I held you in the palm of my hand
I held you in the palm of my hand and I closed you in
I closed the palm of my hand
and you were nothing but the dark I had forced upon you
I may have bled from every crevice of my being
but it was too late
I am met by sour words and unforgiven last chances
you were the sun and I showered you in glass
now we are no more

you were on my lips
you were on my lips and I pushed away
I pushed away all thoughts of you
and I was nothing but this mass of
guilt and deathly notions infesting my head
I infected everything I touched
turned your skin green and your eyes red
while my pores were clean
I am walking termination

we were almost okay
we were almost okay and I let you go
I let you leave me like everybody else has
and that blame reeks in my skull
burning through my blood
tearing out my eyes and leaving me as
crippling devastation on legs
I wish I could relieve the pressure
I wish there was somebody here

Chapter 1
A man wearing a black suit and tie stood at the pew of a church. He had an anxious look on his face. Where is she? He thought. It was his wedding day, yet the room was strangely empty. Not a single person had showed up so far. Not even the priest. There were no flowers, no music, nothing. All there was were empty chairs and an occasional cockroach scuttling across the floor. Maybe I got the date wrong...No, I doubt that. We talked about it all night. Just then the large mahogany doors creaked open and he saw her. Her dress…god it was gorgeous. Pure white, not a speck of dirt on it. It flowed around her shoeless feet. She appeared to be walking on air. He was utterly stunned, not able to say a word, not able to think. She was so beautiful…Her eyes, a deep shade of blue stared back at him and they became all he could see. But as he stared, something in them died. The light just left. The glimmer she always had disappeared. They looked more and more like glass eyes on a doll than the ones that belonged to his lover. Dark circles surrounded them as a thin film covered them and took away every bit of life that was left. And then they shut. The next thing he knew, he was standing over her dead body, crying. The soft velvet lining in the coffin turning the tears into little beads that rolled down the creases.
Chapter 2
My eyes opened and I took in my surroundings, wondering where I was until I realized it was just my own room. My pillow was wet with tears and my hands shaky. Then I remembered, she died. But that couldn’t be. It just wasn’t right. I rolled over in my bed too see if she was there. Much to my relief she was, her brown hair resting on the pillow. I reached out to touch it and took in the soft scent of lavender. It felt like silk slipping through my fingers. A soft moan escaped from her throat as she rolled over and faced me.
“Hi,” she whispered in a voice that was scratchy and barely audible but **** at the same time. I just stared back at her deep blue eyes and felt the tears build up behind my eyes. “What’s wrong?” she asked a pitiful look on her face.
“Nothing, just another bad dream.” I replied nonchalantly.
She sat up in the bed, stroking her hair. “You didn’t take your sleeping pill last night did you? You were tossing all night long.”
I just stared at her back. We both knew the answer. I hadn’t. I’d been skimping on my meds recently. I was getting married in a week and needed to give the meds time to completely wear off. I didn’t want the pills taking away my feelings. I wanted the full experience. Besides I thought I was getting better. There were no more voices whispering my name and I no longer talked to my dead sister, who apparently was just a hallucination my mind created to help deal with the pain of losing her. They said that it in no way meant I was insane. They called it a defense mechanism. They said it was my body’s way of protecting me. But I saw their thoughts in their eyes. I saw how frightened they were at my insanity, how they kept their distance from me, avoiding me like I was infected with the plague.
I remembered how healthy, how happy she had been. She’d had her whole life ahead of her but when she was nineteen I had taken her down to the Gulf of Mexico with Kasey, my fiancée. I couldn’t have one without the other. It was through Sarah that I met Kasey and through Kasey that I saved Sarah. I had figured that I would take the two most important people in my life to the beach for spring break but now I regret it.
I just remember Sarah’s smiling face, mocking me and Kasey as we held each other on the shore, our toes tickled by the gentle water.  Without warning a scream escaped her mouth as she was pulled under against her will. She didn’t leave the water until the following morning when her body washed up on shore. A shark had bitten one of her legs clean off. Her face was pale, her eyes open, not seeing through the milky film surrounding them and her lips stained a dark blue color. For so long I had been convinced that she had escaped. I saw her on the streets, in my apartment, in my car everywhere. Sometimes we just waved or said hi and we went on with our days but sometimes I had long drawn out conversations with her. I remember the day I proposed to Kasey that she had been waiting for me outside the apartment and we had talked for hours about how happy I was going to be with her and how I am so lucky to be able to have someone like her. Even seeing her body in that black coffin surrounded by white lilies didn’t bring the truth to me. It just felt like an insane dream when I stood up and recounted our good times during the eulogy and when I held Kasey tight in the cemetery where she now rests. I was absolutely convinced that she had lived. She couldn’t be dead I saw her, I talked to her, I hugged her. But all those psychologists said she was. They all said the hallucination was just how my brain was choosing to deal with it. Instead of becoming clinically depressed, I just chose to deny it.
Other than the hallucinations, I haven’t really dealt with her death. It still doesn’t feel real; even if I don’t see her anymore. Although she’s six feet under next to our parents, I can’t believe it. I’m just waiting for the day it hits me. The day I’ll want to do nothing but look at pictures of her as I’m locked in my room crying. But surely it won’t be soon. I’m marrying Kasey in a week and then everything will be perfect for a while.
Chapter 3
The weeks before our wedding was spent running about the streets of St. Augustine. Kasey boasted to me for days about how gorgeous she would be in her dress and how I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off her. We were having a small wedding, neither of us really had a family left and we didn’t have too many friends being as I could never keep one job for too long, let alone live in one place for a while. I usually ended up working as a waiter somewhere or in a small store. I really relied on Kasey for most of my money though.
Kasey had modeled at one point in her life and still had some money left over from it. I kept telling her to get back into it but she always said no, claiming the people in the business were shallow and ignorant. A little over a year after we’d met, she was getting pretty well known. Her agent was a scumbag who would milk absolutely everything he could from her, even if it meant turning to pornographic modeling. He was going to get as much money as he possibly could from her so he paid, literally paid, a new male model to date her. His name was Jacob Fischer. Apparently the guy was stupid enough to tell Kasey that he hadn’t been paid enough to take her anywhere really expensive. I remember when Kasey showed up at my house drenched in rain, crying. I tried to make her as comfortable as possible in my dinghy apartment. Apparently all she needed was my love. That was the first time that we admitted how much we loved each other. The only other time we admitted it was when I proposed to her. Our wedding day drew nearer and nearer until the night of our rehearsal dinner.
It took place at the Sun Dial, where I worked. We were all wearing our dress suits and the ladies wore dresses that glittered and shone in the dim lighting. We sat and drank champagne as we watched the city of Atlanta revolve around us. You could see the street lights and malls and other buildings. From our view the Golden Dome looked beautiful. I sat down sipping my wine and letting the constant chatter of the place engulf me. I was completely lost in my thoughts as Kasey sat down next to me and everyone began clapping. “Go on,” She whispered, “it’s time for the toast.” I stood up and the volume of the clapping increased.
I cleared my throat. “I can’t tell you all how flattered I am to be able to have Kasey’s hand in marriage. It’s very rare that a guy like me ends up with someone as beautiful as her,” I paused, listening to the dead silence and continued, “No really though, I am honored to be able to have her become part of my family.” I looked at the very last table and saw Sarah sitting there smiling at me. “And I’m sure that Sarah is excited to have her as her sister-in-law. Isn’t that right Sarah?” There was no reply, only stunned faces staring back at me.
Sarah was gone. I could feel all those eyes boring holes in me as my face grew hot. Kasey stood up and took my arm, “Will you excuse us please?” she pulled me of the rotating floor and towards the door of the restaurant. “What is wrong with you?” she was practically yelling. I could see the tears welling up behind her eyes. “She really was there. Sarah was sitting in the back of the room smiling at me.” I tried to tell her the truth. “No. No Parker. You’re the only one who saw her. She’s been dead for over two years now.” She looked me straight in the eyes, begging me to believe her. “You can’t just quit taking your meds like that! Normal people don’t see their dead sisters at the rehearsal dinner and most of them don’t talk to her during the toast!” I couldn’t say anything; I just looked at her. “I love you Parker, I really do. You’re the only person in this world that I feel truly understands me but you’re insane! Nothing will bring her back. I know you don’t understand that she really is gone but you have to move on. It hurts me as much as it does you. I loved her too and if you would just pull your head out of your *** you would see that there are so many other people that did too but we’ve all dealt with it and moved on.” I could tell she was trying really hard to hold back the tears but they just kept rolling down her face, painting it with bleeding mascara.
I reached out and hugged her. “I’m so sorry Kasey. I just don’t know what happened back there…” she pushed me back and stared at me in disbelief.
“You know what? **** it. You’ve completely lost your mind. How do you expect me to be able to marry someone who talks to dead people?!” her chest was heaving with effort. She was yelling at me louder than she ever had before. “Just…Just come find me whenever you find your ******* mind.” She shoved me away from her slipped in the elevator just as its doors closed.
“Kasey! Wait!” I called desperately after her. I stood by the window completely dumbfounded. My breath fogged up the glass that my hand rested on.
Chapter 4
I lay in my bed that night, staring at the water stained ceiling. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Thinking about how I had hurt her, of how she had run away and how I had been too stunned to go and face all those people that had just witnessed me talking to a hallucination. I hadn’t done that in so long…What happened? Why did she blow up like that at me? It’s not like I meant to, I mean just because it’s the first time I’ve done it in a couple months doesn’t give her a right to get so mad does it? I’m not insane…at least I don’t think I am. But maybe she’s right. Maybe I am. Insane and depressed. I thought as I rolled over in my bed and brought my legs up to my chest. My eyes landed where her head would usually be. I felt a wave of extreme hopelessness rush over me as I thought of her. I really did love her. But maybe she just can’t make herself love me. Maybe the insane aren’t meant to be loved. We’re all destined to a life of loneliness and tears. All those who try to help us don’t really care. They all just come and go like birds in the change of seasons. The world never stops changing, never stops moving. Neither do we, but we never go up, we only fall deeper and deeper until we’ve lost it completely. That’s when we start sitting in a rocking chair all day mumbling nonsense to ourselves. By then no one cares anymore; we all just become lost causes. There is no hope anymore. Not for us.
It felt like someone had ripped my heart right out of my chest. That was how bad it felt to know she didn’t want to be with me. I would rather her have died knowing that she loved me than have her living knowing she doesn’t give a ****.  This way she was dead to me, but only me; just like my sister was dead to everyone but me. She told me to come find her when I found my mind, but how do I find it if I’ve never lost it? I just can not believe I’m insane. Surely she would come back to me if I could just talk to her. She had always loved me no matter how crazy I got. What made now different? I had to make it up to her. I would find her in the morning and hold her tight for the rest of the day. We didn’t have to get married if she didn’t want to. If she was just looking for an excuse not to marry me, why didn’t she just tell me that she wasn’t ready yet? That would’ve been easier for me to take than this. Anything would be.
The beast that had my heart in their hands rolled it around, feeling the warmth and stickiness of blood on their hands. They held still for a moment and then squeezed it until it burst, gushing blood between their fingers. I screamed into my pillow and then succumbed to the unavoidable sobs.
Chapter 5
Sleep never came to me that night. I just lay there; thinking about her, imagining her, missing her. She was all I thought about. She was the only thing I thought about as I slipped some clean clothes on and headed out of the apartment that smelled like mildew.
The streets were too crowded for me to take my car and after ten minutes of waiting for a cab, I decided to walk. Besides, I didn’t even really know where I was going yet. I tried to think of where she would go if she felt like she needed to get away. Then it hit me, Oakland Cemetery. She would probably be visiting Sarah’s grave. I flagged down a taxi and went to find her.
Upon stepping inside the cemetery I became aware of the ancient graves. In a way it was a beautiful sight. The headstones jutting out of the ground; it just brought me a feeling of peace. A thousand souls rested here, many centuries old. Most people find it somewhat creepy, but it’s fascinating to me. There’s so much history buried beneath this earth, it just astounded me to think of all these people coming to rest all in one place. I could just imagine all the things these people did, all their accomplishments. I walked up hill towards Sarah’s grave. There it was. The graves were more modern here, no headstones stuck out of the ground, they all lay parallel to the bodies beneath them.  And just as I suspected a human figure was kneeling on the ground. It had to be Kasey, I mean how many people go the cemetery this early on a day when the sun shines bright and a light breeze tussles your hair? No one. No one would want to come here this morning.
I quietly crept towards the figure, whispering Kasey’s name. There was no response from the figure so I drew nearer and nearer.  With every step I took I noticed that something wasn’t right. Their backside was bare, and so far as I could tell, so was their front. They sat there, no movement at all, trapped in one moment of time. From the back, they looked like Kasey, they had the same hair and lying next to her was the dress that she’d worn last night. “Kasey?” I called out, waiting for an answer. Nothing stirred except for a couple of squirrels off in the distance. I reached out and touched her on the shoulder. I drew my hand back immediately as the awful stench of death filled my nostrils. I stood there stunned as the body fell back into the grass with a thud. It was definitely Kasey. She lay there, on top of Sarah’s grave staring up at me. There were long, deep gashes up her wrists. A knife clutched in her right hand, she had died, staining the earth with her blood. Her bloodshot eyes stared up at me with an eerie emptiness. Her face looked pained; you could almost see her last thoughts on it. Life isn’t worth living anymore, I’ve been betrayed one too many times so I’m just going to end it all right now and stop waiting for someone else to do it for me. My mind and body went completely numb. This wasn’t happening, No, I would wake up and it would all just be a dream. She couldn’t have killed herself, no, not her. She had always loved life. Always loved to go somewhere new, to get out there, try everything, and live life to the fullest. So why would she **** herself? It couldn’t possibly be my fault. I had never done anything to hurt her. I never could have. I had loved her way to much. I couldn’t be the re

They say i’m creative as a reversed mime;thinking outta the box
my minds found a way to rehearse time while it stops the clock

tick tock
what time is it?

prison block – on some infinite minute ****.

neurons firing

pew

change of management declared- archetypal hiring–whoo
“Do you specialize in living positively?”
{I can try}
“Will you try to stay away from virus compositories?”
{oh me oh my!}

I live different lives as the same people:
go to the same church with different steeples.

Question the voice from my bed; oh **** am I dead?
tryn to lift my arms, but they filled with lead

where am I going and who have i led, to wander and ponder in the land of the dead

its this chilly necropolipse; filled with empty soul ships.

I can’t get warm here and so I fear

stricken by a paralysis , caught in the mists of myr

influenced by infected cysts, sickness adhere…

better deal quik through love metamorphosis
but I kan't…..—————-says who?
great big king boo!

he haunts me and taunts me into less than mediocrity

but its simplicity, don't deal with me, simply leave and then you’ll be free

of me and my moaning, *******, and pathetic groaning

but I’m simply freeflowing,

I guess I'm like an emo chick, dip in quick , then get out of it

like a quicksand pit you’ll stick quick – I do my job a bit to legit

while you sit and feel …………………………………………

……………………………this is some straight simple ****:

1+1= 2

but in my equation, I'm still left with none, no you'd think , but this ain't fun

“So leave!” I yell
“Get out of here!”

I’m lost and confused like a catholic queer
Am I sincere?

maybe

what morals appear?

when your without another and can't find your brother
simply steer clear quick!————————————————–>away from that skell *****

with his nonsensical lycrical pains

and paradoxical ego feigns

from left to up
side to side
always quik to hop
and hide n hide

non-attached….*******!-^-–<>re-attache these b-r-o-k-e-n__bits& p.i.e.c.e.s

so maybe one day you’ll do better than me

Just don’t listen to way i say and get away from me

EMO thoughts brought to light

need some ***- I think i might

oh wait , is this just a way for me…the pages in the journal get away from me

a psychiatrist in the pages….paid for free.

****, thanks ink, thanks journal, thanks ego and funeral

I just killed my ego , and it was the death of me.

I'll never love like
I used to LOVE him,
But You knew that,
Didn't You,

Cuz love comes in different
shades of purple's pink's& blue's
Chance's are
I'll never care like

I once did,

Again

You knew that too.
Chance's are
I'll never trust completely
Let me guess umm

YUP

you also knew that?
Chance's are

I'll cry again OR I'll smile again,
I'll live like I did before you or him came in to my Life.
I'll try once more to find my soul mate,

But
Chance's are
Nothing will ever be the Same,
Not with out You,

Not with out Us,
Chance's are

we're stuck right here.
With one another,
Is it so bad
Or do you like it this way.
Am

I your everything

your Nubian Queen
Chance's are
I'm nothing You thought I'd be,

I'm a lady yet Crazy,
You see how I do,
But

Chances are
your already Immune.
Chance's are,
Your not ready

Maybe It's me,
Maybe I'm too scared and scary to be,
More than what

He made me,
Yes I am ashamed,
I let him take away my greatness

And steal away my fame
Made me think
I wanted this for myself,
But
Chance's are

Your gonna help-
Me to change

for the better,
Let me lean on you in this weather,
Let me hold you as you hold me,

Sweet talks,
While shedding our grief.
Chance's are

Your gonna keep
your word un-like Him
Sorry there's

no Comparisons
Chance's are,
You'll claim everything,
Even the seed's of another man's

See now that's what I call a MAN.
The one's who really
love and want that

Woman
and

what ever comes with HER.
Chance's are,
You could be fooling me
but

in time I'll know and I'll see.
Chance's are
I might just be using you,
But for what Boo,

Trust in us cuz,
I now got you too.
Chance's are,
I'll RUN from you,
Too Infected& Effect

From what others used to do,
I might blame you too
For the mess they caused me,
Chance's are
I'm doing this

ALREADY?
Chance's are
I'll let you go too soon

and

miss You the most
Cuz

the love you give to me

WAS

unconditional!,
Even your touche's

were

HEAVENLY

From head to toe!
Chance's are,
I'll beg and plead for your heart
Just to get it and tear it all apart.

With every thing in life thou ain't
It worth the risk cuz
Chance's are
I wont do none of

THIS,
I might just love you for you

like you'll do for me,
I might just give into you

in your time of need,
I might just hold you

and

play with your hair
Maybe braid it or what ever

cuz it's there!
I might just let you heal me til I hurt No Mo,
Even claim

YOUR OWN seed's as my OWN!
I might shut the HELL up and let you win A fight,

Maybe just to have make up *** on Winters cold nights!
I might just be everything your looking for huh?
Maybe cuz you know
Chances Are
Abundant...,

To be right there
NO MATTER WHAT
I wouldn't care.
I might carry you to victory,
We might find pleasure in enjoying the little things,

We might make this a lasting thing.
Something to tell OUR grand kids.
You never know and that's the beauty of it
We still try and even thou LOVE hurts,
How do you KNOW

tomorrow will bring rain or sorrow?
Maybe the sun will Rise  AGAIN

And

you'll fall in love with me.
Take a chance on me cuz ,

Chance's ARE....,

(whatever WE make them!)
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved

Omnipotent, audacious in power. A craving I hold, though intangible to my fingers. Able to bellow with ions of energetic magnificence and allow power and eternity to pass through. So strong. I am not.

Immortal, suffering throughout, inner galactic warfare wages on beneath my crackling skin and steams out my pores. Cursed to bleed eternally, withering into a shape made of dust that would but blow away if not that it were nailed to the ground.  Undying, undamaged, eternally ****** to live. I am.

Omniscient, vastly knowing, swimming in the sea of a mind, aware of such actions that could overthrow a universe, but would falter in awareness that it need not act pointlessly. So full of self control. I am not.

Alone, wanting, hoping, reaching out to a father and a creator of whom I wish I could love. Clawing with infected stubs at a ghost. I pass through untouched by the divine and am left hallow. My emptiness providing my only company. Cast out amongst the endless decay of happiness, dark pain fills my hovel. I am.

Omnipresent, existing amongst all things. Spatially filling the gaps of the universe, existing thoroughly and throughout. Seeing and hearing and understanding. Procreating happiness in the minds of the hopeful. Bringing purity into the world with eternal hands, and spreading it throughout the cosmos. So present. I am not.

Banished, outcast to lead a sorrowful existence. Cursed by meaningless actions that could not prevail and see the light of anything. Walking an untraveled path that I alone must aimlessly stumble across. Blistering feet bleed and crack beneath a decimated body.  Everlastingly succumbed to Hell. I am.



A God. A powerful being that could not but shine His holiness on the universe. An entity that could make the multiverse bow before his divinity. Who could spread his arms and cast a deafening roar of purity. His spirit, floating through the minds of his children.  A deity, blessed with the power of creation and given the job of fulfilling such desires. I am not.

I am an outcast. An unwanted empathizer of evil. Master of the demons that crawl beneath your withering and faltering mind, finding sustenance in the sin of a world full of hatred and wrong. Bringing whole worlds to their knees and casting away any angel who dare spread his wings before me. Willing to rip off the feathers and burn them so that I may cook the pain and swallow it. Allowing the pain to seed itself into my system and metabolize into something I call a soul. I am no god.  

I am not God.

I am the Devil.

My mind held tight lock and key but what I found was only what’s safe. Afraid to perish when my minds nails dug deep into the polished oak of the coffin. A coward dies 1000 cycles before the first battle cry of reality. Safe inactivity rots the bones to the marrow of the infected anxiety! So instead my cowardice and selfish ambitions moved to a new vice. I was most dangerous when successful to worldly accolades and dreams. I could hide in the shadows of potential, invisible to the threats of our carnal realities. Only showing face when it was safe and sound. Death brews in a caldron froth with the luke warm stock of fear stirred by the seasoning of our sinful natures. You only live once is the name of the selfish game and I think I just flat lined. You won’t find eternity in the safety of that mirror mirror on the wall….I want to Love deeper than deeper and yet deeper again. I want to pick up the cross and follow Jesus.

Her smile is infectious
Contagious
Addictive
Seductive
Effective
I'm infected with a virus named her
Suffering from love
And the symptom is
Smile million times a day

And with that wound to the heart born of cruel enlightenment -
I am affected, and afflicted, to find that He has finally decided to love another.

Who might She be, so superior to me?
How beautiful, Ethereal, Godly must she appear to Him?
Whom could never suffice to provide,
how lowly then am I?

I surmised as engaged that which was nothing but courteous exchange.
His pity shed for foolish me, anguished for His affections,
I was so simple and narcissistic, to imagine any potential ever living.

With that, I am crushed by the weight of a deserved but savage modesty.
How insignificant to His life, diminutive, unworthy must I be?
The sinister sentiment - that He has chosen not only not me, but She - devours all sureness of self and all of my esteem.

Spiteful as I am, I will deny Him tears.
I will cease gratifying such an immense ego and perchance depart with some pieces of dignity.
It is so hard, despite it so long since His immensity last gratified me.

He will never realize the plague on me He's infected,
Never witness the wounds on me He's inflicted,
Never recognize the hopeful heart He's afflicted.

After all this time, perhaps I've accepted that when I come back to You I meet Defeat.
This time, instead, perhaps I take what's left of myself and leave.
Perhaps, I beg, perhaps...
We'll see.

in disguised fashion,
and contemporary flair -
****-laden euphemism -
rushing thoughtless at
bricked wall.
knowingly, no way
through, though run
on tip-toes to
gain agility of ancestors.
pseudo rain-dance;
      is that cultural
      or is it racism?
no room at the bottom anyhow;
we'll linger here
developing emotional interlingua
as means to better,
to comprehend gaped chasm;
allusions, perhaps
it's a bit more magic
oriented than prior presumed.
            (the ever consumed)
then fretful sitting,
continued curiosities of death;
      (perhaps hyperbolic?)
feet still stink ten years later
while linger understanding
of sepsis; is this life infected?
is this a gangrenous growth
in existence;
was dead at birth,
and rehearsed the gurgles
prone to an actor's drowning
monologue. euphemism?
perhaps only rhyming to
schism metric longings.

you played me gently
your tender spanish guitar
******* at my nylon strings.
rocking my body
i sing our melody
your soul echoes through me
as i become your extended body
you caress my neck
                                stroking
                                           pressing
                                                       holding
my essences with tender love and care
the fiber of my heart string pull
as you rip me open
you pluck hard
as each fiber loosens
ripping the strings apart
i bleed this black blood
tainted with the smog
you infected me
you play with distortion
clashing echos as you squeeze me
smashed my body
And the music stops.
i lay in pieces
finding nothing in peace

All the passion became nothing but insanity siting there in the shower
Staring you down letting you know you cannot scrub it off
Knowing every inch of your body and mind are infected
Feeling so lost and confuse
Yet at the same time feeling nothing
It just stares at you with without saying a word
Staring deep in to your soul with does eyes
Eyes some might call beautiful
However, you know they are more than that  
They are the eyes of everything
The eyes of hope
The eyes of blame
The eyes of the beautiful illusion called love
Siting there under the water that turns darker every passing moment
It just stares at you waiting,
Waiting for the moment when you look away
For the moment you blink
For that one second
So that everything humans know as insane, chaotic, delusional
Even evil, it can all come to you
Just letting know how bad in the head you are
Because after all….
There is no one else…
It is just you and the running water

it was raining outside
i tasted cherry in each kiss
ate you up like candyfloss and
you disappeared just as quick.
tasted lightening as it jolted
from your skin, blinded me
with what i thought was love,
disguised thunderstorms as
butterflies in my stomach;
i was not prepared for this
downpour.
tasted cinnamon as our story
blossomed and you kissed me
under archways, told me it was
romantic and you had never
been here before, never felt
this way before, never connected
with someone's electricity so
spectacularly it created firework
displays you can see from
galaxies away.
tasted your poison disguised
as promises dripping in the
richest honey, tasted the tip of
your fingers as they infected my
skin, left me with a constant
internal itch.
tasted the roots of the trees of
your mind and buried myself
beneath them. i wear my
gravestone as a badge of honour
because i died when you left
but i got to love you once.
i am a ghost circling the same
graveyard looking for archways
to fall asleep in, chasing the scent
of cherry like it is holding a
loaded gun and i am running
towards it with my arms wide
open begging it to **** me again.
i die over and over everyday
because there are reminders of
you everywhere and i am but a
ghost and i hope you think of me,
when your door creaks for no
reason in the middle of the night,
when you feel eyes on you and
your palms begin to sweat and
suddenly your room is deathly cold.
i hope you remember me.

a demon
fast asleep deep inside
waiting for the moon
to give him a sign
he comes out at night
lurking from behind
the door in the basement

once innocent
now lost to the power
of the wolf
a creature who tore
his heart up in pieces
infected it with evil
and changed it
into a monster

when awoken
he is ready to devour life
eat, **** in just one bite
there’s no mercy
he wants ****** and blood
he won’t stop

it’s full moon tonight
watch out
the werewolf is going to hunt
the beast from within
is coming out to feast

tomorrow he’ll go back
where he came from
leaving you with the
dreadful consequence
of his action

all alone
crying in the dark
with no one by your side

Lord my soul has been dismantled, pandering out of my rib cage it's looking for a new breeding ground. My face is neutral but my body is in a panic. The food for my thoughts have been rotten for days and it's hungry again. I'm not a virus, I'm not infected. Over and over it's under my skin. I can't break this underlying addiction. I want to be what you drown and manifest in. Let me be your overdosed addiction. My ****** organs slowly turn when our faces use a language it only understands. I can't control it's ticks.  Let's destroy ourselves and rebel in the madness. Such perfection me and you losing control.  Get a little closer let yourself unfold. My brains faucet is leaking.

Deranged and misplaced in a world of deceit                                                                            Morals fade as hypocrisy defeats your belief                                                                                 Profound thoughts pleading for sanity die at the words of those around me                                                                       Deprived of sleep and affection in an apathetic state of depression                                                                       Drenched in hate and separated from truth I hid in my mind                                                              The darkest place I’ve ever been was my own mind                                                                                         Light abandoned in the background died down and I fell in the shadows
Obscurities in desolate caverns tortured my sanity                                                                             Drained of life my soul found comfort with demons I created in my heart                                                  Alone in nostalgia I created beliefs that made sense to a mad man and accepted them gladly             An immense loathing for happiness and a mind fixated on destroying all things pure                    The light was murdered never to be seen again gone forever and drowning in sin                             Filled with blood blacker than night and a mind too sadistic for the world                                                   My body was armour filled with a demon
Placidly screaming for freedom chaos followed me as night does the day                                                         The mind is gone and the body is a shell weaker than self-control I teased myself with                           I was a plaything for evil sitting in the depths of my own Hell                                                            Constructing complications that have never even seen life my mind was deceived                                           I took pleasure in hate and anarchy and perceived love to be a lie                                                               The outside seemed dejected and the inside was infected with insanity conjured from demons  My soul fled to recess formed by blades of hate
Chains forged in the lake of fire bound me to my own pathetic sub conscious                                           Lost in the dark, searching for intellectual reasoning I quit….                                                                    All was dull… Hate and Evil became boring... Love and compassion was long extinct                                           There was nothing left, my soul remained but as purposeless as the body it inhabited         Incoherent and abandoned, forsaken by none yet all in my judgment                                                       I was below mankind and became prey for the living dead                                                                        My soul altered into physical animosity The pleasures of the world were miserable                                                                                               Light avoided me and persons overlooked me                                                                                                   My body lay, rotting, praying for an escape but death would be an imprisonment of solitude                          The concept of Hell was ravishing and the indication of pain was tempting                                        Blood of my body paints the earth from crawling towards an end.. Would there be an end?  Surely none are as wretched as I… I say cremate the wretched.                                                                                                                   Praying for Hell from the Almighty God who knows all perspectives yet offers a choice
God creates us with a voice to be heard yet he knows the outcome                                                                                      Therefore wouldn’t be crafting souls to be hurt?

i think i always knew that eventually,
i'd write about you.
i dont like to admit that i remember anyone who's gone
or was never here to begin with but
i've dragged five skeletons from my bed so far and
a wound half-clean is a wound infected.
i dont want to admit that your effect on me lasted longer than i'd hoped
despite my stubborn patience,
waiting for the stains to fade on their own.
i like to pretend that if you saw me as i am now
you might
see me the way i pretended you did
and the way i always felt on the verge of swallowing my tongue
would be mutual.
when i think about love i see you laughing, even though i know
that's not what i felt
but it's the closest i've ever been,
and i think that's good enough.
it's been eight months since we've spoken but i still imagine you reading these
alone and quiet,
or maybe in the midst of sound and laughter with my words
as a welcome cage.
but we're strangers now if we weren't already
and even when i saw you every day and
my poems were the only thing anyone
could respect,
i dont think you ever read them. i never asked you to,
it'd be too personal. and besides,
i knew this feeling wouldn't last.
i know this feeling won't last.
i can still see the way you looked at the ground when you smiled.
can you still see the way i tried too hard?
can you still see the way i felt like my bones were ground to dust
with the effort of not drawing your hands on every blank page
of my sketchbook.
this isn't my poem to write, and
yours isn't my name to say, i know.
i don't know if you were perfect or if i just
didn't know you at all.
don't think of me as weak. don't see me as sad.
just see me as a girl who mixed up all her emotions, a girl who
mistook loneliness for love,
and it stuck.
i don't think of you every day anymore,
but when it hits it hurts.
i don't know if i want to run home and rip apart every street to find you
and be honest for the first time
in my sorry life,
or hide in soggy peat until roots grow from my skin.
i know i don't love you but knowledge changes nothing except maybe
adding shame for feeling sick
anyway.
i'd like to see your sketchbook now.
i'd like to see what you draw now, i'd like to know
if you love your art now
the way you didnt when i knew you.
i'd like to know if you're loved where you are,
like you should be,
and if my name is any more
than an unused entry
in a dictionary youve never used.
ive been wearing clothes you'd probably like.
ive been drinking things you'd probably like.
i think i'm becoming more like you
every day
without wanting to, and i don't know if thats something you'd love
or hate.
this is the twentythird condolence letter i've written to you
but never sent,
but now at least its somewhere other than grafted to the roof of my mouth.
i don't know.
the only places i saw you were heat and concrete and dust
and sometimes
rain so heavy it pinned you to the earth, but here
the soil is so rich i feel like i could burst into leaves if i touch it and
like there are death caps beneath my skin,
growing in the damp air, i dont know.
i dont know .
sometimes this place is so pretty it makes me sick.
reminds me of how far-removed i am from anyone who makes me feel
real.
is there another version of me in your mind?
one more similar to the body i left behind,
more similar to the one i pretended to be for you,
do you think of me and panic? do you think of me to feel real?
my fingers have been hooked through your clavicle for the past two hours and i still
can't look your skeleton in the face
without feeling ashamed
for feeling.
you know a language i don't.
tell me the truth in a way i dont understand
so it's not another thing i have to know.
was my act convincing or were you looking at the ground
so the pity didn't show on your face?
was the reason you stopped watching me draw because you were afraid
one day
you'd see yourself on the page?
it hasn't happened yet.
i hope it never does, but sometimes
i can't help picturing you laughing,
looking down like my eyes are too bright
to look directly at.
sometimes i can't help picturing us in the heat back home,
sitting in the grass and
neither of us is crying, but i think
the stains you left on my skin are probably
art enough.
i have polished your bones bright white.
i have stuffed the eye sockets with paper so i can look you in the face.
shame fractures my sternum just from
the line of your jaw,
but the roof of my mouth is clear, and my sketchbook is still someplace where
i havent burned your image.
maybe tonight you won't be in the background of all my dreams. maybe tonight
i'll dream of saying goodbye.

The life of a self harmer is complicated, sometimes orderly and routine.
Or perhaps chaotic and jagged.
The life of a self harmer can be happy, struggled, or crushing.
We are not trying for your attention, we are for ourselves.
We feel inferior when we look at others self harm
Our minds sometimes revolve around this.
Gathering supplies, and sneaking around.
Hiding cuts, burns, bruises, or scars.
So prepare to feel alone, and inferior.
Prepare to lie, and withhold the truth.
Brace yourself for the constant worry that wounds will be infected.
Pack a bag of anti-anxiety pills for all the triggers that will be thrown your way.
Prepare to go back and forth with yourself: "I want it so bad." and "I DON'T WANT IT ANYMORE."
Have fun trying to pick out swim suits, or changing in gym.
Be careful about panic attacks when you cut deep or bleed a lot.
Get ready to jump for joy at razors, and for the triggers of any sharp object.
You'll wonder if you've gone crazy, if you could possibly not be insane.
Once again prepare yourself for the other people who harm themselves, you will see them at school, online, at the stores, you will hear about them everywhere.
You will hear people make fun of it, you will want to yell and scream.
You will wonder why you still do it, and how you could ever think the way you do.
And don't forget how you will feel so much guilt and regret almost every-time.
Don't let it slip your mind that you will always have it with you, and no matter how long you've been away from it.
Because it is with other people.
I almost forgot that you will feel like you can't get away.
And when other people find out, people that love you, it will hurt so bad to see them hurt.
They will be angry, and they won't understand. They care though.
And there will be so much more if you go down this road.
It's so hard to climb back up, but it is possible.
Sometimes I yell at people back on dry land, and ask them how they got there.
It's different for everyone, but please stay dry and off this cliff.

Beneath the tree she stood in anger.
Followed by unquenchable hunger.

Then sat down and wept,
for the unity of the family can't be kept.

Quarrelling and fighting are the heads of the family.
Everyone behave unfairly.

Father is no longer a bread winner.
Yet claimed not to be a sinner.

He said it is due to economic situation.
Claiming to improve when things are in
improve position.

But the impatient mother always complain,
like a partner who was infected with *** pain.

She said he gave money to gold
digger.
Seeing him as a he goat ******.

The children on the other side are stubborn.
In the society,behave like the stopborn.

Sorrow is the girl's closest friend,
for the family is coming to an end.

We're all infected.
With words we cannot say.
With emotions we don't dare to feel.
With pain we don't want to share.

I'm infected.
With thoughts I cannot share.
With a feeling of hate so strong,
I engulf my world in it.

You're not infected
You're pure
Don't let me infect you.
I'll ruin you,
I'll fill you with hate.
So leave,

Before I lose you.

The sound of your voice
is like a drug to my soul
I so long to hear everytime

Our eyes were so connected
Before we knew we're intoxicated
We're already infected

You're absence is so devouring my strength
It had got me conquered
Though I never wanted another

And in my youth if I love you
Will you promise to not leave me
When I'm old and lonely?

If I give you everything
Will you share a smile  each morning?
Will you kiss me each evening we see?

defeat is only an objective.
as I lead I gain prospective
haters hate through being deceptive
the envy spreads like sheets infective
while they creep
playing detective
wolve in sheep
until their accepted
their reasoning is subjective
I just wait until they reach
then disconnected their connective
I'm a beast, I can't be infected
work off pure instinct
raw fear instantly detected
human nature,
to be expected
my only actions
moving forward is corrective
i exceed all expectations
with standing ovations,
use to bring power to foreign nations
outworking occupations
make so much sense
i get paid vacations
my buildings, block foundations
I empowered nations for generations

I've always been told
That you should never let go
Of a person
Who can see the sadness
Behind your smile
And hear your screams
When you are silent

Three years it has been
Since I was introduced
To a person
Who rapidly became
My other half,
My panda child,
My best friend.
Up until then,
I was forever surrounded
By small talk
And friends without meaning

Through all the
*******
And
Heartbreaks,
She had been there
Along with
All the petty
Events inbetween
And
I know
In my coffee
And
Cacti
Scented soul
That she will
Continue to do so
For a very,
Very,
Long time.

And one day,
She is going to arrive home
To a place and a person
She loves
And then she will understand
That dying
Isn't necessary
In order to
Go to heaven.
And
If a boy ever
Borrows her heart
And returns it infected
I will personally
Destroy
What's left
Of his sad
Little
Life.
Because
Knowing her,
She will give him everything
And he **** well
Better do the same.

Brooke Roman,
You are beautiful
And I hope you enjoy this poem
That doesn't really make much sense
But
I thought it was necessary
Because
You mean the world to me
And
I would not be here
If you had not come
And saved me
And
You can truly say
You appreciate beauty
Because
You've continously stopped
To pick up the pieces
Of my insecurities
That self-identify
To a beer bottle
Smashed onto a rock
Probably by my father

You are perfect
And
I love you
More than I love coffee
And pizza
And that's saying something.

Bright red hickey
branding your neck
I can’t help but stare

Fighting back the tears
I almost ******* hate you

I want to flip the table
scream
but I sit in silence

The sight of it guts me
uppercut to chest
with the sharpest knife

Each word
spilling out
your mouth
disgusting
like maggots
one by one
cuts me deeper

The thought of her
infected lips
kissing you
makes me want to *****

Im not even supposed to care
you make it look so easy

Just let me hate you
because I know I won’t

Before I start the magic off, can I turn the tragic off?
That's like telling a verb to turn the action off.
I've sworn to secrecy but now I'm kinda bored,
I will expose the truths and exchange my views for knives and swords,
I've tried these ****** more times than a robber tries a door,
I guess they make these sirens for,
alerting others part of task force,
to stop this *******,
from obtaining a bachelors and crashing cars through his neighbors back porch,
when I get a misters just say bye to the Rav 4,
Get a mack truck, show it to a mountain like a crack *****,
and if a sore ever opened up I'd never cover,
I'd let it fester get infected because I love to suffer.
A sadomasochists I sleep on nails for comfort,
I go to hell for summer just to see if ****** made me supper,
you should know I am my fathers sun - watch the horizon,
I could be setting or be rising any time of the day,
It all depends on perspective, but you can make your mind up.
On speed, vibing to me, I'm going to take my time bruhh.
A man that's twice my age shouldn't have this in his mind,
regardless of whats he's seen,
been exposed to or he's dreamed,
I'm a pessimist prime, with speciality in design,
I can create your worse nightmare and inflict suicide,
now you decide you if you really want to listen more,
I don't recommend it... *****.

Epistemologically I am the source,
for hatred, love, peace and wars,
whatever's done is done unto me,
and nothing more,
so severed four tail bones of a geisha,
left no tip for a waiter,
except go back to college,
and bachelor in communications,
and then commune with Satan,
two vacations, write with a plume that's placed in,
the blood of Judas with juice from his noose on your apron,
hold fast to the statement of ******, and fornication,
and when you run out of patience he will show up with a conveyance,
your soul for some placement on #1 radio stations,
so of course you sign, the dotted line, promoting your skills debasements,
those hours spent in the basement,
you coward how can you face him with powers prescribed from Jason,
who killed your father for payment.

Osama your occupation, terrorizing the minds,
of children to young to think of themselves, help keep them blind,
in the dark, as you preach false thoughts to top the charts,
bet if you stabbed you in the chest, you wouldn't feel a heart.

so. so rare. such as you who seek some thing everyone knows
so you may share it with those infected with denial.

---

I'll be the fool who risks belief and go on with the story flowing from my belly
before
my very augmented eyes

Wisdom is justified of her children,
said a nubian wizard
named John Joyce.
No relation to James.

Same general era, I met Adam Funmaker. He showed me
an article in Rolling Stone that mentioned me
June 7, 1973, idea of me, not me,
actually,

that was me. the guy with ears that weren't garbage cans,
which had been the liturgical reply to
words deemed too filthy to say or hear,

To this day I don't care for the taste.

This story fiber began with Adam Funmaker being real, and my feeling many folk would never allow a man with such a name to have been,

much less to have been, my friend. who made my silver wedding ring.

A real man, father of many sons and daughters, still
with us
to this day,
This telling
dedicated in my lodge, my strong tower, my kiva,

To Adam Funmaker, I fan this cloud, be magnified magi.
From my desert you blessed with more than water.

A humbler man I've never met. A scrimshaw artist of great renown among collectors of such, for his technique.
It seemed magic, the photo-realism
he could attain to,
pins and hand and ink and string and light, his only tools,

the light was modified to meet the needs of Adam's ageing eyes
He was sixty-two when I thought with him last,

and sixty-two was older then than now,
he used to ask me questions I had not asked myself.

I only knew him for the space
of a tick
with point of pin pricking
ivory,  ttttttttttttt ttttt ttt ttttttt tttt far more
than 300 dpi,
But magic was not allowed to be the reason for
the power of reality in his work.

How do you do this? I asked, from a state of ad-mire

Opaque projector.

Ah, secret, he coulda kept it and been thought
amazing, sender of men in search of hows
denied whys, but he didn't

he told me the trick, as if his hand and eye and mind
were taken for granted, acknowledged by being

right used before my unaugmented eyes.

His gift he had received and owned,
not a thing to boast about, like a boy.

He was looking at me, something I remember
this way, a point, a reflection in the eye
that made images of the ideas of men
past
seem in the wind I go on to claim as my inheritance.
That's the scene from here, much was different,
most likely.

Adam Funmaker's clansmen from the past
breathed, nearly, their blessing, the hope

on ivory etched so nearly fractally real you can see
a reflection in Sitting Bull's eye staring

at a 440 stainless steel, razor-edged blade, never used.

A knife made for the image on the handle,
A magic Adam Funmaker portrait of a noble illiterate
chief among noble illiterates whose stories
have been told ten thousand years.

The Greeks fears were warranted.
Writing did shorten memories.
But it gave stories freedom to wend and find points

upon which they be told, to this day,
for no real reason, same as sunsets and beauty in general.

the knife I was looking at is depicted on the web
https://www.worthpoint.com/worthopedia/adam-funmaker-scrimshaw-native-1835351935
My wife still has her wedding ring, I lost mine,
in the desert or the storm or the fire, I can't remember losing it.

Grow win groan… mark off/28jul2022, upgrades check…
I  said I would, if I believed I could, gain, that actual
ever interest turning every fifty years, on unpaid
Jubilees among the feeble minded,
all of the people, some of the time.
- Interesting times, since ever I was aware
- compounding mistakes as hates, oy vey
- Travail, travel, wanderer drawn away
- Covid positive
by an un-listed wind,
an anomoly
on a nano
scale
- not that either, I lost count, yes
weight as value - {always} a war making ideas heavy,
salt thirsting from inside the wall, the system
makes the body drink so I may think, all is well
with my soul.
Weight-wise, I am alive,
worth then is measured
in might as might may prove choice of - el, yes, well
el, we all nod, we find the sound early to disting-wish

so. way say it, we are right our way, we drink
from our own wells, tanks we make, when we may.
We save on the surface the sheen, squinting eye tech
see in snow pieces of eight,

right
-- self assembling nano tech with a
built
in
programing language. But, I add, in my mind
but, on or off- but on, in breath
the living things are
running programs
built. Built in ifery ever, if the system forms,
the system must be activated or nothing occurs
to you to
bring
life
--- I'm not clear, is right conscience or conscious, with use
of science sense signals set
to know
when
intentional design is a tribe ID-word.
- we designed this thing we are in, or on, or about/
- maybe
(rules against saying intelligent design rule the teacher,
not the peacemaker, being minded to know all the magi-tech,
and more, when it comes to rules
in love and war, life,
per se, ain't fair.
Pay the piper and the mind that tuned the whistle
in my denture
to this peculiar signal)

morought-othephic resonance vector infection- Þ
check
genome editing crisper- thorny issue
check
Þ
humanizing pigs, honest.
craig ventor lifemaker?
He is known
for leading the first draft sequence
of the human genome
- using a mind formed after the bomb.
- there is a mark in time, for each first time.

tools, yeast synthesis, is this a war?
Physical war being planned
against our eukariotic soul mother, brother

is this
from Wonderbread,
an antibiotic problem or mere remaining wrong ideas?
Is it like…
cancer - or Chaucer in the shade, as the lackeys towed that
barque, 'n'**'st that bale, bo andoncha know
nobody steals a $400 bale o' good Montana hay for no reason…
there was a needle in that role,
a piercing maddening cross-referrent occurrence implicated
as interference pre'ferencing prefer not all you wish,
pre-referencing the author's op-own imagined experience…
meaninglessness is hard to market.
- I already read the writing on the wall metaphor
- I know the names I'll find, I just
- can't remember those two.

---checksums all the way down if/then/else
find a way to live.
Identify the man you were, read him in.
When he's his old, he'll seal the exploit.
Cancer decides, for itself,
that's all I can make from the confusion here,

there must be some kinda way outa here

You recall, said the Joker, to The Thief
meaningful work.
Guiding to death.
Shall I solve your meaningless ness, or my own?
Or might I

find the meaning built in,
that black box with the built in
programing language that
Singularity University guy said is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that
is so important,
the built in
programing language that


… interest, drew me, what drew you?
compounding
Life. Me, too.
Divine interest in life, especially the mortal aspect,
as pertains to life and godliness and all,
that came with this acceptance
of dominion, within the bubble I am pre-pressured
with somewhere
- so excited- jumpy-ohshit-spot
- runs
between plumb and puredy **** sure.

Having entered again the as-if realm, that m on the end of real

means money maybe maybe not knot ex-acted
see
a door? a narrow way few see? mmmm
Follow or flee, ennui, as for me,
I believe I've heard treasure is truth.

I dare be, yond all I ever knew, to make answer-able
prayers. I be for no other reason my reasonability
allows, but to trouble the water and watch it settle
- silver screen in the thymus meme-ory device
Sno-globe meditation technique, practiced in secret since…
who knows, but crystal ***** did do something.
People can look at sno-globes for ever,
and never grow weary of the novelty.

For some, simple is good, good is simple.
God is light.
Where light is…not
nothing is.
Evil thing in my mind, you have been certified nullified.

Wind war? I inherited the wind.
I know why the broad Sargasso sea is so still, willo'mywinds
whisper
Peacemakers come from homes troubled in the making.
The fecting up of the Peacemaker, protrudes
effective peacemaking is more
preclusive
unsettling,
Dear Rhea rumbling at more
pressure boiling for her to loose some
air.
Cultures sharing antibodies for old evils.
Once the evils men imagine are exposed,
refreshen the air. Take another hit,
message accepted,
we can handle those
acting-as-if the losers won,

but none need lose, for life, per se,
in the realm of mega-we,
life is seen
most precious by all men.

Some men may dare to despise their own flesh,
(despise means not look at, spek means look at, in many tongues)

however,
never shall life despise some men and look kindlish at others.
Salt, be salt, water, water, you, you
-insert Markov blankness
life has proven itself in you. Be or not is not the quest.
Go, be more alivening, is the quest.
Be a little leaven, a viral bit of peace,
just past understanding,
well within reach.

Be alive, and where you live, make peace so life may
may -be empowered to- make peace so life may
dub thee Troen Ridder
truth-be-told, teller
maker-of- peace so life may
increase abundantly good forever
for no better reason

than if you had your own way we would be friends.

Search for a video of sanctioned war in germ terms
eleven days from minimum

survivable dose MSD

to total ******* and

destruction of both sides, unless
the bubble of all they have learned can be

pressurized, from the insides,…
Thanks, yawn. stretch, sneeze
Pop.

I heard about Alamogordo. Thanks for that, too.

rightnow. what does fear of not knowing a known

feel like, suffering wise, scale of 1 to 10?

How about (odd phrase, eh) we suffer, instead,
the fear of the un
known

Nova Sanctorem sorta stuff. Book learned
spells mispoken by orphans

sifting through the ashes of all that went before,
enchanting, if one child finds a drum,

safe from the fire in the secret place,
child strikes the drum one time

wait
echo

Did your home place echo?
During day, or during night?

In my desert, it is both.
- go to where stories lie at rest.
With this drum and my echos,
we may finish your migration

Walk a mile with me, let me help you
with your bag,
your thing, trip, scene

Remember then?
Enchanting times with different echoes

Ancient, old as dirt, snake clan secret
extreme mental challenge trials.

Now. What's the missing or broken
ness you all are murmuring

how about? May I?

May I understand comprehension of perceptions
in the interest of interesting times,

which, when I was told that

"may you live in interesting times", is
alleged, an Imperial curse,
which, first,
by then, I had all ready taken if-that for
granted as good will toward me.

I considered it diligently
I sought the sweet influence of Pleiades,

I did. Lucky Luciano and the Polish word Lekka

Luck is a factor if luck is originally
onto logical epi stem strateg-ic
clear light, magi-tech-wise.

There is evidence. The rocks bear my significance
-in 2022
If I can, try sign if I can, and no sir not can sir
but breathe sir
censor, sweet sense or else

the most benign of the self-righting models
to embody
the six spins in one bubble.

could stumble and fall and have no means to right,
get the signal, right itself, per se,
if wrong fail of function better next time…ping
we wer- yea, verily ver-ifity confirmed
it-ify-ing evil, first
really.
Life in mere terms,
words live here, we know
Intentional wrong precedes right
in my experience of living while waiting for you.
but once you have a grip on evil
as a thing in your own realm,
under your dominion;

then, don't miss a wink.
sleep tight, don't dis-integrate and wake up crazy.

When Ezekiel saw the model, if he saw the model,
he'd, he 'ould have been well and truly
amazed, aclaimin', in awe, I saw

"wheels within wheels within wheels bubblin'
bib-lin' bubblin' in my soul"

banjo and fiddle, painful for an orphan
yearnin' to learn ttdrr drum that drum

My drum. The drum I found in the secret place
I knew was there, after the fire.

-----
Ah, Christmas, the message with its own,
built in medium to grow in with no competition.

The least suspected are all infected.
That Usual Suspects, all those sick social memes, as if

the war of numbers was a game for cannon founders

Krupp and whom, Red Shield in the ghetto?
I don't think that makes
all the sense in the world.
who was Warburg…{question or mark of timing}

-- we had things between scenes, glyphs, right
let's have a gliph,if we edit- I am this-Þ, as an after thought
Þ is the th sound among certain ancient tongues,
deafness separation and blind singers grown wealth in wine.

The act has formed another wedom,
and we have joined them on fi, okeh, fi-semper
in fiduciary, and rests, in truth compressed
Trust. On the dime
flip. Truth rests.
On this page again, a different me,
indeed, as different time, I'm
certain, fluidity of space, currents

swirling up three dimensions, six ways
measured from now at the center, once,

now at the edge, stretching one point,
to a pivot,
turn around and wonder what we do,
we mortal watchers, consuming life to live…

questing questions ion-
state, condition, or action, quest
quaerere "seek, gain, ask"

From <https://www.etymonline.com/search?q=quest>

Can you think slowly? I can. Several volumes back,
we, discovered Jello-timespace, blinkable
and rubbable dry bubble eyes, murine
is accessible, state conditions or act

as if I were a maker of peace,
on the grandest scale,
would I fret living
for no reason
but one I made up, from bits of others,
made up from matters cogitated to troubled
state conditional actions
made up, fantasized, built to imagine going past,

a mountain of a man, big bad Yohan,
mean, mean, mean man,

I mean it, always.

6-19-2022 2200
- not so long ago, then
Father's day, lotsa laughs,

little error allowed, the fineness,
sorting racist fear from awareness,
the culture does produce to patterns,
common genetics, tend to produce
select models of all the options,
over and over and over again,
a loss
a complete misconception of my reason
able faith, applied, no lies, only big stories,
yes, I cannot remember what was real
and what was what I would have done,

then I remember the gun, I did tell that
guy with the gun
to stop. And he did.

Then the other guy, the one with the
shot gun, he has in my face,
and I am ready,

see, I say, to me today, I am ready

if I were you, you would think nothing
p-- I am too
tired and slightly drunk to care,

of course, the course is parseltongue tested,
listen, hiss, you know, the warning,
I own this space this time,
the serpent says to me,
I laugh and stomp it,
I made that snake,
it was not real.

You know how I feel,
daring, don't give a dam
gonna do another show,

rock and roll reality, believe me,
we have the Sisyphus's, happy
engine wound up and ready,

but Sisyphus quit.
Got to the top and said, that's it
I quit.
And time stopped in that sector.

Go look.
Nothing changes and Sisyphus
is happy as Hell to have nothing to do.

I want something cooler, reader five,
blackbandit-double-ought shot
pick a sigel jelly sidgil  sign damint spel chek
you know what I mean, magic it sigil -right
I guessed that.
My son in law cringes at my cultural crassness.
I think jews come in more recognizable patterns
than cultures that abandoned the marriage restrictions.

"At least --- did not marry a ------" Oy, right, mix race,
half-breed
race as a what, eh?
what we weigh is race, we do not know,
they said we know, but we don't so, no more, race
is a wrong idea,
not right.
The flavor, the leaven and spices and plagues of
cultures, idea - a we of one earth
- call Covid leaven,
- we all been co-leavened
- we all share simbionts,
- earth is our home and our calling is to be good.
- Spirit inspire expire ssssssss
that is a people, idea that shapes a people
cultures, symbiosis chimera are we, carriers
post all we all survived, we are carriers of all it took.


Quiet, the ride, holy silencio, yohan let it be son,
grow old and burn your pages/
slow skip staged events…

Okeh, from the beginning I am the auth-oth- or that
maker up, of my faith, author and glosser, shiner, finisher
on elements at work in melody and har,mmmmoney
echoes, eeeee
we agree, that is no reason to dare see it so,
we are all, by nature's god, double-minded,
doubt not is a trick of the trade,
ɤ thistledo-find a phoneme that fits kid
unify, un yonder run un if un if un if I die I knew
you know, knowing good and evil, was the plan,

nothing was a secret, once in a life time you may know.

the theme of this party
is the industrial age
i came as a derailed steam engine
you were a doubtful catholic

the theme of this party
is the louisiana purchase
i came as a peso
urging you to openly weep

the theme of this party
is the enlightenment
i came as three guys infected with new faith
bringing you down on your knees

the theme of this party
is the american revolution
i came as all the British tea in Boston's harbor and


You dumped me.

My body is covered with tattoos

I made them with thoughts, ones I created with memories, ones that are considered permanent but bit by bit I manage to take them off. Ones that changed colors by the season I'm in. My body is covered with tattoos as well as scars. I managed to let go of the ones that wanted to take off, and ones that infected my being. Healing wasn't a pleasant place. I tell myself enough, but I couldnt help myself. ''Maybe this time, this one won't have to go.'' But I seal my scars with another one, and another, and another, and another, until my skin screamed, until my skin felt nothing.


I got bruises for not feeling

I am supposed to be happy. There are many reasons to be. But I guess I can never be satisfied and id still want more, even though I do not entirely know what I want. My heart feels so empty, that I hear the sound of my own heartbeat in the hollowness of its chambers. I grasp for air everytime because I feel my throat closing in. I'd get stomachaches and would want to ***** out everything that I am. Because I hate everything that I am, was, and became. Serenity is played in shows, movies and music, in people at the streets, walking alone but not feeling lonely, in colors, in everything that I can only watch but never touch and never become.


Imagine me having a heartbreak every single day I see you.

You walked past me looking at my eyes but never in too deep. My feelings are buried deep down, where I can't even dig. You are the love I never intend to have and the love I have always wanted. You took me to a whole new reality but left me there. I was screaming your name everytime my heart and body start to shake. You caused me all this pain but you were always innocent. I mistook your glances for longing, I was the one longing.


We take words and make it as romantic as it sounds

We put love in every bit of context or in some cases we force out love to take part of our whole being. That's how we live, survive and die. We write songs about the sky or the moon or the sun and make it seem like they are infatuated with the clouds. We make the wind sound like the humming of a broken hearted lover waiting to be salvaged by the knight. There was always a knight, who comes and saves us. Take us out of the black and white world we created for ourselves. We make this up for our loses. For our victories. For the ones that broke us. For the ones that mold us back. For ourselves.