Blot out the whole emerging gesture
To demonstrate leading astray thy pace;
Don't rebound to toil and wrestle,
Be temperate tilt not at any rate!

Outrun ne'er surpass in celebrity quartan,
Submission ties settle better productive gain;
Prepare to ignite flame of fixed canon
Must evade excruciate feeble in vain;

Riches give delight yet defend not,
Slaking thirst aqua less attract rabies;
Pride of sagacity weak riot crazy spot,
Mere contentment if alive relay miseries;

Deny not troth behave alike recuperation
Spurt what ambition turn amative thee;
Man! thou hold energy to alter cultivation
Please the almighty by culminating blemish free;

Only provident would give certain dexterity
With vigour, venture, assume design marvelous;
Where its sacred light confirm privity:
Personality seems observing rare not fabulous.

Resilience.
I wish
I had
that
thing.

[PREMISE: SOCIETY KILLED THE TEENAGER]

>>WHAT WOULD THE TEENAGER DO?
OPTION A: SUCCUMB THEMSELVES TO DEATH AS THE SOCIETY’S PREY
OPTION B: DO NOTHING
OPTION C: SUBVERT AND RETALIATE TO **** THE SOCIETY BACK

They told me that
I would lead a bright
future ahead of me;
that I would soon
be a valiant knight in
shining armour.
I said thanks but
I lied.
Truth is, I
don’t want to let
them know that
I’m not even sure
I would even survive
until the
age of
eighteen.

Car crash and
interstellar collision,
please face
me.
This place is a
deceitful space
of discordances.
If only I used my
short life
to propagate
revivals to
everyone,
what world would
wait ahead of me
when I’m
awake from the
death?

One day I
came home with
wounds from
fighting.
He asked me
how often did I
treat my
wounds.
I said it was nothing
for I am used
to it.
He then objected.
“No. I mean the wounds
in your
heart.”

As much as my
inner voice
reverbed,
telling me to
love him.
I couldn’t
because I’m
not the kind of
person that anyone
would love
and I should
just not love
anyone as well
for I
would just
end up feeling
disheartened.

They caught me.
I was entombed.
I incarcerated myself
inside the
disputes I created
inside my own
head.
They caught me
because I am
not a
slave of
their
societal norms.

I spent days
wondering why and
how could I
still be alive
despite all the
numerous amounts
they attempted
to excruciate
me.

—————
——SYSTEM HAS BEEN DISRUPTED—
——SYSTEM EXPERIENCES MALFUNCTION
——
__
2083208 4988 32973
39743
39493

I am.

d e t h r o n e d.

Wish I was your anything, Highdiver. I am not, right? I can’t go on anymore.

I do love you or maybe I did. Or never did at all.

Wish I could revive at least one soul in my short life.

But I couldn’t. I’m sorry Highdiver.

Almost all of my heroes are dead.

If I die, would you regard me as your hero?

Yours truly, the one who revolts in disruption as your Alice.

—

I’ve come to realize that nothing has ever been inherent. Not because I’m trying to manifest an absurdist or nihilist stance, but because the truth just is.

waiting.
this is the kind of vicious silence that makes my stomach scream.
the hands of the clock claw at its own face,
as if to move on would excruciate, lead to self-destruct
time is forced; the minutes drag, kicking & screaming
and you say nothing.
my eyes burn, staring, pleading your mouth to move,
waiting in agony for your lips to quiver
in hopes that a sweet wind from your breath would pass through and destroy the quiet,
a quiet which is not entirely unlike being deaf,
except i can hear my own worried breaths which beckon you to speak.

Stick to whatever,
She told me.
Get it wrong, right
Or do not.
Flee to your scarier
Shelter,
One that is easy
To spot.
Drink wines
From glasses
Of doubt,
Worship your
Local canons.
Stretch them
Within and without,
Stan the unpardoned
Of lords.

Having it all
Given to you,
Acting completely
Exposed,
Trophies in pain
Excruciate you:
None of them **** you,
Suppose.

Touch me, with the tip of your fingers let,
tidal vibrations gently flow from your veins,
through your limbs straight into me. Throb,
pulsate, overwhelm me with your power, invade

my nerves with the notes you compose, oh
so delightfully. Inundate my tangible self
with your essence as palms, ineluctably reach
for more. Caress the skin, make me shiver, enjoy

the tremors of the chords you play, oh so sublimely.
Move closer, embrace me, cover me in
your sentiments, introduce me to them let’s,
listen to the pounding tune of palpitations

and when, my head starts spinning continue,
don’t pull away, excruciate your instrument,
perform your best, make it hard for me
to breathe but hold me, as I groan and lose

my grip, while knees inexorably weaken.

Take a walk with me
As I weave a tale of mystery
Riddled with latent clues
And sunken treasures,
Enough to tease
But not appease
The pensive mind
Programmed to unravel
Abstruse anomalies from covert lines
And decipher codes in
Every enigmatic sign;
Calibrated to extricate
Materiality from the matrix of mendacity,
Salience from the smorgasbord of subjectivity,
But frustrated by this vacuous tale
Of lyrical poesy,
Woven with wilful intent to obfuscate
And rarify,
Enshrouded with elfish eccentricity to excruciate
And mystify mused minds
As haughty heads and hands
Ring and wring
In bemused bewilderment…

Alas!

You'll find neither hidden clue
Nor sunken treasure
In this tedious tale,
For 'twas penned solely for pleasure
By a poet with too much time on his hands...

I trust you'll understand...

~ P

i could not not, succumb to the taoist meditation
early on life...
it's probably the only maxim i live by...
somehow the basic and hardest to strive
"against": rather with...
              kant gave a "cipher":
the categorical imperative...
               i.e. all is true or nothing is true...
sieve through: the cipher narrative
with a decipher diadem...
             but kant didn't exactly leave a maxim
to live by...
not taoist by any demands...
             i instruct myself to mind tao because...
it's the crux to differentiate...
the philanthropist from from the misanthrope...
the taoist maxim sits...
           thus sentenced, as:
the only way to aid the world...
is for you to forget the world...
and for the world to forget you...
                which is... i find... an elevation of
what heidegger's dasein implies...
common geometry fool's gold of words...
be-ing "contra" be-coming...
                         here i welcome...
a new season: the flu season...
  if this was to happen... every, single, year...
and not as this... one-off...
   the philanthropist "versus" the mistanthrope...
on a canvas of tao...
               meddling in human affairs
and meddling in none of one's own...
    bothersome... but unless...
it's... "sieving" 2 tonnes of soil...
   and laying around 12sqm of wembley turf...
to accomplish a sellers' garden...
  but i still cling to the maxim...
the best way one can aid the world...
is for the world to forget you...
and for you: to forget the world...
                        pockets of dasein
do conjure themselves up... spontaneously...
like mushrooms... in pockets of the days
to pass and the events within... them...
   but kant didn't leave a prime vector to
enforce his categorical imperative choicest of...
phrasings...
look nowhere, else...
the asiatic corp are glad to write...
haikus... a month count: 1...
when exercising the mind... drunk...
feeding the moon their eyesight...
                                 hardly a reason to acquire
a definite meaning of the word: misanthropy...
in the negative...
         i very much like to assure myself...
that i am not... in any way...
infringing on the expression of freedom
of someone else: with that...
i hope i am assured the same: of not being
infringed upon...
of course... with a mutually inclusive...
sharing of disagreement:
that neither of the parties steal or ****
from a third party... etc.
    words are worth **** when it comes
to numbers...
words and colours?
words and mountains?
words and... with so many choices...
no. 100069 = the noun bee...
           no. 100200054 = the noun spoon...
well... what would be...
the first word of a priori man is not
even a word: it's the first...
consonant-vowel duplex...
          which had to denote: mother...
otherwise: m'ah-m'ah...
          who would respond to...
g'ah-g'ah... b'oh-b'oh?
   blue-blue?!
of note... ga-ga... but...
b'oh will probably be conflated with:
bow-bow... even with
the vowel-catcher H goal...
       would... an umlaut like a halo
'elp? bö-bö?
              the "subtle" variation of
arithmetic... i.e. pool: pöl...
                                    und... poll...
                          blah... blah...
                   perhaps if i was /
yes... and were: paid
i'd write with... a little bit more... motivation...
why then... excruciate myself...
over a reality... that... this is all...
but... a hobby? hardly a self-defeating
question: but at least i can
forgo keeping up a falsetto impetus
to burn-out.
         es ist was es ist...
     it is, what it is...
                 no one paid... for writing this...
for reading this...
it should be of no consequence
to anyone... except...
for the party... playing the parody publisher...
who are also not... the "except"
since... i somehow had to pay...
for an internet connection...
so... ****'s off the supposed "third party"
of... meddling.