.                                                                                         Beyond the mirror,
                                                         ­                                      I gaze leftwards
                                                       ­                                                                 ­—
                                                               ­                                  fazed inwards.



I hope in such a
reverse reality. . .
you are too.

I sit alone on the floor,
the light blinks in and out.
...or perhaps it is my eyes?
that I cast now over leftwards
to look at the doorway.
Empty, as it always is,
or is now? as it should be.

I feel as though I am floating,
no, I am grounded now.
Chained here to the floor.
My body lays like bones in the ground,
unmoving and crushed by dirt.
heavy and cloying, the smell of earth.
worms dig under my skin,
wriggling parasites in my skull.

Am I decaying? like I once wished.
my thoughts like rot, what else...
but to deteriorate into darkness.
My body lays on the floor,
a useless cadaver as it always was.
I am strung to it by some means,
my ghost lingering on the dead.
Have I not moved on yet?

"With our boxes of matches and our necklaces we shall liberate this country." -- Winnie Mandela, April 13, 1986 (Necklaces are tires filled with gasoline placed around the necks of bound political opponents and set aflame.)

lately lounging lazily
lavish luxuriant lull
loosely leaning leftwards
lightly lilting lyrics
languorous lively locals
LOVELY

Everything is blue:
the night-skin, blooming
with ten thousand street lamps;
the hall light in the stolid building
across the street, where shadows
drift leftwards like old smoke;
the dead clouds, that process
themselves across a drum-tight
cobalt heaving with rain;
the restaurant at closing time;
the cars that push up and down
the gaudy road;
the laughing bridge above
the humid blue park.
The city drinks ink and chokes,
throwing blue dice,
forgetting everything.

Woah, found this recently in my head...not bad actually...especially since I miss writing, like, a lot
I walked down whatever path was in front of me
so did she but we weren't WE
there were thorns on the ground
and all around
*** she screamed and I echoed
cuz it seemed serious *******
blood bleeds thru thorn holes
don't Noe if you knew that
but some thorns are metaphoric
and you can bleed from your soul
the walls seem ready to give up the ghost
and leave me dealing with the exiled host
synapses long silent set to refire
so this Clint seems set to expire
every memory from forever always there
three, nay four scenes playing together
i'd see them hear them smell them feel them
poignant powerful ocean within which i swim
i killed this **** decades ago to save me
it's why i put all those evil drugs in me
**** irony is a shakespearian witch
and she be a straight up full on *****
been fine bein' quasi intelligent
mostly anyways
found other aspects of Clint
which joyed my days
scared
terrified
reincarnation is upon me
the threats amplifying daily
don't wanna be that me
please
please
there is quite a pretty path weaving wandering through a forest, some groves, some open areas, some deep dark canopies, an occasional extended open space with a view you've only seen in dreams. Do you smell the fir needles and the fresh dirt? It's the type of experience which connects you to your planet. It's glorious and beauty of a type which no "e" connection will place into your soul forevermore.
along that path strolls a young man, perhaps a boy, he is laughing with his sister and the girl who would in a few years own his heart and his soul. Look leftwards, do you see the flutterby? Just starboard a wren whistles a mockingbird song and smiles and winks when you give it a confused face.
have you ever been on that path? I hope so becuz it teaches you a beauty beyond what most of us shall ever experience.
oh, anyway, he lived, sister died, love died, world continued completely indifferent...blah blah blah...path exists still...find it, enjoy it...
I walked down a path I thought I chose
naively believing I'm the ****** who chose
there were thorns on the ground
all around
but roses left and right
and Love actually gave me her light
for a little while
then of course back to exile
I walked down a path one day or the other
running laughing with Sean my Brother
he turned to look at me
yet said not a word
becuz we'd already heard
everything you could see
and spun kaleidoscope holes
along every fwy floor or wall
Oh ****
I forgot
he said...
and I quote...
…..Hello Nurse