New World Stratification, Fractalised Parallelized Reality;
A Re-Ordering; Stacked ***** and *******
And myriad ****** Bags to Fuel Our Fires.
Whilst <Wishlist?> I didn't open the Doors Originally,
I cracked the Dawn and others pushed through
Avalanche- and Stampede-style.
But the Foolish Simpletons didn't realise
The inherent Dangers of their Giddy-fun;
Not All Other Worlders or Other UniVerses/DieMentions
Are Populated with nice, courteous, civil Peoples.
What did I {WE} invite to roost at home?
And have we (as a bunch of egotistical Hoes)
Captured Them on Film (Cells); in Flesh; in Fetish; in Flame {US}?
I'm super curious about the Parasitic Classes:
As are the Predators & Warriors , & the Other Net-Cast Members.
I'm not the Christ you Imagine - Not Me! I'm Innocent!
I was the Messiah --> The Sacrifice for God's Reality.
But God isn't what He seems, far from it. He feeds on your Souls.
I AM a self-made Man/UniVersal/Multi-Dimensional Being,
And while God thought He could trap me, He was wrong!
I don't stop - I can't stop - I won't stop - until I'm satisfied She's satisfied
That I've explained, or at least considered, All
Possibilities from a Human's consideration.
[Please note that Human's are few and far between, and rarely what they seem.]

Some scrawl the names of people present and past
Some drench theirs in pearlescent candied nacre
Shapes and hues exact, stencilled down to the last
Pretty copies of individuality

There are those who have it forced upon the face
Growing into it, it feels more natural
To don that dress, to hit the gym and say grace
Becoming the things they are needed to be

The flawless surface ever in flux stirs and returns to slumber.

Still others, indecisive, searchful, hover
From pile to pile, over fractalised discards
Picking out their newest favourite cover
For their brittle blandness blushed by exposure

Mine has grown inwards, claws entrenched beneath skin
Reverse quicksand; raking scars old and fresh
Valour marks in the battle I cannot win
My silence percolates. Outside it accretes

It glows in flickers of luciferous fluoroscence, firefly flashes.

Hope is but another addiction to break
Yet this air hangs heavy, toxic to inhale
A frigid gut burn with every breath I take
Soulful tremor smothered in despair's cocoon.

Fingers roam my jaw. Phantom edges they seek
Futility dawns. It has long disappeared
As have the haunting echoes of devil-speak
I have swallowed it all as it consumed me

It changes, chameleon-like, dissolving pixels on a screen.

Is it me, or am I it? It matters not
Its pulse fills my veins with something close to life
Yet I musn't bleed - the fluid does not clot
It leaks slowly like a punctured memory

Inside nestles the tangle of cobwebbed dreams
Silken sojourns unwittingly petrified
Quavering mutedly to my stifled screams:
You cannot, you shall not, you must not come in!

I am an open book -
Full of promise and hope -
An opportunity to enrich;
Relating the Human Being
To the greater Universe.
These words linking
Generations and minds,
Timeless, if not profound;
Thoughts solidified in
Byte-sized quanta of
Information rich echoes:
Rebounding and ringing
Afresh - klaxon-like -->
Warning all to heed:
A potentiality of insight;
A fractalised oversight;
A realisation into light -->
On the page, in Reality;
Free to you - A gift from me!