
after all... either side has a singing choir...

people are truly lonely...
i'm alone... loneliness is something that
attracts people to me...
i can't stomach loneliness...
for me that's like... the cul de sac of former
extroverts having an orange with no
orange juice to trickle down into a glass:
half full? regardless the optical misnomer of
calling the same glass: same... half empty...
i am more than willing to do this security
job because i get to do some decent work...
like being a chemistry teacher...
it's a great narrative canvas...
i write over what was already talked (over)...
that's how you get to paint by writing...
you're not some Tolstoy's...
no... not some Pavlov's dog trying to wet his appetite
but also sweat... via drooling saliva...
before my shift i had that random conversation
with mother...
she was watching the t.v. adaptation
of Leo Tolstoy's War & Peace and i said to her:
i don't recall having ever read Tolstoy...
he's not like Dostoyevsky, is he?

so we compared: Tolstoy is the writer
of the macro-cosmos... of events that shake nations
and the individuals: "individuals" are sort of:
chess-pieces...
it's the sort of literature of the salon...
Dostoyevsky is a psychologist...
a world war II might be taking place...
but... but... some Heinrich *******is getting dealt
a terrible hand of both luck and fortune...
like i said to my ailing mother:
she half-jokes aligned with giving birth to me
being her crucifixion...
i joke back: maybe if i wasn't born
i would have both my hinds...
i was once called a: hunchback angel by a guy
advocating the advent of the DUB-STEP musical
genre... way before DUB-STEP became bust
and only associated with SKRILLEX
"drop the button buster, beat, blah blah"...

reimagine drunk conversations in a pub...
in a PLOOB... Scouse? i don't know... maybe somehow
someday, maybe...
    ich sehen rot.. ergo: ich aufladung,
i.e. go! i.e. gehen!

people are so lonely, not having read anything of
philosophy...
if i were to learn anything from the sage-father
that my father isn't....
read philosophy when i'm old and clinging ton sanity
with a chance: oops...
*******... death end clue...
what?                        before you're dead...
please leave your nappies alongside the rest
of the remains of you...

i was having a: drinking session with
newly married couple... Irish traveller...
i downed his, my, his, my: whichever pint
long before the closing hours were done...
Frankie... Francesca...
**** me... Matthew Conrad "m.d."

it's called: tunneling!
me what?! a **** was asking me to g back
to her flat to sniff some *******...
smoke some ****....
i'd love to...
        but i need to make my mother
a coffee come 9am...

i never realised people could become so lonely
and when drinking enough become so blatantly obvious
about it...
it took me one night trip to find a fox's corpse
by the side of the street
to subsequently find a skip and some black bin bags
wrap the road-****... walk with it for almost five miles,
stopping off at the house to weigh myself
then me and the carcass...
amassed to about 7kg... a big, healthy *******
of a fox...
when i was picking him up from the pavement
at 5am a man and a woman were eying me up
like: no... not a ******... a shaman...
they should i might be pretending to chop the fox up...
i just didn't want such a beautiful creature,
beautifully dead, serene, lying on the side of the street...
the only burial i gave him was throwing him
into some thorny bushes by a stream...
another time i was playing i-see-you-but-you-don't-see-me
with another fox... sat on a curve and just eyed it...
until a woman passed the fox and me sitting across
the street drinking a beer... WE'RE MEDITATING!
did the fox flinch? nope... the woman walked about a metre
from the fox... ****** didn't flinch...
i was working up to the TOTEM...
it took one afternoon of the door being opened to
my kitchen and me cooking up two curries...
hey presto: BRODY...
that ****** came for leftovers from meals for over a month...
until, he stopped coming...
i'm guessing he was hit by a car...
but... i'm guessing my care for one fox being
somewhat properly buried and another fox coming
to inquire about: what smells so good
is the reason why i have captured such great photographs
of a fox in my garden...

- hmm... date? or after work coworker drinks?
i know that i scribbled in my little notepad
when she went on her Nth visit to the toilet...
my guess is that males have weaker bladder
of the sexes... a SPRINKLE OF SOME MARIJUANA..
i'm waiting for VOLTAGE...
i'm about to hallucinate in ink... burgundy mixing itself
with Bishop Purple...
those first 30 minutes after a sunset...
cycling down the A12 with heavy traffic... reaching the Green
Belt between Romford and Mark's Gate...
breathing through the nose...
Spring is teasing... Spring is teasing with her
oncoming stealth of scents...
the earth is yet again starting to breathe...
first comes the botanical kingdom,
soon after will come the kingdom of the insects...
wait! i have not heard of an angel or a demon
associated with botany! in charge of, say... roses...
too good of a mark for a Saint George with...
or was that St. Stephen...

write like an imitation of ice-skating...
pretend to fall... gain momentum...
think out a thinking of shadow, curb,
night and walking Ninja hey-presto! feline...
think a loudness: think the loudness...
the ***** of a 4 x 4 pedestrian cross
section of Tokyo...
leave your cycling attire on the bed, stinking of you...
watch a female cuddle and curl up to your Lycra
long-shanks for the specific reason: been cycling...
acid on a bicycle... the 1st and the only ever tRIP...

i always wanted to travel to India...
and walk back to England...
i always wanted to do that...
second: if? aha... QUESTION "question" questing onion
quest of an onion... ANSWER:
i swear, i: as it were... as it is... i: as it were:
i of i, i off i, i vs. no-i...
not i vs. not-i: schizoid broo... Brrrrr... BWOOM(B)
***** a-plenty with witches...

fly fly away my little star...
fly fly away my little st'ah... st'ah...
Stachurski! da da da... ditch Z-Detusche:
na minute, na chwile! na jedno
i drugie dingo dingo!

Lord of the Mushroom!
and mushy peas... and... dhal...
Lord... Bel
              פִּטרִיָה               (Be-EL)

i'm shocked that the gnostics didn't...
to be honest? what was missing in Hinduism?!
what was missing in Hinduism?!
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA
AH HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!

oh yeah... that's a Satanic laugh that is...
a laugh that makes the existence of soul viable...
it is a glowing...
when one internalizes laughter with eureka
and mixes it up with stage-fright and a "hate"
for the sound of one's voice...
but then from time to time...
one is caught singing while doing chores and finds
one's voice appealing to be given song
rather than words to speak or write...

but not even in Egyptian mythology...
it was coming! it was ******* coming home!
the botanical godhead...
in the pantheon was missing!
was missing in the pantheon!
the

פ
P / PH / F (greek sidelined, referee: TH)eta
ט
T
ר
R(esh)
י
    YOD: first son of Yiddish: YON... by a boy named
YON...                  a

      e                                               i
                            Λ
                            Y                                  (LY)HH
    
                  o                       y

ה
hello friend: vowel catcher and laughter generator ...
ה not Π... that one connecting letter: ח

hmm: older than capitalism and communism,
but to simply the problem up:
capitalism is the lion
and everything English...
capitalism is the bear
and everything Russian...
vice versa for communism...
the English bred their mythos on the superiority
of a lion and... a unicorn... more a Celtic, Scottish... thing...
the Russians on... a union with the bear...
the bear and the two headed eagle: ergo:
another unicorn...
like the Srbs... serbs... two headed eagle?
the Soviet downfall with the two-headed eagles
of Chernobyl?
       ******: moi... i seriously sometimes forget
my own ethnicity i'm so caught up in English
metropolitan... cosmopolitanism...
      the Global City-Free-States... CITIES AS STATES...
very imaginable...

not City-States... rather... on the global connectivity
project?
what Dinosaur what meteor?
what super-volcano what Yellowstone
what man?
  it's a bit like Pompeii...
give the worlds greatest party and then the volcano
explodes...
better than a meteor: a volcano killed us...
Yella Big Yella...
            the greatest, supposedly no OB-EASE:
into obese...
          ah ah... tongue out... speak! the prolonged A
of neither ah not āh...
                      -
                        2

                                      ****... that's chemistry's notations...
                     2
                  -                                 (huh?!)

the macron over the A... for AAH...
i.e. not an:                                                      ah!

                        á!
                                               A
    
                                   H                        H

           á                                   'ey?!
                                ha ha: key?    hey?!

the burial ground of...
    hmm...
               BEE-EL...
      
PHTRYH: the godhead is that of a mushroom...
people partied to the music of: infected mushroom...
a god is making himself known...
like the false god of H. P. Lovecraft
horror-imago: Nyarlathotep...

precisely! what vowels!
PH or P or F?
   two H's emerged... a good sign that it's PH
for aesthetic reasons...
scribbling this down...
i feel like i'm actually left-handed...
a diametrical opposition to the stasis-enforced
gravity of nothing falling: everything sitting...

ph(aeiou)t(aioue)r(aouei)y(aueio)h(aeiou)

if insects can be allowed the dimension of godly
creatures: thousand blessings on the head!
the lion's head the eagle...
emblem of the Volk of the Volcano:
a Mushroom-Head...
                    
toilet... ah... welcome relief... the water is running...
running...
hmm... from a top... otherwise flowing...
if...
lake: mirror imitation, Lake Narcissus and
his brother Sea Samael: Death...
     like absinthe before adding water like it
was milk...
the water is in tide: with tide: use the FORCE...
tide...
   like water found the force... the force:
with force water found gravity via tide...
earth found gravity with the quake
fire found gravity with the sparkle of the stars...
fire... charcoal peered at night at the already
lighted... as he admired the lightning with fear...
no lightning ever warmed...
comforts of a distant home... fire found gravity
envying the stars... Prometheus who?
and the brothers of Gaia?
Fero...
                fire...
                              AQ... the water brother...
ah... forgot about the younger sister:
AIA...              air...

what a weird ******* date, coworker after shift drinking...
i've never been on a date with a lesbian...
i felt... TESTED... we watched almost the entire match
Chelsea women vs. Tottenham Women Hotbras...
coming close to the end of the shift she asked
if i wanted to go drinking...
sure... why not...

            hmm... it became a date... after she bought the two
rounds i paid for on our previous encounter
when we actually went ice-skating and i became
a local internet sensation for teaching seagulls how to fly:
wearing ice-skates, frozen lake: fly fly!

so we start... the pub is getting busy...
it feels worse than a strip-club...
at least in a strip-club most people are naked
and people get to wear imaginary masks...
in a pub? **** me...
people are dressed up and are made to wear
imaginary clothing! ha ha!
masks?! what masks... a LIE is 10 masks... one lie equals
10 masks... because a lie concerning
the body of soul... is accented with more than
a physical imprint...
LIE MASK AS IF PRETEND SUPPOSE SO
AS IF AS SO CALL IT QUITS
ACTING

it felt like a date... she was getting all nervy...
going to the toilet... checking her phone all the time...
i was patient, smart girl, while i was pretending to
opt out from her OCD... check the phone...
check the fridge-freezer... check your opt out
capacity for a TV license...

how do you go out on a date with a lesbian?
neither you nor her are advocating for woke talking points...
about pronouns or... Furry? listen...
she talks to me about getting FIFA '22...
i finished gaming off at PS1 and reliving the golden days
by re-watching the walkthroughs of
MGS2 (metal gear solid 2)...

because? movies are ****...
i don't want to want these women...
i want... a ******* canoe and a ******* paddle!
and a grizzly bear cub to cuddle and a birch tree to cuddle!

MUFFA!
YEROYI... AHMADI-DEM-BASHAI
YAMSH'EH GIBYT!
VAZOL: OCH TIBI IM PEO-OM-KATA
ES O I TOBOM.

no language suddenly praise with the rigidity of
continuation...
i'll be honest... what do i need a woman for?
to get old, get a haircut... buy food...
not watch the sunrise or the sunset...
instead watch the news on t.v. watch the t.v.
not watch the aquarium?
don't own an aquarium?

own a car but don't own a bicycle?!
in London...
it was 2: so nie to know you: snooze:
represented by letter Z or 2...
if 5 is S and 6 is b...

                     the marriage of letters
to numbers... numbers? meaningless...
absolutely... meaningless...
199 KILOGRAMS
200 CENIMETRES
X contra "x"...

        dead-weight marrying
      1 + 1 + 1 = 3
when marrying
o + n + e = one...
              ah! but 3 and one are different!
former? the forever unit...
latter? the splinter, E3...
forever question...

               turn 3 into omega...
when sharpen it up for a SH... hide the H...
wake up the Z... hide the Z
emerge with a v above an
                           S

call it crown....

     - so Francesca asked me to go drinking again:
again a date doesn't feel like a date...
am i supposed to know about the plethora of female
sexuality?
         **** McDonald one day...
   straight out of Orange is the New Black the next?
just for drinks... i thought we would equal out the tab
on who paid for what previously...
went into the pub at around 20:30 came out around
00:15... we watched the females' football league...
her team, Chelsea beat Tottenham at the Leyton Orient
ground: no plague of parakeets...
honestly: hand on my heart and one on my ear
standing naked before four mirrors:
i did not hear about wild parakeets... parakeets
in general since: only since i worked the Craven Cottage
shifts... Bishop's Park was full of them!
there were no wild parakeets in Essex... not that i know of...
i once listed down all the birds
i could see from my garden...
seagulls, kestrels, two hawks battling in the air,
woodland pigeons, urban pigeons,
crows, magpies, sparrows, swallows,
robins, blackbirds, Canadian geese (migrating),
mallard ducks (also migrating), swans (migrating ditto)...
but sure as **** no parakeets!

in that session i bought only 1 round...
she was hungry so she ordered food...
three plates of food...
fried wings with two sauces...
a bowl of cheesy fries with strips of bacon
and a bowl of popcorn chicken which
i first thought was: battered and deep-friend
mozzarella nuggets...
i had three things... showing off my eating skills...
my grandparents never used to eat
the cartilage and the best meaty bits
off of the chicken legs, drumsticks or wings...
i went a step further...
a bit like eating a whole apple... including the core...
aa magic trick of eating:
you begin with holding something in your hand...
then it disappears completely...
holding an apple, whole, and eating it whole...
subsequently is a bit like playing with a top hat
imagining red eyed albino bunnies, from Albania
(albino >< Albania).. clash of borrowed letters
but two completely different meanings...

etymologically: Albania: land of the Albinos:
Albanios? more like a he, noun...
a mountain, a he...
                 a lake: he and she... neither, always:
if reading English like a native
of the tongue...
                        Albatross from Albanions...
poetry borrowed from a dictionary, rigid function:
hiding the rhyme
exposing the etymological "rhyme".
Alba-
                                      white...
a dyslexic meets a Daltonist in Dover..
the dyslexic arguments are along the lines of:
Dawid Bovie... dead... pish-poor shapes to be be
before huddling out the grave
for a Madame Tussauds pose and a quick nap
and not asking for
a Doppelganger like Sisyphus without a stone
but the equivalent worth of the stone
in pebbles...

    i would be a fair god...
if i'm willing to give birth to an angel of the Botanical realm
since there's the Lord of the Flies... Beelzebub..
and there's the Lord of the Mosquitos: Jesus "sacred heart"
reincarnated by Jungian inspection
a literal: MOTHER... ******...
Chirst...
                      it's not enough to play the pig's blanket
and pretend a crucifix is a ***** and in dire need of being
used by a ******* according
to Marquis de Sade...
Phateroyah...
                     obviously the vowels will change...
with vowels like water and consonants like earth...
punctuation is like air... punctuation and a physical
representation of writing: nothing ethereal,
nothing metaphysical... writing with expression
on our faces... writing as something less and less
a claustrophobic or its implosion: to an effect...
writing less about an extension of thinking...
in the Cartesian dynamic:
res extensa: via writing, alternatively:
if one were to be prone to smoking enough marijuana:
auditory hallucinations... writing is
by definition the same variant of the EXTENDED classification
as a schizophrenic's auditory hallucination...
the former just forces it upon others...
the latter is unwarranted access to a corrupted ego...
a hurt ego...
an ego without the capacity to imagine,
to dream, to digress...

i showed her how to eat chicken proper...
i ate three wings, two chips avoiding the bacon and cheese,
and about three popcorn nuggets...
i forgot myself: once all the cartilage on the bones
was cleaned off... i went in to bite into the bones...
the ends are sort of soft and marshmallow-almost...
not in texture... in my reimagining:

reimagining - hmm... Kant...
         remembering...
a prior... remembering...
   a posteriori: reimagining...

if a crime happens we don't have an a priori remembering
tactic... ingesting the realm of a prior
with memory... remembering...
that's what we do...
what came before 5? S? or !!!!! five exclamation marks?
or? >>>>> five more-than signs?
did 5 come before five?
did words spawn numbers
or did numbers spawn words?
clearly they're not identical...
and they operate two different realms...

we have words for numbers...
as we have numbers that are also letters...
but numbers are not words...
even 3.14159....
                   is not a word, but a letter: Pi i.e. P...
it's not a word... it's at best a letter...
i'm thinking the gods are words and the angels
are letters...
  while the anti-gods are constants
and their "angels" are numbers...

constants?
                         3.14159..... is not a constant... it's a freak of O...
a circle... and a whole mythology of the Wheel...
O... ****** VENUS...
  phallus... the egg... Oh and 0ero         Z: zed extended
via snooze: zzzzz... harps and snoring... terrible music...
constants? in numbers as if creating a word?

6.02214076 × 10²³ mol⁻¹

                     Avogardo's: the equilibrium dynamic if
i remember correctly...
today i learned about...
     Jakob Fugger... back in his day worth around
400 billions "x"... who financed the construction
of St. Peter's in Rome...
i now wish i visited Rome instead of Venice...
          i would have had more fun in Rome...
  
(algebra is the reply, letters imitating
numbers... should the inclusion of MOL be a problem)...

i bit off the chicken legs marrow...
she was in the toilet about fifty ******* times, each time,
ordering more drinks...
we came in at 20:30 and left at around 00:30
at one point she was in the toilet and
i just remembered something...
they have this "thing" in Japan... where you pay a stranger
to pretend to be your friend...
i'm not pretending... but conversation is dry...
i try to ask questions: i ask questions,
i hear replies... but i don't hear reciprocating
questions... Mr. Familiar has or had no problems?
people confide in me and yet
whenever i try to confide in them
i'm told to shut up...
oh... i get it... i do...
before i knew it i was this heaven-sent ideal...
i was the strength and they were the weakness...
i see it now more than even...
she can tell me about her abusive past...
her drunk father who kissed her mother with knuckles
instead of lips... how she's a lesbian but also
a butch ******* **** with hands almost as large as mine
and how her daughter was put into care
because "X"...
but my shizophrenia is a "schizophrenia" is...
i wasted my 20s on anti-psychotic drugs and psychiatrists
that i bundled up and threw into a hornets' nest of
******* *****, threesomes (just the one, but one is
the threshold)... prostitutes: you talk more with your
eyes and your hands and your other endings
and your nose than you care to ******* lasso a string
of coherent words together...

my problem? what problems?! exactly...
there's nothing wrong with me: i have no regrets...
i don't need to speak to someone with an endearing
sake of self definition... i can just scribble notes down
and leave them for some yet to be born
****** of petty things...
i can do just that... no wonder i can't open up...
talk about... "me"? that's still packaged goods...
i'm waiting for the morbid call of a biography
postmortem...

it's strange going on a date with a lesbian...
it's not a date it's me going for after-work drinks
with a colleague...
it's me and her eyeing up the same behind the counter:
tight ***, fake eyelashes she can pull off...
her unwashed pink-fading dyed fair:
feminist... it's me telling her a little about my past:
i had long hair before,
i couldn't pull off a Jesus...
i would only grow a beard if i cut my hair...
short...
she's still trying to find me on social media...
god: i love keeping a girl in suspense whether or not
i have any social media presence...
best try it out with a lesbian first...
we talk about dating apps:
i have a knowledge of their existence...
but hardly a knowledge that might demand
the pressures of: USAGE...

i end up drinking the night away with a revelation...
i was eyeing these two pairs of love birds for some time...

when i was at the Ol' "John's" taking
a whizz... this Greek version of Freak... o.k. o.k.,
ETHAN ROARK type... balding on the top
of the cranium, allows his hair to grow long...
didn't you know...
Garry Glitter was released... he's already
been harangued by the ******* "police"....

what like Batman did a "forever"?
          
   i get paedophiles doing a second jester runner
with meeting up with underage:
sorry... not boring enough?
it's like pretending to be a mandible,
aerobic classed agility with
a prosthetic... that's what ******* a teenage girl
might feel like:
i rather run with deer....
or charm a fox into becoming my totem...
should i be reincarnated what might i come back as?
i'm not banking: i'm saying: fuchs!
fox! LIS!
if i were to freely roam the prance-lands of Essex
as a fox... that's me, done and dusted...

but i wouldn't inhibit a man willing to repent...
after all: if no forgiveness?
the Muslims were right: no crucifixion took place...
did it?
a 78 year old can be given a heave's sake....
life's fruition and that's done...
sorry for the hurt parties... living their:
adamantly purposive lives
with the weight of: Abel not dead...
sorry... the story goes... Cain murders you....
you're still live yet:
you're supposed to be dead...

i'm only making excuses for Gary Glitter...
i wouldn't be for...
Ralph Heimans...
                                 it's music and i can't stop
listening to Rock & Roll parts I & II...

**** me: i ended up the night...
she hated ***** accents.. Liverpool-day-john-ion...
part Eirish: skirmish: scoot!
a Swabian swap... an "oops": Ludwig... or was
that Lufthansa...
this girl, a ***** bridge,,. i'd love to add hired
bride...
                  but instead?

Traveller Irish... i was talking to a bridge...
bride...
you want a drinking race?
ejecting the two pairs...
i snuggled down my pint: his pint...
in 3x glugs... i saw a phantom of an opera...
what?she told me she never used social
media before marrying?
why do i need to Afghanistan to find
datable brides? i squeak and wriggle myself
into the CAMPER VAN culture...
Irish travellers... so? i'll drink with them...
i'd drink with a repentant ******* asking:
was it anything like Nabokov prescribed?!

£30 for 3.5grams of ****...
time excavated? 30+ hours...
£120 + £10 for entry for an hour with a *******...
well... i'd love to prove my masculinity
with having a competing:
hopeless: always alive sort of battery life:
kept up: *******...
but even i think *** is primarily a dosage of
insect desires...
mammals like us sometimes
tend to play games to escape the pressures
of ***...
requested: what? getting my beard trimmed
or getting my underwear "lost" or my ******* "trimmed"?

i get it... ******* are people who are not afforded
a chance to compensate...
relieve themselves through the shared
antics of (shared) grief...
just like Jesus Christ once crucified can't be
resurrected! n'est ce pas?!
what if... the ******* can be left alone...
in his freedom and a freedom-sickly-cage...
what if?!

a bit like saying:
but i can't be anti-racist...
i can be a non-racist...
but i can't be: anti-racist...
                    there are humans either side of
the "argument"...

one mighty argument of goo after another...
inverting the whole dynamic of dates...
seen your face for over a year...
now i heard your voice: your soul...
you heard me laughter...

a naked table, a naked chair...
a dressed table, a dressed chair,
a lightbulb with a cloche...
rigid Slavic KLOSZ...
walls: brick or slab...
naked... wallpaper slapped on...

   how did that "date" end up?
i was speaking to Irish Travellers...
the ****** types... caravan dwellers...
with the girl... snogging before
ordering a pint....
how she was Lady Margaret all pristine
didn't drink or use social media
before getting married...
i was chasing pints...
race: 3x glugs down...
  i out-chased him...

the pub was closing, we wanted the people out...
strange so, talking to this Irish Traveller Lassie,
most settled people with mortgages or
council houses, flats... avoid speaking to Irish Travellers...
but the revelations she uttered...
i might as well been talking to a Muslim girl...
by her account...
she didn't start drinking before she was married...
she didn't use social media,
she said that in the travellers' community having
a social media account is a bit like *******...
hell: i think it's much worse...
fair play to the capitalistic system...
but social media is what it is...
         it has marketed our private-lives...
not written as a complaint...
                        i allowed for that to happen...
willingly...
now i can't simply walk away from the gallery...
i still don't know what to do with it
instead of making if a reference point akin to:
the red and the amber and the green
of traffic lights...
the "system" wasn't going to capitalise on the market
of my dating preferences and ****** encounters...
sure... i don't mind a public "dear diary"...
a place to store links to music videos when i forget
to add them to my browser's bookmarks:
because i've probably added the same song twice...

but Kant has been bothering me...
ever since i wrote:
a priori remembering
    and a posteriori reimagining...
why do i think that it's impossible
to a priori reimagine?
              
i need to go back to the rubric
and try to burn it into my head like the alphabet
was burned into my mind once...
one of the following four
is impossible:
    with the simplest expression for each:

(analytical) a priori                             (analytical) a posteriori
1 + 1 =2                                                   not every man is a ******
wrong!                                                   some men are
that's synthetic a priori!
+, /, £

(synthetic) a priori                               (synthetic) a posteriori
1 + 1 = 2                                                   £: money makes monkey
i synthesised these                                either that shaman
numbers...                                              mushroom on an ant's
analysed what prior?                            buttocks or:
the increasing number                          the botanical "anomaly"
the added, subtracted,                        money is: asexuality it's
multiplied,                                              what if Adam gave Eve
by god sq. rooted?!                              her first un-earned banknote...
1, 2, 3, 4...                                              spend freely! not having
                                                                earned it!
                                                               what if Eden and the apple
                                                                are wholly outdated
                                                                metaphors?

hmm...

the first £10 she got? was that money earned or money freely
given? was she handed down an allowance or
her first earnings? the trickling down idea follows suit:
if her father gave her money for free... for completing "chores"...
if he gave her an allowance: worse still...
without chores...
why wouldn't expect the sane fir passable:
future partners: daddy day-care "hoes"...
                           my daddy this, my daddy that...
HUBBY no. 2... give give...
i drink less... i smoke some marijuana
and i remember that i read some philosophy...
no new grounding since Wittgenstein
gobbled down Spinoza in a ferocious
of homosexual madness of jealousy...
misunderstood by at least 4 parties...

*** and women unplugged...
some of us boys are playing a game of Alchemy...
solid silver, liquid silver...
i guess plastics are gassy silver...
***... can i please assume there might be
two mouths breathing?

I ate your breath before you ate the apple...
i ate your breath while you gauged
my eyes and saw milk in your *******...

in the labyrinth of: i sigh...
i'm to your bidding bound, sire...
i ate your breath long before you might have ate...
that fruit of autumn, fallen, rotten...
fermenting.... this rotten fruit...
no, not plucked from three... ripe and sweet...
rather picked up attired in autumn's clothes:
auburn, over-ripe cinnaamon-brown,
orange and yellow...

you gave me a drunkard's bear or ilk!
male deer! you gave me a drunkard's apple!
i might be stumbling:
but i'm still chiming with the blues!
what Mosad Mandarin faction of
the intelligence community?

   ching-fang-*******-wall'ah-CHANG
wrote a similar (liar) armistice peace-war:
if we can't use this military equipment...
let's, make... ******* movies!
woo yee HA!

Baron astronaut, ergonomic... a house ought
to have two doors: H... a house
ought to have rooms focused upon the dynamic
of Y...
oh **** your woo! woo! glue my ***
of the Tetragrammaton:
i heard it once before:
the Arabs got their pearly and Kentucky bound
Timothy....
while the Hebrews got the paranoia...
windmills in Chelsea, London,
not Kansas... New Lit Bits of Jersey....

i was left aghast... um... i laughed...
i couldn't say the words ****... pairing it up with her voice...

well... according to sources all knowledge a piori
is ANYLYTICAL... but what was i "analysing"
when i was conjuring the letter R or the number Z?
i borrowed the circle from the sun
and the house from the cave?
i must have done so...
i probably conjured the game of rugby from
the sea's tides and yoyo from an egg of a dodo...
and the goal posts from the letter H...
ripples in the water ZigZag and M and W...
cosine as the refined W
and sine as the refined M...

   a parabola confined in a W...
D in do and devil...
God with Dog and: all?! ah!

    i'm not dumb: i just want to extract more from Kant
than people, ever had, toyed with a jihad of had the Hadiths
in a puddle of paper: equaling the refined weight:
of the organic worth of bark? timber: temples of stone
have turned the gods all cold:
about 5 kilograms for a stash of a week's worth of newspapers...

please please don't let me understand myself:
please oh please don't let me understand myself:
when i'm sober and especially when i'm slightly drink...
drunk... drunk... and smoking a bit of ****...
and...

grass is green: after having established that
not everything is grass
and not everything that's grass is green
wheat? grows like grass...
but it's not green...
and it grows taller than grass
and cows and horses don't eat it...

i could watch a thousand movie and listen to a million
songs... i could even manage to love a woman
and her tell me in the cravat adorning mammal skin
caravans... but i'd still go to bed with Kant...


   it's not that difficult but i need to ask myself to burn
this rubric into my mind...
under each the easiest expression: an abstract...
i just can't word it differently:
a priori remembering...
true...
a posteriori reimagining...
also true:
after the fact of seeing a tree...
can i see a tree prior?
ergo? i can't be capable of a priori reimagining...
first i have to see a tree...
but upon seeing the tree i can't reimagine it...
therefore i can only reimagine what comes after seeing it...
how do i practice a priori remembering?
on the most practical level...
i remember 1 + 1 = 2...
history and memory...
sure... but what of history as epistemology?
as a child i'm not really taught that 1 + 1 = 2...
knowledge and 1 + 1 = 11... not "somehow" just by
"coincidence" of the missed meaning of the cipher +,

epistemology and etymology are the only
two branches that should be given access to the study
of history...

reimagining a tree is impossible in that it's a realm
of geometric abstractions that borrow from
geometric orthodoxy and render them useful:
a tree is a home, i can, reimagine a tree...
if i reimagine myself as a bird or a monkey
perched in a tree... reimagining the roof...
via the sky... but that's hardly likely,
mountain and cave dwelling: home...
a prior reimagining is in its own right something...
but reimagining resulted in the dimension
of a posteriori...
i reimagine a tree and make it: a talking tree...
i apply pareidolia...
or like with clouds... those favourites...
why would i reimagine clouds a priori?
i can... but then that would imply reimagining
cauliflowers... or rather: clouds remind me of
cauliflowers: but that's not reimagining either
clouds or cauliflowers: it's remembering what each
looks like and why, subjectively i remember:
that i think they're alike...

hmm... proof: no pudding....
clearest blue...
          or solid green... the Jade from China...
XINY X= CH
we can apply the letter X in our tongue...
that's what marijuana morphs:
the perception of time... 10 minutes already
feel like an hour....
xolera... cholera H! hhhh...
                 xorwat - croat...
                   xemia - chemistry....
chmiel: xmiel:
                              toad breath!
the stuff i sniff up before going to bed!
you ******* DYSLEXIC...

choroba: xoroba...
sickness...

  DYSLEHIC...
                   i'm asking for upgrades...
i hope my upgrades are not too: demanding...
i'm asking... i'm asking...
i'm getting **** all...
well then... best not become a priest
and conjure up what i might need...
i may need this that and the other...
Hebrew...
i'll need the vowel hiding prerogative
to be minded... i'll need Kant..
punctuation marks and numbers....
most certainly letters...
plus akin to comma....

                                 if still alive: i'll lso require death...

chwila: xwila: a fleeting moment...
lapsed timing...
           c H-A
arecz: samo-H-ah...
                  nie na xixota.... śpiew
raptem: tak! ha! ha! aha!

daj znać gdy ty i ja,
tak nagle żyją... i nie... o tak!
i mihght have a Frenchman's heart
to want: Romance after news of
a hereafter..
the moon is blue
the sun is bronze...
the air is milky in the morning...
the water is traffic and there's no
traffic... i'd like death before the explaining mantra:
what's worth a life: squid parody on... ******* skates?!

the love of the gods is doubly insulating...
first they try to demolish you: one ******* fatal claim after another...
the they employ women... they too... *******.. fail...
what are you rounding up against, you?!
sails without winds and no boats to sail with,
the supposed... great artefacts of claiming
the winds!

i once sat alone in a park... hair growing freely....
i had no addition of a face with the addition of hair...
i had no beard, not stubble...
the wind was and my long hair was
and there was, no war, no famine...
there was only dancing and twice reading
into a Charles Dickens...

twice: a rereading a text not available
for journalistic imprints of:
that satisficed mantra of derailing:
expectations of the meddling-ground....

oh well: oh nothing...
oh riddle me some more: nothing...
life is cheap: buy it bought!
sell it sold!
       earn it not living (it); earning it!
ergo: "living"... and (existentialism)...

   a king's frown is a beggar's stomach...
money makes money:
onions grow on trees!

giving birth to the son of Mammon
was... not... hard?
seriously?!
                          thank god i'm twisted in my own
sort of superstitious way...
when there's talk of a birth of an angel...
my ****** demands become joke...
i forget something, and within the confines
of something: almost: everything...

save180:

p'oh tay t'oh
but not
toe-may-toe
that's not
t'oh may t'oh
but...
t'oh m'ah t'oh

         if only it was a p'oh t'ah toe t'oh.

Pencils
  And papers
    And fancy erasers

Rubberbands
  And soda cans
    And ratty old pairs of Vans

This and that
  Or 'maybe' something
    Equaling all sorts of nothing

And then I met Winona Ryder...

Once upon a time,
There was a beautiful maiden.
Without a doubt,
She glowed with magnificent power.
Power equaling beauty, that is.

This maiden, however,
Had a flaw.
She knew she was lovely.
She needn't be told so.
Yet, as much as her power radiated,
her flaw beamed brighter.

She was an  envious soul.
Jealousy  ruined her.
If she was the most beautiful in the land, why must she be vengeful?
She felt insecure compared to all of the other lovely maidens,
even though it was written in stone that her looks out shone theirs.

But it didn't matter,
All that mattered was that she was beautiful....and no one was to ever know about her little 'Beast'...barely being contained in the maiden's tiny body...ready at anytime to be released, and wreck havoc...

A map to treasure
An "X" perched sullen and unreachable,
Unchangeable
Immutable
Inedible
Intangible
In caves, dark
Scrawling crawling up my sclera
To blind
To bind
With direction more lethal
With words less lustrous:
Like diamonds
equaling crushed ice.
All this, a trick in the eye.

dear god
i was thinking about it the other day
the dying the sickness the hunger
the one person getting hurt equaling a million prayers
yet the boys and girls being thrown in the basement bruised and battered get nothing

i've been praying for sixteen going on seventeen years
and what do i get
little
but the years before fourteen meant little
every year after meant a lot
my heart and soul went into hoping war would end and children would thrive
and she would fight for me

but alas
none of this came true

children starve and are beaten
women are *****
men are murdered
unthinkable acts of violence must go unseen because we worry about the small things

so verily verily i give unto you, this time, my final prayer
an echo a dream of space and the universe
of peace and love of literature and poetry
of songs sung loudly proof proof i need proof
i want her to love me
not anyone else because that will not be true
and even though i say this over and over again
that all i want is some peace of mind and some attraction to last throughout eternity
i figure, knowing you (for the most part)
nothing will come through and I'll be left here to fight in the Nothing

keep a man with two billion dollars safe and sound, though
you're good at that

Which is worse:
The beast of Jealousy,
Or the beast of Regret?
Both equate a torture so painful it carves scars into your bones.
Guilt, eats you up with an acid so sharp, you're diminishing to nothing.
Envy, cuts you down with a fury equaling your own.

I hold love and yet
I repel love
I hold pain and yet
I am numb to pain
I can stand time
And yet...
I cannot seem to stand
Time...
Time is but a commodity
And yet I still feel at loss
Pushing forward against the axis of time
Pain equaling the progression of time
So that my pain never decreases and suffers
At a gradient of forced positivity
Or is it really forced?
To live in a state of both pain and positivity?
Is it really forced?
To fear death and yet also infinity
Is it really forced?
When you can see all that which surrounds you
As if blessings hide and yet are plain to sight

But to live through that all brings about confusion
You continue to move forward without falter and yet
You find yourself in seclusion
Not wanting to be found and yet
Seeking warmth til delusion
Finding comfort in the painful cold
And yet begging for the warmth of a human.

Time is but a commodity,
And yet man cannot compare,
They fall weak to its clutches,
And lose to despair.
Take a hint and do not try to live in seclusion
Because one can only take so much pain.

I am a collector of hurt souls and sour people
Taking them through themselves
Answering confused looks
Nudging toward harsh truths
Laying out my ***** laundry

Everyone has something
Venerability equaling authenticity
In meeting people who are worth meeting
Showing yourself
hurt to heal,
a trade of sorts
Making deals
But you would not bargen
In the mist of all these people
I fell…
Fell
In
Love
In love with
Making others feel understood
Standing alone, I stood with everyone
They all felt they knew me
Truth is they don’t understand
But you do and we meet each other where I am
You walk me through myself and you through you
Not standing in a sea alone
But standing next to you

Her favorite color was blue
Fluorescent
Transparent
I saw right through
Her favorite color was blue
And she was patient
As the moon
Awaiting the sun
For its rein to be done
Stars were her eyes
They would shine
Light up my lies
I couldn't hide
Her favorite color was blue
Though she wore the colors of pride
Neon like the signs
She drew attention
She took my mind
Held conversation
Touched hearts
Never was complacent
Her favorite color was blue
A color of the nation
Red were her lips
Full of excitement
Plush
Anticipating more than lust
White bright stars
Looking straight at me
Searching for secrets
I had no place to keep
And so we loved
And so we loved
And so we loved
Transparent
We loved right through
Skin to skin
Bone to bone
Just wouldn't do
She caressed the spirit
Her favorite color was blue
Like the veins
She kissed my wrist
Told me we were the same
An equation
That leaves two equaling one
Her favorite color was blue
Never thought I'd be saddend by you
Lying cold frigid
Her favorite color was blue
As her lips
Weightless fingertips
Dimmed eyes
They use to shine
Neon like the signs
She gave me her heart
Took mines
And so we loved
Transparent
We loved until
She was through
Into the blue

I used to long for
metal doors
that melted
forming
pool like portals
to other worlds.

Places where monsters
roamed distorted landscapes,
where skies rained
drops of purple
forming portal puddles
that would take me
to places even farther
from my messed up family.

I dreamed of
adventures tempered by pain
cause I felt there must be
a balance to pay in my fantasies.

Scars for freedom,
bruises equaling
the level of love I deserved,
the level that would earn my
warrior princess’s affection.

Through proof of
unfair punishment
while wielding healing hands
I would help
other victims like myself.
Earning a redemption
that was never necessary.

How strange that even in
my fairytale dreams
I treated myself as unfairly
as the daytime beast
that left red marks on me.

But now that I have found peace
I no longer dream of
a troubled love like that.
I no longer feel I need to earn back
that dignity and tranquility
that was so brutally
stolen from this mother’s son.

milo and quantum physics
but yet there is no equation
for your emotional unavailability
y equaling the x factor of vulnerability
i’ve always hated the duality of
math
all the silent rules to remember
i just want to be loved the way that
i love
without so many computations
how do i know if silence + comfort equals
pleasure or complacency?
a limit on the questions i can ask in a day
i just want to know everything
do you like the way i **** on your *******?
am i ever going to meet your family?
are you going to love me forever?
2 standard deviations of what you mean
when you say what you do
am i enough for you and i just don’t
know it yet?
basic math skills at a deficit
am i unable to put 2 and 2 together
are there limits to us
or do they not exist?

I hate when this glow starts to show because it means that it's real
and other people are noticing
how I'm starting to feel.
Soul exposed.
Heart opening wide,
giving you the opportunity to take this journey inside.

Could I really change my life for you?
Be a wife to you?
Be the person that you come home at night to?
I want more to life.
Could you give me that?
Could you be my future?
The one I run to without looking back?
Are you it for me?
Fit for me?
My destiny?
I will give you nothing less than me.
All of me.

If I'm willing
and you're fitting,
can we do this?
I want to be held under your wing
while we encounter this world,
ruthless.
Having no mercy on those that doubt this.
Baby, I think I'm about this.
I'm about this commitment
along with your passion.
Put our dreams into motion
& our lives in action.
It could happen...

Are you it for me?
My destiny?
Is this us?
Could it really be?
You.
And me.
Plus eternity
equaling to forever and a day.
Me. You. Us.
Together.
A package deal
vowing to forever heal my broken past
and your selfish appeal.

I'm here to tell you that I want parts.
To see our love grow into an art.
Create beauty in the form of life.
A piece of you and I to forever unite.
Imagine that... US creating LIFE.

Im feeling this could be reality.
Began as independent beings
into one single solid ******
from both of our hearts beating.
Stemmed from a thought to a theory...
Wait, Did you just have me write a love story?

divergence divergence
meet me at ten
i could kiss your monotone lips, your lighted eyes
in your quick glances a grander feeling
floating like a feather in spite of you
effortless
by your command, your suggestion, your guidance
working on up through towards never equaling infinity
resistance creates a larger *****
but resist we try as we make room for the never-coming
i know you see right through (but not in)
and it's a **** good thing because the message isn't clear
computing, comparing, contrasting still
deliberate derivation, patient integration
a mistake i would make again
to feel the security of then
and the ever-outstanding promise of the rendezvous

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Not everyone is made to measure
the infinite, for those who do. Are
generally viewed upon as a paradox.
Mastering freedom, equaling to their
mystical duties, higher than humanity.
Human wealth parallels human desire,
I saw Mozart surpass everything we
know, reaching immortality, passing
human fame. Now I want do it to.

the pain inside my chest has put a wrench in my stomach as i think about it  

saying good bye to everyone  i  am gonna miss all my friends and that One person  that i will always care for no matter what

My heart aches at the thought of leaving her and my best friends  but i will be back and trust me

This is not my last time i ever see you guys i will be back and i see you and everyone will miss me to and  as i see that   beauty last time   i hope one day  something more happens because i will wait for you no matter what so good bye  but when you see me again i will be right there for you as always even a thousand miles away i will be here so saying good bye hurts us but like a double edged sword theres a plus  equaling me returning

The thoughts of his arms kindly caressing your skin, as his lips play hop scotch all over your body. I see his nose welcoming the fragrance of your skin, and his hands lightly touching you like the oceans touch the sands.

I see your smile meeting his, almost mischievously. Your hearts both racing, it feels so wrong but why does it feel so right. As his lips slowly make their way down to your hips that supposedly don’t lie, you welcome him with a deep gasp....

He knows what he’s doing because it’s not the first time, but it sure feels like it. You run your hands all over his head, as he ...

Groans and moans that echo into the dim lit room, echoed by the walls, that have ears but no mouth. He continues to send you into a deep trance.

Even still, it feels so wrong but how do you stop it. She’s so far in, he’s so deep in and the moment is so in the moment that in that moment, she remembered that today I work at a different time and I knock off early and on cue, I walk through the door.

I walk through the door to see the love of my life, loving another life that isn’t mine... he looks up in shock.... in shock that she should’ve known better about my schedule, and not knowing better about loving me.

It’s not his first time in her room, between her legs or even in her.... space...

Her eyes look like two moons, wide as day with deeds dark as night. Explanations fade with the love she proclaimed and there I stand.

You see, I’m rather shocked that I didn’t know better. 1+1 hadn’t been equaling 2 lately. Instead of being rational, I thought my maths teacher had failed me, questioning the equation that’s as certain as the air I’m breathing...... that 1 + 1 equals 2..... 2 many times has she lied to me. 2 many times has she defiled this love... 2 many times I had given her a chance and 2 many times have I given twice the love, and not once had it equated to meaning a **** thing, I feel worthless... I’m a big OH, no, a big Zero with so much love but not enough time to find the right one to give it to.

I’m a victim to 2 much love....

I am terminal I just don’t know it yet.
In twenty years I will be diagnosed with inoperable bone cancer.
It won’t be my fault,
Nothing I could have done would have prevented my fate,
But it will **** me all the same.
Six months after my diagnosis I will take my last, labored, breath.
Doctors will talk to me with serious, professional faces about quality of life,
And having a plan.
I will make a living will,
Discussing with my family the way to deal most gracefully with the most ungraceful of acts.
When I die my wife and children will be by my side.
We will have said a thousand good-byes,
In a thousand different ways,
Acknowledging the finality of every act as they pass,
Until the last good-bye,
A kiss on my cheek,
As I drift away,
My battle fought, and lost.

I am terminal I just don’t know it yet.
In ten years I will fall victim to screeching tires and twisted metal.
It won’t be my fault,
Nothing I could have done would have prevented my fate,
But it will **** me all the same.
Six minutes after the initial impact I will take my last, labored, breath.
Doctors will talk to my family with serious, professional faces about blunt force trauma, and force equaling mass times acceleration.
I did not have a plan,
I did not make a will,
Tomorrow, tomorrow being my constant refrain.
I will not get to tell anyone good-bye,
No one will get to tell me how much they loved me,
I will never appreciate the last time I do anything,
Taking the ability to engage in each act for granted.
I get no last kiss.
My battle is fought, and lost.

I am terminal…I just don’t know it yet.

Cold, lifeless, steel...
A barrel, a trigger...
An ounce of lead...
A hammer pounds and thunder booms
Another death in another classroom

And why?

You say it’s not the gun
and yes to some degree
there is truth to that
but it’s also true that
to some degree it played it’s part

it’s not the whole of the problem
but its there in the equation
written out for all to see
in the blood of the innocence lost
multiplied by the tears
of the mothers and fathers
and brothers and sisters and friends

that must now live sitting at the dinner table
minus one less face and its smile and its laugh
and its eyes full of endless wonder
by dividing its future from its past
equaling the end of its life far too soon

And why?

Because...

Cold...
Lifeless...
Steel...
Has more cash exchanging hands
To protect its right
To protect its promotion
To protect its distribution
To protect its ability to ****
Easily and rapidly

COLD...
LIFELESS...
STEEL...
Has more value to politicians
Than the warm blood
and bones and flesh
Of our children
Of their schools
Of their education
Of their safety

COLD...
LIFELESS...
STEEL...
Has millions and millions being spent
While we ignore our broken schools
and our long over due need
to reform our educational system
and this is no coincidence
an uneducated mass is easier to distract
with age old rhetoric
keep them cookie cut
and packaged and boxed
mental slaves to the **** tube
programmed to love

Cold...
Lifeless...
Steel...

Leaving behind...

cold, lifeless, bodies...

Endless eyes of wonder
That wonder no more
Smiles that no longer laugh
Lungs full of blood instead of life
Hearts with holes no longer whole
no longer beat
Hands that don’t draw
Feet that don’t dance
Nothing more now
Than a body to fill a coffin
And a name for a family to grieve
through a lifetime of sorrow

And yet the
Cold, lifeless, steel...
With its barrel, trigger...
And pieces of lead...
Still hammer out thunder and death
At a moment of anger
And the ease of
a squeeze of a trigger
a trigger so easy to reach
so easy to pull
and just like that
leave behind

cold...
lifeless...
bodies...

Her eyes were as warm as a mid-summers day, filled with love and compassion. Her  neck was as stately as the Empire State in all it's glory, adorned with shields of ten thousand heroes. Her breast were like twin lion cubs playing in the beautiful plains of the En-geti, perfect in every-way... they were fierce. Her body ....a living work of art, like the Nile it flowed... every curve magnified it's magnificence.  Her skin was as golden as fresh honey and as smooth as Shea- butter... flawless she was from head-to-toe.  When she spoke it was soft and sweet, like strings playing in a symphony....soothing to the soul. She said.... '' Listen and tell of me.'' ... and I knew that, she wanted me to tell her story. She said.. '' I was born of man... He carried me inside of himself; until the fullness of time. Then, The Great Physician caused him to fall into a deep sleep... in the cool of the day: as he slept I was taken from his side. When, He did wake... he looked upon me.... and called me -- Wo-Man. For he said, " I was flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone, made for his pleasure, and to the glory of God!" Woman, to be his help meet, to stand beside him, to encompass him about; and he was my covering. Then, she said..." That, I Am spoke.... and His voice was like the sound of many waters.... and He said," Wonderfully and Fearfully were you made.... One plus One equaling One, for you two who came out of one .... are one again!" I Am Woman the glory of man... made in the image of God and for His honor. Then, it was like... I awaken from a deep sleep as weak as water... but somehow renewed: and I did write ... that which she spoke to me in a vision. She... who is .... Woman.