Hypothetically
Would you take ya time to get to know me ,
hold me and teach me the ways of your body,
let me get to be all that you dreamed,
ya
ever waken wish and fantasy's,

Hypothetically
Could I be the one that changed
ya life
made you think twice,
must be nice to be on the outside looking in,
Wishing as hard as
I can to be the one you call ,
****
Can't you see me standing here,
waiting to dry all
your tears,
caress you after dark,
make you say my name ,

Hypothetically
Could you look at me
like that,
make
me smile right back ,
touch you like no other
& take you as more than my lover,
feel the rain falling on us
as we made love
in a heated rush,
Listen to your heart beat
as you fall fast asleep,

Hypothetically
walk with you & talk with you
listen to your heart ache your problems ,
your desires and
things that others can't see,
Could
you let me in even
just for a tiny bit ,
let me see whats it is that's
got me doing flips,
making me want you so badly
and
thinking of you constantly,
missing you when
I can't see you or touch you,
I want to hug you,
rub you and love you,
Couldn't
you
understand me
or the pain
ya causing me
cuz
your not here with me,
What
Would
you do if I told you
I know you more
than you think
I do,
If I could conceal
all that you went
through
so you wouldn't
have to show and prove,
Couldn't
you put up a
front and
act like your
in love with me too,
See
I been where
you been
a time or too
but
if only you knew..,
even thou I
asked

You all this,
What would you say
and do,
If
I meant it all this
in stead
of asking you
Hypothetically
????
(some times you just need to know!)
ALWAYS ME
AYESHAH
Copyright ©
Ayeshah
K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved

Hypothetically, I'll be married to her, the most beautiful woman in the world and she will not only feel the same way, but will want to be married too.

Hypothetically, we'll have two kids. A boy named Asher and a girl named Brooklyn. And she'll love them and love the thought of having kids.

Hypothetically, we're gonna own a house and she'll enjoy that she has a permanent place, not just another apartment.

Hypothetically, she'll want me. And she'll kiss me in the morning and be such a hopeless romantic.

Hypothetically, we'll have each other. Forever and always. And I won't be just a face she passes everyday and smiles at.

Hypothetically, we'll be something more than just a professor and a student.

“i would have made a move on you”
unreachable, and yet you yearn with the soul
of a young boy i’ve seen in a summer field
far too many times.
“but saying, hypothetically…”
the dreams.
your eyes.
casting
spells
on
me.
in the dreams, you cared.
“hypothetically…”
i could never tell you about the dreams.
“hypothetically…”
you are the forest. he is the sea.
i ran through your trees for far too long.
“hypothetically…”
hypothetically, i would still dash through your woods, blissfully, scraping my knees as i fell over. over. over.

Hypothetically speaking

What if I never existed?
Mistakes would not be made.

Hypothetically speaking

What if memories of me would disappear?
Sweeter memories would be made

Hypothetically speaking

What if I never walked this road?
There'd be no need for a disappointment such as I

Hypothetically speaking

What if I was never born?
There'd be no need to live a lie

Hypothetically speaking

When I don't exist
let the stars and moon be the only ones
who remember

I was hypothetically here

Hypothetically if I fell in love,
 I'd love you the world over.
Hypothetically if you were mine,
You'd be my moon and my sun,
With a hold on my heart and my mind.

Hypothetically if I could only do one thing a day,
I'd sit at your side,
Laughing all the way.
Hypothetically if I had to chose,
There would not be a thought of any but you.

Hypothetically if you loved me,
Loved me like I love you.


Hypothetically if you could see me ...
The way that I see you.

Hypothetically, what if I was drunk
or high or ****** beyond repair?

What if I crushed four 2 milligram Xanax
and snorted them up my nose, hypothetically?

What if I packed my hand-blown, inside-out
glass pipe with good green, sticky bud?

And, hypothetically, what if I cut up some fresh powder
and went on a skiing trip that lasted through an eight-ball?

Or what if I dropped LSD in my left eye just to see the lines
combine and streak by?

But what if I was sober and what if I still felt
the same then as I felt was hypothetically *******?

What If I loved you?

What if you were all that mattered and

what if you diminished all the other ****?

My trip is my way into your life and the road that leads me there is filled with many things, but the psychotropic **** and barbiturates and benztropines and burning hash, I will leave at home because you are the only thing I need to get high.

Hypothetically speaking, if i could rewind time
I'd pause in the middle of seperation
And maybe you'd be real this time 

Hypothetically of course, there wouldn't
Have been a break up . about your feelings
I couldnt care ... and in your arms ...
I wouldnt wish you were there

Hypothetically of course, i wouldn't
Crave your embrace . you wouldn't
Have went from meaning to much to me ...
To just a random face

With chemistry at first sight
I was bonded to you by a force .
If i cared about you i'd miss you ...
Hypothetically of course

Hypothetically where my poems come from
as I am an Ophelia to my art of words
this glorious obsession will **** me
yet, what a wonderful way to die

I will play Russian roulette with death
till I have nothing left to write
all through my darkest days
and all through the cold nights

I will play the Angel, the Fool
I will even play it sometimes cool
just remember this
I do this all for you


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance.
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique.
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion.
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression.
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms.
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all.
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural.
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate.
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success.
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race.
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’.
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for.
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism.
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism.
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights.
This is mandate.
The republic for which we stand.
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us.

I’m suicidal.

Guys, I don’t get to say this too often without it being a hypothetical, BUT... I’m suicidal.

Did you hear me in the back? Did they hear me outside? Do you want me to say it louder?

I’M SUICIDAL!

Again? Do you want me to say it again?

I’m just messing with you guys! I know you don’t want me to say it.

I’m not an idiot. I can see you cringe and squirm in your seat. Don’t worry. I got you guys. I won’t say it too much.

I’ll prove it to you.

Let’s calm down for a second here. Take a deep breath. Get comfortable. This is not a public service announcement. This isn’t some after school special. I’m not a preacher nor do I ever plan to preach to you.

But I’m suicidal.

No one likes to hear it… So just give me a chance to prove it.

I’m already proving it in a way. Because as a suicidal person, I learned that I’m not allowed to talk about it. As a suicidal person, it’s like saying a ***** word.

Not a ***** word like **** or *****. ****. ******.

But it makes people feel *****.

When suicide is mentioned, I can see people rub their arms. They scratch the back of their neck. They fidget in their seat like I have covered them in ****.

So I’m sorry. But for a moment. I want you all to feel *****.

To see my truth, I not only need to splash my dirt onto you. I have to pull you deep down into the dirt with me. I need you to feel this way for the rest of the day.
Even when you go home and you hug your children, you hold your loved ones, and you’ve washed yourself in the lies that this could never happen to someone you care about

It’s going to stick behind your ears. You’ll feel it between your fingers. This smell will linger on your clothes. For a long time.

Just for a moment, you’re going to taste ****.

I’m sorry about that.

Do you guys want to hear a joke?

What’s the difference between being hungry and being *****?... it’s where you put the cucumber!

Have you heard that one?

Fine. But how about...

What’s the difference between a ****** and a drug dealer?... A ****** can wash and resell her crack.

I love telling that one. It kills almost every time.

No? Still not laughing?

How about…

Mickey Mouse walks into a divorce lawyers office. The lawyer says “You want to divorce your wife because she’s crazy?” and Mickey says “No! She’s ******* goofy.”

Ha! I knew I’d get some smiles. That one always works.

Does anyone feel better yet? Even just a little cleaner?

Because I don’t.

I carry jokes like a first aid kit and I bandage my wounds in satire.

When you see me drown, let me throw a punch line like a safety net. At least we both don’t have to die

Go home. Learn my jokes. Spray them like air freshener.

Pretend to be ok.

Do you think suicide is serious?

We all know it’s “serious” but no one ever explains why it’s serious.

Do you ever think about that?

Like, really think about it?

I was thirteen years old when I first told someone I was suicide and they treated it like I had brought a gun to school.

Like I had killed my dog with my bare hands.

Like I pulled my shirt up and sliced down my stomach just to show them my insides.

In a way I did. I did show them my insides. That was the first time I showed them all of me. But instead of stitching me up, they put a bandaid on it.

That’s what it is! It’s like I keep bleeding out and they keep putting bandaids on me. And when they run out, they’re like “****… You should feel better by now.”

They’re telling me “Why do I keep opening old wounds?” even though this pain hasn’t even had time to scab yet.

The last time I told my mother I was suicidal, I couldn’t say it in those words. We went on a walk, on new year's day.

It was the first walk we had taken together since I was a child. She was mad at me about something but I figured “It’s New Year. It’s ******* New Years, you know? It’s time to say it. It’s time to deal with it. I’m an adult. I can do it.”

But I didn’t put it in those words. I couldn’t just say “I’m Suicidal.” So I said “I don’t think I’m going to survive for much longer.”

And she rolled her eyes.

As a writer, it’s my job to find words. To make them so eloquent and so beautiful that they stick with you for the rest of your life. My words are supposed to stick.

But I can’t find words for such a pain…

You see, looking back on that, it was my fault.

As a suicidal person, I made the mistake of thinking just because she’s my mother, it mean she can’t smell the ***** word of suicide.

I live in a world of referrals.

If my parents can’t handle it, they will send me to my siblings.

If my siblings can’t handle it, they will send me to my friends,

From friends, I go to doctors, and then other doctors. And then specialists.

From specialists, I go to hospitals.

And then, ironically, I’ll go to special hospitals.

Mental facilities have become as arbitrary as wishing wells.

And I’ve emptied my pockets! I’ve emptied my wallets. But if I empty my heart I think they’re going to find me at the bottom of it.

When I’m sick and tired of all the referrals, they have the audacity to tell me that I have given up.

I gave up.

I stopped fighting.

But I am here to tell you that I am suicidal.

It is a *****, ***** word.

I’m also a lot of other things. I’m so many things.

I’m a daughter. And they take my beauty and they call it their reflections.

I’m a sister. But they took my loyalty, and they called it respect.

I’m a friend. They took my humor and they called it ecentric.

I’m a writer. So I took my pain and I made it into poetry.

But I am suicidal.

I am suicidal.

Don’t take my strength and call me a survivor.

Please.

Don’t let yourselves forget what **** smells like.

If I were white, blond and blue eyed, with
long legs, ample ******* and sharp cheekbones...
Or
If I were icy cold, with hardly any soul, and
simply on a mission to use and discard all men...
Or
If I were a lot less chatty and far more witty, said
all the right things and didn't laugh so loudly...
Or
If I were really good at water-polo, swimming, sailing or
some sport, had mastered an art or multiple languages...
Or
If I were the kind to have casual *** and just move on
like nothing ever happened other than casual ***...
Or
If I were more of a chase, played hard to get, and wasn't
automatically responsive to all and any whimsical...
Or
If I were not Me...

                                                          ­                                                              Wou­ld you feel anything for me?
                                                             ­                                                                 ­                      Would you care?
                                                           ­                                                                 ­                                Would you?

Is there a natural virility to the fertilities of the inductions of space time’s continuums?  Is this a microcosmic phenomenon or more dependent on the depths of pervasion of its macrocosmic relativities.  Perhaps there is a unifying field theory we are not yet aware of which explains how it paradoxically is a little bit of both.  Regardless, given the fact that there probably was no beginning to the universe then quite literally an eternity has already passed.  So why then, given our understanding of the physics of physical interaction, is not all in a state of complete entropy?  
     This afore mentioned fecundity must exist.  Further in it’s quite likely the cause of physical existence as we know it.  I have a theory: This creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.  Ushering in a new 500 billion to trillion year cycle of physical existence as we know it.  Further again, perhaps the implosion’s contraction’s revisions are the cause of the atomic structure of matter we experience during this new physical cycle.
      The thought of such quantum leaps to me for the intensities of physical matters existence and catalytic capabilities.  
     Granted your not going to find these speculations touted as fact in a Wikipedia excerpt.  The answers are in fact unknown.  I’m merely being hypothetically thoughtful with what I’ve learned of possibilities prospectus.   Given these truths allow me to hypothesize further.  
     It seems to me that the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny were created by a conceptually reflective derivative (or perhaps antiderivative on the interpolations of integration) of functional physical mechanics.  That perhaps the creative force behind their inception (similar to the afore mentioned natural inductions of space time’s continuums) was the physical realism of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy.  
     Consider, the planet we’re on is revolving at approximately 60,000 miles per hour relative to the sun, the solar system we inhabit is revolving at approximately 500,000 miles per hour around the center of our galaxy.  Our galaxy is traveling at approximately 1,332,000 miles per hour through space with our local group of galaxies and revolving at approximately 216,000 miles per hour around the center of mass of this group of galaxies.  All this to give you some conception of the kinetic actualities of our planet’s trajectory’s extant as a projectile.  We have an almost incredible amount of potential or kinetic energy that is generated by our physical velocity through space.  Although we don’t seem to be aware of the impending preponderances of this realism as tellurian denizens it is nonetheless fact to our intellectual relativities.  
     Once again perhaps the actuality of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of the actuality of this phenomenon are the impetus behind the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny.  We don’t know for certain how the first amino acids were formed.  Much less how these acids in the primordial soup made the quantum leap to living existence as biological organisms.  Once again I hypothesize it was a conceptually reflective derivative (or antiderivative) of the creationism behind functional physical mechanics.  e.g. the natural inductions of space time continuum and the quantum leaps created by the implosion’s contraction’s revisions of our big bang.
     By now you may be wondering why I have extrapolated these hypothetical scenarios about the physical creationism of our universe and the perceived similarly analogous state of organic and biological origins, so I’ll tell you.  I hoped it might make the dissertation I’m about to make on the fecundities of the corporeally preternatural and perhaps metaphysical inclinations of our sentient race easier to comprehend.
     With the advent of biological organisms the diversity of physical existence has apparently exceeded its physical complexity.  Understanding has evolved.  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integral forms.  Being a firm believer in evolution this phenomenon makes me wonder: Is the impetus behind the genetic anomalies that influence the seemingly positive nature of natural selection’s progression a pervasion from the social contiguities of a species? Perhaps a random occurrence with no discernable precedent?  Or, more likely even, the equivocal nature of the superior essence of the ontological state of the beings involved?
     Though many believe that it is truly a random occurrence I have a tendency to want to believe otherwise.  That just as there is a natural fecundity to the induction of space time’s continuum there is a positively oriented inclination integral to evolutional progression.  A sort of élan vital on the orthogenesis overtures.  Granted it is somewhat dependant on the phenological nature of environment but improvements occur which have little to do with the ability to cope with the weather.    
      So is there such a thing as élan vital as it relates to ethology’s entelechy?  Is there any benefit for humanoid demagoguery in pursuing zoomorphic zoolotry as a social contiguity?  Can we actually make accession to transcendentally existential ascension?
     The obvious answer would appear to be yes, at least in partiality.  Maybe we’re incapable (at present) of assimilating incorporeity ideology’s non-corporeal states and existing as godlike disembodied spirits (who perhaps have not lost their proclivity for corporeally preternatural being) but social relativities are an evolving state.  Truly the better we treat each other the better off all will be.  Now I’m not talking about being a bunch of fawning sycophants or schmaltzy schlep-it-ness schmucks, more like the swanky saunter obsequious diligence could indentured servant sail lend to all.  Not given because it’s mandated but because it’s the essence of social contiguity’s evolution.  Granted the individual must remain sacrosanct.  Our metaphysical prowess is at best hypothetical.  Actual magic is not a tool in our kit-bag though I aspire to such everyday as I attempt to be teleportation real with my telepathy to the demons I appear to be confronted with.  I site clairaudience clairvoyance on the vicinity victuals of vigilante villain, the propinquity habitations of harbinger’s harangued, the proximity parameters of perimeter’s peripherals, why I’ll even throw in the objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iotas of self inductive interstitial extrapolation, and if that doesn't get it I'll talk about the embark embargo extraditions and the extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortions.  The thought of such spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.  Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation on the terrestrial equestrian.  Tellurian terrene!!
     The obvious realisms of all of this are that we are indeed capable of making these quantum leaps armed practical magic.  I say lets fecundity get down to it.  Exserted protuberances of erotica erectile errantry, the vibrant volition of verve.  I’ve had enough of vapid flatulence and insidiously sinister archaic.  Mankind’s inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his demise!!!  We’ll become theosophy’s theophany incarnate, the ecstatic euphorias of corporeally preternatural’s enigma entity on the identity crisis!!!!

He was a frat guy.
he spoke loud at the dinner table across the room and I listened
Someone touched him as a young boy
And daddy's expectations and denial of homosexuality fueled his sons speech
Speaking hypothetically about the colloquial term for jacking off two dudes at once and if that name increased quantitavely what then was the appropriate term for jacking off 100 dudes


His friends laughed

November 29th, 2014

Dear Chris:
  
I miss you dear, I'd like to say. Though it's been six months, thoughts of you are here to stay. My words turn to putty and I wish to form them like clay because there's so much to you I wish to convey. I've been traveling and unraveling the belt loops of life, and striding through gliding on ice skates from strife. I don't know if still I can sing the same tune. Our dreams from the Bay have been vexing me; perplexing me since June. The ring you gave me has my fingers swollen like my head, just like a balloon! And I don't know if it makes me sullen to confess when you asked for my hand, even hypothetically, I was to be your wife complete with white dress. Somewhere along the line that dream has changed. Though I feel that this letter was written selfishly. I really must say.. All I know is that I miss you Chris, I have missed you since May.

-Adeline

December 1st, 2014

Adeline:
   
I was wanton and flagrant when your letter was received. I was bounding and bursting; hardly contained in my seat. Your familiar fragrance beseeching my heart's conceit, and in your confidence said that you're missing me. Until the usual silence declares again it's already half past three. Time to wash away delusions that are causing my hope to reek.
Still..

Certainly there will be another chance to hear from you next week.

A month after radio silence,
seven cities away,
I heard you were with another girl
who was nothing like me.
I was told she resembled a koala
and that she laughed like a three car pile-up.
For a second, I thought maybe your red truck was involved.
I don't know why this caused me to lose sleep.
And still, I lay there
haunted by your phantom touch.
Thoughts of your hands refuse to yield
to the tangible distance of mine.

As such, I compiled a list of things to think of instead of you:

1) In 2014, Toyota recalled 690,000 U.S. Tacoma pick up trucks, model 2005-11 due to a rear suspension part that could break and possibly puncture the gas tank or damage a break line.
I guess that's why your breaks were always so bad.
And now you're with a girl
who sounds like the aftermath of devastation.
But hey, you're the one who has to live with that.
I actually hate all red trucks now by extension.
And now I'm thinking of you again. ****.

2) Red is the 5th most popular truck color.
I see it everywhere.
My heart beats faster in fear that one will be you.
It sinks when it's not.
But that's not important.

3) Kangaroos are part of the marsupial family.
They have begun to overpopulate in Australia.
Some have started to mitigate this by eating them for dinner.
Koalas are also marsupials.
I think they should be added to the menu as well.
It's not as though they ever contributed to anything.
All they do is eat and embrace being a pseudo-bear.
This is what you're dating.

4) In Spain, they use the endearment
"Tu media narunja"
which translates to
"You are the other half of my orange."
I always liked that.
I told you this in the letter I sent you.
But that was one of the letters that was returned.

5) Psychosomaticism is when a person starts to suffer physical illness
due to mental or emotional anguish.
This made me start to wonder,
people say that you can't die from a broken heart.
Maybe we have just convinced ourselves
that it was other factors.
However, we all know that the body cannot survive without a heart, and so if one were to give his or her heart to another,
and the carrier hypothetically took it to a medieval stretching device
and ripped it apart,
it would only lead to the conclusion
that broken hearts do cause death.
Maybe that's not the best thing to think about right now.

6) Buddhism.
The more I read about it, the cooler it seems.

7) Koalas can survive on a diet of eucalyptus leaves.
Eucalyptus leaves are poisonous to most animals.
That's just not normal.
If koalas went extinct within the next week,
I don't think I would mind. I'm starting to hate them more and more.


8) We went to the zoo when we first started dating.
I told you then how I didn't like koalas.
They're viscous troglodytes.
There's a picture of us from that day
placed in a collage I made for you.
It was still hanging at your parents place last I was there.
But that was back in November.
You probably took it down.

9) This list of distractions has failed at doing what it was supposed to do.

No matter how intent I am at being productive enough
to distract myself from your absence,
everything that didn't remind me of you
now reminds me of you.
I'm trying so hard to move on with my life,
but I can't stop thinking about
how much I hate
that you moved on faster than me.
That you don't miss me the way I miss you.
I'm still dealing with the loss of everything we were
and you already replaced me with a ******* koala.
I became everything I always wanted to be for you
and you became a stranger.
I hate that this list of distractions
just further validated how ingrained you were
in my whole world.
But ****...
Never mind.

I thought I had this sorted out
I thought knew what to do about
This whole me and you thing
But I was wrong
So, so very, very wrong
Because just a couple words from you
Has me hoping all over again
Even though I know it's an if-then
Tricky type of situation
If she never knows
Then we can still be friends
If she ever leaves
Then we can be more then friends
Like we used to be, hypothetically
If it all works out right
Then you will be mine.

believe me I don't care
but if I do
I just do because
I want to know
how miserable you've been
since I left
and since you
let me leave

believe me I don't care
but if I do
I just do because
I want to know
how things work out between
You and
Your life
when I'm not around

I think things got better...
but I could be wrong
because if
I am right
it's gonna **** me


believe me I don't care
but If I do
I just do because
it's better than
smoking a pack
a day

my eyes
hurt
either way

Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights
This is mandate
The republic for which we stand
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us

even the dreamers
need to be called on their bluff;
we talk about endeavors
together
across the states,
and taking a weekend
to go some place
where we could tell a different life
at the parties,
and share the same last name;
I would leave the bedroom door open,
and you wouldn't need to knock
for an invitation to fill my bed
where we could finally leave
our chests most bare,
as we should.

but still, we speak of it
as more of an "if"
rather than a "when,"
and smoke on our ignorance
until we can play like
the "when" is "now".
and silly me,
I get so caught up,
only to be dashed when I see
none of it is happening
as it should.

you see the door ajar,
but you don't cross the threshold,
and it's been for so long,
that I certainly am no longer sure
which of us is the one
standing in the hall,
waiting to be beckoned
to listen to the blood
pumping through the other's chest.

Is there a natural virility to the fertilities of the inductions of space time’s continuums?  Is this a microcosmic phenomenon or more dependent on the depths of pervasion of its macrocosmic relativities.  Perhaps there is a unifying field theory we are not yet aware of which explains how it paradoxically is a little bit of both.  Regardless, given the fact that there probably was no beginning to the universe then quite literally an eternity has already passed.  So why then, given our understanding of the physics of physical interaction, is not all in a state of complete entropy?  
     This afore mentioned fecundity must exist.  Further in it’s quite likely the cause of physical existence as we know it.  I have a theory: This creationism occurs at such an imperceptible rate that positive eons of quadrillions of ages must pass in order for the cosmos to replenish its stockpile of physical matter (possibly matter without atomic structure as we know it) so that a new cycle of infinite big bangs in infinite space can occur.  Ushering in a new 500 billion to trillion year cycle of physical existence as we know it.  Further again, perhaps the implosion’s contraction’s revisions are the cause of the atomic structure of matter we experience during this new physical cycle.
      The thought of such quantum leaps to me for the intensities of physical matters existence and catalytic capabilities.  
     Granted your not going to find these speculations touted as fact in a Wikipedia excerpt.  The answers are in fact unknown.  I’m merely being hypothetically thoughtful with what I’ve learned of possibilities prospectus.   Given these truths allow me to hypothesize further.  
     It seems to me that the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny were created by a conceptually reflective derivative (or perhaps antiderivative on the interpolations of integration) of functional physical mechanics.  That perhaps the creative force behind their inception (similar to the afore mentioned natural inductions of space time’s continuums) was the physical realism of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of kinetic supremacy.  
     Consider, the planet we’re on is revolving at approximately 60,000 miles per hour relative to the sun, the solar system we inhabit is revolving at approximately 500,000 miles per hour around the center of our galaxy.  Our galaxy is traveling at approximately 1,332,000 miles per hour through space with our local group of galaxies and revolving at approximately 216,000 miles per hour around the center of mass of this group of galaxies.  All this to give you some conception of the kinetic actualities of our planet’s trajectory’s extant as a projectile.  We have an almost incredible amount of potential or kinetic energy that is generated by our physical velocity through space.  Although we don’t seem to be aware of the impending preponderances of this realism as tellurian denizens it is nonetheless fact to our intellectual relativities.  
     Once again perhaps the actuality of and or the residual harmonic vibrations of the actuality of this phenomenon are the impetus behind the evolution of the organic morphologies of biological ontogeny.  We don’t know for certain how the first amino acids were formed.  Much less how these acids in the primordial soup made the quantum leap to living existence as biological organisms.  Once again I hypothesize it was a conceptually reflective derivative (or antiderivative) of the creationism behind functional physical mechanics.  e.g. the natural inductions of space time's continuum and the quantum leaps created by the implosion’s contraction’s revisions of our big bang.
     By now you may be wondering why I have extrapolated these hypothetical scenarios about the physical creationism of our universe and the perceived similarly analogous state of organic and biological origins, so I’ll tell you.  I hoped it might make the dissertation I’m about to make on the fecundities of the corporeally preternatural and perhaps metaphysical inclinations of our sentient race easier to comprehend.
     With the advent of biological organisms the diversity of physical existence has apparently exceeded its physical complexity.  Understanding has evolved.  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integral forms.  Being a firm believer in evolution this phenomenon makes me wonder: Is the impetus behind the genetic anomalies that influence the seemingly positive nature of natural selection’s progression a pervasion from the social contiguities of a species? Perhaps a random occurrence with no discernable precedent?  Or, more likely even, the equivocal nature of the superior essence of the ontological state of the beings involved?
     Though many believe that it is truly a random occurrence I have a tendency to want to believe otherwise.  That just as there is a natural fecundity to the induction of space time’s continuum there is a positively oriented inclination integral to evolutional progression.  A sort of élan vital on the orthogenesis overtures.  Granted it is somewhat dependant on the phenological nature of environment but improvements occur which have little to do with the ability to cope with the weather.    
      So is there such a thing as élan vital as it relates to ethology’s entelechy?  Is there any benefit for humanoid demagoguery in pursuing zoomorphic zoolatry as a social contiguity?  Can we actually make accession to transcendentally existential ascension?
     The obvious answer would appear to be yes, at least in partiality.  Maybe we’re incapable (at present) of assimilating incorporeity ideology’s non-corporeal states and existing as godlike disembodied spirits (who perhaps have not lost their proclivity for corporeally preternatural being) but social relativities are an evolving state.  Truly the better we treat each other the better off all will be.  Now I’m not talking about being a bunch of fawning sycophants or schmaltzy schlep-it-ness schmucks, more like the swanky saunter obsequious diligence could indentured servant sail lend to all.  Not given because it’s mandated but because it’s the essence of social contiguity’s evolution.  Granted the individual must remain sacrosanct.  Our metaphysical prowess is at best hypothetical.  Actual magic is not a tool in our kit-bag though I aspire to such everyday as I attempt to be teleportation real with my telepathy to the demons I appear to be confronted with.  I site clairaudience clairvoyance on the vicinity victuals of vigilante villain, the propinquity habitations of harbinger’s harangued, the proximity parameters of perimeter’s peripherals, why I’ll even throw in the objectified manifest’s diminutive minutia iotas of self inductive interstitial extrapolation, and if that doesn't get it I'll talk about the embark embargo extraditions and the extraversion embezzling euthanasia extortions.  The thought of such spatiotemporal telemetry tactician.  Protractive analyses of dimensional delineation on the terrestrial equestrian.  Tellurian terrene!!
     The obvious realisms of all of this are that we are indeed capable of making these quantum leaps armed practical magic.  I say lets fecundity get down to it.  Exserted protuberances of erotica erectile errantry, the vibrant volition of verve.  I’ve had enough of vapid flatulence and insidiously sinister archaic.  Mankind’s inability to supersede his developing anachronism may well be the cause of his demise!!!  We’ll become ethology's entelechy, zoomorphic zoolatry's  incarnate, the ecstatic euphorias of corporeally preternatural’s enigma's entity on the identity crisis!!!!

Milked and Pasteurized in infancy
I come of age and choke on the breast I've suckled and wrung.
Explore an open door of opportunity to meet the man who settled the seed.
Disappointed to find only horses, cracks, and neverland keys.
Recognize a social scheme of getting in, getting off, and moving on.
No longer ignorant in bliss,
Apparent to me that daddy left and all that's there is mother mirage.

She's climbing a ladder to complicated bliss,
Pockets full of posies, pills, and thrills.
Mind full of confliction,
self-deprecating inhibition-
hypocritical actions to condone.

Bake a cake.
Make a mermaid sandwich to oblivion
Talk metaphors to your minion.
Fake a place.
Call it home.

Be the hammer in my stone, help me tumble n' bow to your throne.
Sold me sideways lies and theory
Hypothetically, it seems to me that $commission$ was gained
from blackened eyes and skinned up knees
Come to find the wrinkled hand that led me was none but my own.

Guess your conscious forgot it's name
Guess your soul forgot my name.
Careful Grace that saved a wretch like no one.
She's carefully steppin' around your toes,
She's gracefully getting tired of recreating this unreality.

You're a ******' rabbit in a hole.
Lit a match and you've lost all self-control
What breaks you makes you.
What takes you, stakes you out to come and **** you, fake you
Knock on hidden hills door to get more
Swallow the roof that disproves your critics
Keeps you loose and ******* the alphabet dry.
Swallow Cold Alphabet Soup.  I try.

A leitmotif of your average smug ****, is a proverb here and there.
Spouting them off like the receptor has no care.
Their evidential naivety is blatant and almost impossible to bear.
As an audience member you can do nothing but hide your malevolence and stare.
******* in maxims that are apparently laced with benevolence and care.

You know the kind of oxygen waster I’m referring to.
The type of person that watches BBC 4 and likes tofu.
The kind that does the Financial Times So-*******-Do-Ku.

Look I’m just saying that clichés annoy me.
I’m not asking you to love me, give me a reach around or employ me.
In fact you don’t even have to enjoy me as I tell you of things that matter not.

Suture yourself hypothetically to a geographically different mind. That mind being mine, oh that maverick-esque mischievous mind of mine, looking at this from my perspective.
In my transcendental endeavours to rid the clichéd ridden world of the afore mentioned adjective.

In the opposite of anachronistic times, we might successfully, surreptitiously rid the world of moral coated rhymes.
We can do this; all it takes is a few. One of which needs to be you.
Break out from being solipsistic, even the blind, the meek, the autistic, those that besmirch the edge of coffee cups with their lipstick.
Yes, I mean you. Here is what to do…

The next time someone spouts off a cliché, punish them, make them listen to an album by “Hearsay.”
If someone says “An Apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Then simply say, Steve Jobs had thousands and the here’s the definite answer, that consumerism inducer still died of cancer.
If a woman says “When I say jump. You say how high!” Don’t even cogitate to pardon her.
If the grass is always greener on the other side – shoot your ******* gardener.  

Hi I'm just a normal guy and I.. I think that should be enough for an introduction but as it turns out it isn't. It's always, hello my name is xyz ( yeah, I'm from CBSE ) anyhow, my name is xyz, I am xyz, I do this xyz, xyz,xyz, ..abc...bla..bla..blablabla. I mean I want to have an understanding where hello, I'm just a normal guy is enough. But today I want to speak about religion. Yes. Religion. A very interesting.. thing. Sort of. I mean we are all affected by it. Even the atheist, even though I was an atheist but drugs ****** my mind. You know, it's actually funny because I think drugs actually makes you much more religious. Anyone who has ever done drugs can vouch for that, right ? There's nothing more divine in this world than drugs ( of course apart from God). It's the closest you can get to heaven. It's very obvious. If ******* was legal. I'm sorry, I'm a little weak on my drugs. So that's like my go to drug when I'm talking about drugs somehow. Who knew even drugs had marketing ?. Anyhow, if it was legal. Man, things would have been very different. Everyone would have been a devotee, lazy or just dead or dying.. I don't know, you get the picture.. you're smart enough. Now as I was saying, religion affects everyone. I was an atheist... Once. But you know I was thinking something the other day and I got really deep. What if gods were real you know, like hypothetically or realistically ( depends on the side you think you're on ), I was thinking and I realised, I liked the Hindu gods the best. My parents are Hindu. That's very biased I know, but that's the point. Everyone is affected. But I'll sell you my idea. See, I think it would **** to have just one or a couple of gods. I'm sorry, but that's boring. And 'God' is 'God', the best thing ever. PERIOD. ( Kalpnic or otherwise) we should have more of those. More Gods. Tens and thousands. Millions. Billions. Ever counting. Why not ?. The bad joke aside, Hindu gods are cool in my opinion, take 'Shivji' or aka 'Bholenath'. What's not to love ?  Eight pack abs, smoking ****, wearing a rock-n-roll aesthetic. I want my god to be like that. I want him to be cool. I want there to be battles and stories and crazy things. Not just a man wandering and doing good things, I mean I am alright if that's true. I'm all in. I'm just saying my version is cooler. That's all. No offence. I'm not racist ( for religion ? ), I don't care. I think do good, be good and shut up. I swear, that's my moto. But that's not saying that someone else might have a different opinion but that's okay, I would love to hear them if I could. Usually when I pray ( which I admit I don't ) I usually pray to as many gods as I can recall, I guess most of us do. That's just human. God has always been about acceptance more than anything else. Acceptance into the community, build a community and make a living according to that culture, at that place, at that time. It wasn't so forced. It was a way of life. It was different. Now it's something else. Much more commercial and obviously much more dangerous. Religion was made by man for man. God is too huge for our knowledge and I think if you believe in God you will be the first person to agree with me that yes, God is too huge for human knowledge. Let it be. Religion is such a huge economic factor in the world. It's impact on the world governments to an average citizen is phenomenal. It's bound to be corrupted. Follow your God instead. Whatever it may be, don't give it a name. Make it your friend. Make it your strength. Whatever makes you do good is 'God'...... And my 'God' is cooler than yours. And Of course there are Greek gods ( for the hipsters ( yeah!)), but they ****** their siblings, 'Yeahuck'.

the first law of thermodynamics speaks: energy cannot be created nor destroyed
hypothetically, there must be some type of energy created between two people
though this winter has lasted a few years, natural vagabonds are asunder, seeking warmth
for years, we were condemned to search for that other half of us to keep us alive
we want someone who will grab our shoulders at the edge of a steep cliff
we want someone who will appreciate the small things, like drinking tea together
if our atoms bisect and travel alone someday, i want to know i felt that fear of love
that loss is the kindest of suicides, it empties the entrails which scatters through the walls
and the ribcage grows a garden of dead plants and a unlimited drought occurs
god knows when the clock will stop ticking in my chest and my soul goes west

-kra

Let's say
Hypothetically
Someone was
Keeping score
And I had a
Perfect
Unsurpassed
Record.

In that case
There would be
Three hundred and twelve
Pieces of paper
Somewhere
In my house with
Five to thirteen lines of
Text on each of them.

And then suppose
Five and thirteen averaged
Out to somewhere between
Seven and eight.

Then do the math
And tell me what seven or eight
Times three hundred and twelve is
And then think about how
For each line of text on each
Sheet of paper
There is another
Sheet of paper in some
Binder somewhere
Or a pile in the righthand
Corner of my room.

And remember
I'm just one person.

And then think
About the butterfly effect.

Do you know
What happens
In the mail room
When you're not around?

Do you know
Who uses the copier
In the dead of night
Or the morning dawn?

Do you know
Where we go
When we
Die?

Or even
Why we're
All alive
To begin with?

It's sure
As hell

(Or should I say
As unsure as hell
Because no one can
Agree on anything
Even a universal a
Concept as hell)

That we're not living
To make paper
To print out our
Personal whims on.

And then think
About the butterfly effect.

Enigma entity’s ethology entelechy as it relates to clairaudience clairvoyance
Everyone has a personal futurity fatidic or existential metaphysique
What we need is a universally acceptable form of id conclusion
Unfortunately we can’t even agree on the social stigmatisms of ego’s expression
We are relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity that succeed in a hierarchy of functionally integrateable forms
There is no functional deontology, even though its visage would seem to portend cogently fecund probity for all
We are not ethereally sublime, we are corporeally preternatural
Objective is individual; obligation to each other is not a mandate
Though many might find it inherently indispensible to some it impedes success
The depths of debauchery this debacle ensues are almost intrinsically endemic to our race
How am I going to get there becomes more important than ‘what are we fighting for’
So, if there’s no unity of purpose how do we decide who we are fighting for
Will it be good for all or lead to oligarchy and subjugation, the seemingly inescapable byproduct of capitalism, the inherent decadence of socialism
It’s times like this that make me love the constitutional fortitude of Americanism
Theoretically I have an inalienable right, hypothetically this leads to anarchy so I’m not allowed to mess with your rights
This is mandate
The republic for which we stand
Mendacious tales of unity, not merely the obstinate tenacities of I, but also the cogent fecundity in the infamous we-ness of us

literate legends of the past
wordsworth, tennyson, shakespeare, poe
philosophers preaching wisdom
whilst churning words of woe

if born a century onward
their genius contribution
would re-direct thought
and our retribution

clever wit, used correctly
relays a message indirectly
be loud in voice
be strong in deed
plants that blosom
have nurtured seeds

learned men, with miserly souls
different values, different goals
hypothetically speaking, if resurrected
could this system be corrected

past vision blurred, future masked
the valley victim duly asked...
what make thee of my vale?
once vibrant, now lies stale

thine vale like a garment, tightly twined
sceptical of progress, wallow in decline
thy forefathers fester in premature tombs
martyrs to masters, grafted in gloom

thy dwell on the dead, thou should view ahead
though mystery of history must ever be read
tread forth with vision, or stumble ye blind
don't dwell on the dead, or land once mined