Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.  

As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  

The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .

Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .

Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.  

In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .

Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience .
As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  
The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .
Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .
Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation .  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .  
In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .

I don't care about procreation
To increase our population
I just want some copulation
Some vaginal stimulation
Simple genital integration
There ain't no rationalisation
For my urge for satisfaction
In my lower region location
I'm pushing the realisation
That with the physicalisation
Of the ******* sensation
Is the only stipulation
Pushing the physical activation
Of ****** gratification

I am hot with the seduction
So no more procrastination
We have all the education
To perform this fornication
Without meaning or relation
I'm not looking for affection
Or a long term infatuation
It's just a simple invitation
To engage in ****** deviation
The heated manifestation
Of a physical altercation
Without an ulterior motivation
With not a single ramification
Just ****** gratification

Of course we'll use protection
I'm not looking for infection
Don't wanna have an inspection
Followed by a painful injection
Ive a straight up expectation
That you stick your big *******
In a prophylactic invention
Stopping all types of creation
We have built up the anticipation
And my wetness is an indication
That I'm ready for connection
I want some ******* action
No mental manipulation
Only ****** gratification

I am here now
Amidst the ashes;
Away from the world's mystification.

Do not weep for me now
Remember my sacrifices;
My love, my life for the nation.

They reckon they've won now
They laugh, they celebrate-
Sad! they do not grasp the ramification.

Mother have lost her child now
Holding a grave ache in her heart.
And me- a fallen father for my girl and son!

Will I be avenged now!
Or end up like a long lost memory
Of honor and love for my country?

Will I be avenged!
Or end up as a tool in the game of politics
Between vultures clutching on the opportunity?

Heavy Metal Lovers


A rolling stone gathers no moss the only time I was good at something all it took was four wheels
And you could be a Genius I guess the wheels gives it away this isn’t about bad boy bands heavy
That broke many a levees of the mind but it is inextricably wound together with music and how apropos
To write about it today when the music of all heaven was called to silence and then a whole lot of
Shaking began When **** Clark walked through the gate don’t waist it just taste it it’s all right to be
Burly and squirrely “Get lost in the rock and roll” amp it up Bob Seeger everything comes with rules
There was time before Elvis but it still applied cool cats had one command be cool don’t break the
Jackson rule of Cool Square is not the fit you want to project oh the sixties the place the strip in
Hollywood the car an Austin Healy convertible if they even had hard tops which I doubt reading Michael
Canes auto biography he spoke of him being there I didn’t see him but he got swallowed up by the
Great beast it flowed out of those clubs into the street the sidewalks full of hot babes and cool dudes
We were so low it was like you were on the payment it even got into the act there was a raw energy
That electrified every ounce of your being it rose out of the payment and cruised those Hollywood
Streets plus every street in America felt its heat and heard it s roar red cherry glass pack mufflers
Then songs took up the anthem I had fun fun until my daddy took my T bird away shutem down GTO Jan
and Dean’s Drag City, Dead Man’s Curve, The little old lady from Pasadena and many more but the king
of cars that held the title was held by no other than the Cobra we were a couple of brazen GIs with a
Seventy two hour pass we met the enemy at a stop light the Austin Healy sounded so throaty in that
Southern California night air and we lived the song do you know the way to San Jose LA isn’t nothing but
A bunch of old freeways we would roar up the entrance to the ten the Malibu highway the Five to Dego
The 710 to long beach and the Queen Mary this southern California kid from Compton a suburb of LA
Was giving me the grand tour Disney and Knox berry later in the day the big sad Walt had just died
And then there was this monster next to us it was towering before we felt so continental a slight British
Smugness as we drove this fine European sports car but when the lion roars your purring becomes a
Little puckish it was bulging in comparison we were like a joke your mother won’t let you have a real car
What did they paint the light red how many shades of red did we turn as we set in this shadow of green
Paint and death for any idiot that tossed out a challenge when he took off it was like our car was
Wearing a smug British suit and the force he generated when he accelerated tore every stitch off down
To just underwear praying the smog would quickly envelop us the rest of the way didn’t happen so you
Do what anyone does you choose the less of two evils and rattle on about how they put Porches engines
Into VW bugs like who cares why is one of those suckers behind us well they are cool and this is about
Cool cars you could always tell them by the tail pipe instead of a round rifle barrel it had a wide round
Funnel at the end like the old blunder bust guns of the colonists then an era and times needs a voice
The male was a mix of Lou Rawls and Berry white doing the singing but also any time introduction was
Needed Aretha took care of the female side Jimmy Hendrix took care of the instrument on his
Supernatural guitar Hugh Masicali African Jazz drummer follow the beat every teen Idol was making
The girls swoon then you add in the mix the American auto chrome and steel dreams see the heat rising
Flashes that were blurs running wide open filled with teens and thrill filled screams and then there was
The exit and the entrance there was a royal distinction that rubbed off on its occupants the cool look
And clothes and hair for both sexes dreamy stars in all places not just the bright lights of movie magic
For girls it was they rode well but if they took the wheel this sealed the deal how can you add curves to
Curves they had the saying your blowing my mind man it in toned them as perfect inter changeable the
Womanly softness the interior the lines outside truly defined you are in the presence of qualities that
Run deeper than just the surface you see so much more how blessed when both car and women
Continually amaze you think you discovered everything oh foolish one you just stepped into another
Power zone that was built in at creation somehow the car was somewhat accidental but the woman’s
Was on purpose cheating would cease to a great extent if the truth was only known you got more
Excitement than you will ever know and for the man let him step out rise to his full height there is
Something sweeping and grand about it how could it be any different muscle and brawn distinction
Used as in art subtle but by being so it is so telling appeal runs no stronger and it effects effortlessly
Adds maximum benefit and joy girls find it unmercifully enjoyable packaged like fine wine in a wooden
Box with straw in other words perfected delivery of romance simply a soothe that washes over you
With lasting ramification the golden straw has glistening particles as well as star dust that make other
World tastefulness abide in two lives equally shared so drive into the setting sun in your own heavy
Metal dream that we love so well

Take your time, spend it wisely, do you see that there is no ramification for the shrewd?
We spend day by day for ourselves, set our time to the future, and see that good is always the result. We speak as kings and queens with no result for our effort.

The people look towards the podium, for their political support.
They do not know of any king aside of that of politics.
I am king, the king of my own realm.
You’re the king of yours.

If we choose to war and slaughter, let us war with our minds and slaughter nothing but belief.
We’ve acquired the ground, now we spend our time in the sky.
We know the systems are ever changing, we can change it for good; manipulate the cogs.
We can build our sky, temper it, so that we can acquire our better kingship.
Love shouldn’t hurt anyone but me.

Faith shouldn’t hurt you at all.
I do not need anyone to guide my own steps for me, for I understand who is evil and who is good.
Listen you are all but children to me, O children, O sons, and O daughters, listen!
My word is legend, my name is glorious for I have conquered the skies, and I am coming back to conquer the ground. My rite and will is to ****, I will burn the Tundra, I will cut the Earth, and no one will oppose the occupancy of my army.

A garden will never exist in my realm without your help.
A morning will be unsettling but the night will bring terrors beyond belief.
I will be here to help, I will help you, O Queen.

Chocolate luscious lips
spreading opening
like a blooming flower,

Honey dew kisses trinkling down
while you drink
from my over flowing cup of lust.

Meaningful quips.

Said so softly, caressing whispers as

I whimper while softly
crying out your name,

Lustful stares,

while you extracted
a scream from my lips,

holding

my gaze all the while you've
probe my delicate rose bud.

Stockinged thighs and garter belts dance
to my ankles like swinging vines.

Hands on knees and up my legs,

opening me.

Licking, Kissing, *******...

We breathe rapidly.

Once again legs begin to part,

as quickening hearts beat faster and faster.
Music to my soul,

you breathlessly
call out my name,

Silken fingers touch,

unfolding petaled tulips,

Soft succulent kisses
traces up and down bodies,

the emotional ramification's,

left me speechless

while you profess your need for me ,
your love for me.

going insane,

grinding *****,
pumping groins.

"0oo-oh-ooo"

Screams aloud, muscles strain...

Proudly legs wrap around waist.

Soulful moans rant
the night as bodies collide,

crashing towards ecstasy

the seed is sown.

Passions met.

Heated to a cooling sweat.

Slowing the earth
is turning right again.

I can hear our hearts beating.

tangled feet's still dance together,

legs mingled in sheets.

Blankets scatter all over the

bed.

Spilling on to to floor.

Warm and cozy,
hazy feeling and a bit love sick too
like in a lazy dream.

Out of steam and out of breathe,

panting and trying to stand.

My legs give way and buck from underneath,

smiling eyes stare back at me .


Someone wake me from this dream.

Of

♥♥♥♥****** Gratifications!♥♥♥♥

Always Me Ayeshah

Self improvement isn't always
Easy but nothing ever is
When it's worth equals your birth
And no longer do I feel cursed

Cause control with moderation
Accountability and resiliency
Needs alignment so my assignment
Is to create a formula like science

That leaves me less defiant
And use my rolodex of excuses  
Cause that laziness is useless
Or maybe I'm just to stupid

But you don't have to be smart
To learn from a mistake
That I inadvertently force on myself
Mimicking the traits of ****

Without the date so I try to escape
To make my life better
Cuz I believe it's never too late
Wait....they say never say never

Which is more convoluted than clever
So whatever, I just wanna be better
So I leave this motivational letter
to remind most hardship endeavored

Are created by me so whether
I call it bad luck deep down I know
lobotomy of proper ideology leaves my life like our Economy, and its told

Philosophy states success is made when preperation meets opportunity
And it's been hard prepping for what can feel like a dead end but... No

Cause faith isn't just for religion
You must calculate your vision
Cuz any goal met must first be set like premonition the first Provision

Of many on a desired mission
no longer will my present position discourage me cause courage.Be my currency even if currently conditions

Leave me impositioned by decisions
Of the past that finally crash
When it chases me to grasp
The changes I've made but that

Is the bad karma I rightfully have
Wooven like its tapestry that flows
So without a needle&thread; or learning to knit i still knew how2sew

forced to reep it and keep it asan
Expensive lesson given
Ramification and consequence
Once written will later find u wishin

That the epiphany now hittin me
Didn't need so much time to see
But the sams transgressions may
Also be a blessin, a present of me

Who is evolved from who I use to be
But still knowing its nor enough
So more consciously I move on as it cautions me to live lawfully tough

And although premature I grew up
This reflexion will be my incubator
better late than not seein the indicator to act as my Instigator

The initiative initiating creator
So if you judge me for early labour
That conceived the belief Received i only hope it relieves knowing these

Words are left to show your deceived
But if that's the cost I wagered
Then this poem now stands a receipt for dues paid and mayb one day later

I can be refunded or if nothing write it Off as a cost of business
Or even education bridging the gap
Of inflation since my occupation

Leaves me expendable so vacation
is taken at club prescription med
So metaphysically I fly to my own
Tropic island gettin out my own head

Where I dare swim in the despair
Of being overwhelmed by damage
left by dumb adolescence to manage
The mess it collects so i bandage

damage i caused Unnecessarily
Physical and mental damage
mislabeling Addiction as a habit like affliction warnings were in spanish

Walking around while I fly high
Not realizing I was being ravaged
So if i end average its stil better than
The full picnic basket short a sandwich

That I was, with a side order of
A chip on my shoulder
Which I learned to swallow with my
Pride which is y i got fat when older

Which is a built Im jacket as colder
It will definitely get til karmas done
Dishing out what outta be awfully
Close to described as ******

A relationship maintained constantly
And a futures what it's costin me
Basically karma holds the **** u emit
Like it was a bag of your colostomy

Only it gets tossed back onto me
Which sparked nostalgia in my head
Hearing my mothers voice echo
Now making sense of why she said

I was **** for brains or **** head
Like my dad often used
Not as abuse but to give truth
Of what becomes of wasted youth

Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to its progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to its innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of its conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of its relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience .

As the relative complexity of its interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of its conjunction yet the totality of its ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  

The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet its diversity exceeded its physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .

Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .

Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor .  

In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the unmitigatably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .

Chased we were into the dying woods
A mob of armored men on the crimson horizon
In all that I do, it was and is for the love of you

Fugitives are we
For what? A serious crime it must be
To fall in love with him and he to love me
Promised to another man I was
But I'll be ****** if I live a life without love

Jealousy of a man has derived
A bounty on your head dead or alive
And double the reward for my return
Every tender loving night with you
Will forever within me burn and burn

Bitter is the understanding
Between we two
You say to me "I'll never stop loving you"
Stopped in our tracks with a fruitless plea
He tells me to go back, that he'll always be with me
For he'd rather watch me from afar with another man
Than me be forever a fugitive in a foreign land

A stubborn gal I've always been
This argument presented, he knows he'll never win
I'd rather run forever or be dead
Than spend a night in another man's bed!

This hopeless romantic devotion
I am overtaken by fervent emotion
As a hail of arrows rains down upon us
I give my love one final embrace
And stare the reaper in the face

Every piercing blow testament of my intense dedication
I knew this love was not without ramification
His beautiful body I shield with my own
These dead woods will forever be my home

First sight deduction
or stereotype prediction,
taboo fortification
knotted in plain misconception
by acts of pre-given ramification
misguide from the fact, that brings us tension,
that love is not born from selection
or just wishing for perfection.
It is just a cocoon of growing affection;
worst, or sometimes best, grown to addiction.
Dreams are dreams and reality is always in sanction
none can take control of all our mutual action.
And if dreams come to life, they are often unlike your imagination,
for reality is not formed just by your petty brain tissue compilation.
A bond of two is formed just by investing time in growing devotion
and equal acceptance to open shared experience, led by satisfaction;
Pure, simple, unnoticeable shedding of the cocoon in prolonged joyful attraction
gives birth to the bliss of love that envelops both in now bonded shared adoration.

Sitting in a room alone. It is clean, brightly lit but peaceful. A cup filled with water sitting upright on the table to my right. A stack of papers rests in front of myself. The sun shining brightly through the window, refracting off of the glass of water creating beautiful dancing lights across the paper. Glancing at the top page reads “Report of Psychological Evaluation” in ******* letters. An ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach imitating a thunderstorm is on the rise. The heading continues to cite my name, age, birthdate, dates of the evaluation, Psychologist’s name, and acronyms that are unfamiliar. Grasping the paper it feels smooth, sliding my hand across feeling the ink slightly raised off the page. Following the words as they describe myself at eighteen years of age.
Intelligence is complex. Some are off the charts brilliant, some are average, and others are below the standard of society. People live their entire lives obsessed about their IQ score because humankind accepts this as a universal standard of intelligence. Not everyone’s IQ can be measured accurately as it does not conclude someone’s motivation, creativity, curiosity, innovation and kindness are all key components of character traits that are admired and desired. Unfortunately people, like myself who are dyslexic, have a different method to measure our intellect as we must sit and talk with a psychologist for hours in order for them to determine how our brain works. This system consumed twenty-one hours of my life thus far. Repeating the same test throughout my life with various puzzles, a complete biographical timeline and questionnaires all to be summed up into thirteen pages. Strapped to my ankle like a ball in chain, my thirteen pages are forever in mind.
Looking at my evaluation form my name is written on the top of the page dismissing any doubt. Gazing at the pages on the table with a combination of anxiety and annoyance running through my mind. Reaching out to grasp the pages feeling the significant weight that it holds over me. At first glace the text blurs together. Reading closer the text becomes words but the language is different. The tone of the paper is distant and disconnected. Descriptions of my life begin to form, mapping out every milestone. Since the age of seven, my life has been a roller-coaster from changing school every two-three years, being bullied for being different, to finding salvation within myself leading into proactive accountability to finally rise above all odds. Growing up was not easy. Especially before the No Child Left Behind Act, children with dyslexia were over looked, as many teachers did not know how to teach them. Even now many teachers in public school are not equipped to recognize when students are struggling. Imagining a life where I am not dyslexic, how different it would be.
Turn over the page to expose more information. Written in the text is a comprehensive account of my life. Plainly scripted describing one milestone at a time. Reading a biographical novel, one familiar yet no emotional attachment. As though I am reading my life through the eyes of someone else’s words. The formality of the writing is distant and concise. Leading the viewer to see me as unremarkable.
Reading on, the narrative of my life changes into graphs and floating numbers that are meant to define my intellectual abilities. Staring at the numbers pondering what it means. Acronyms appearing left and right like popcorns. Confusion starts to set in as the suspended numbers start to dance. I was diagnosed at the age of seven in 2000. Nearing the end of first grade, a year I barley remember as I hardly learned anything substantial. My teacher never showed that they cared even after I told them that I was dyslexic. Looking back, I feel that my teacher never understood what I was trying to tell her; instead my teacher brushed me aside not even thinking twice of the ramification that she caused.  
Lifting and flipping the next page, but the weight feels heavier than the last. Pressure on my chest begins to build with my anxious mind. Acronyms begin to pop up out of nowhere like popcorn. Like setting sun the words and uses of language slowly start to become unfamiliar as the biographical aspects starts to fade. The terminology shifts to a different standard that is foreign. Lacking the understanding language that is formal academic style.
Remembering when my mother told me that I needed to change schools because the public school I was currently attending refused to help me. She continues to explain that I would not get the proper guidance unless I was behind four grade levels. As any rational person would think it was unacceptable. Over the next five years I attended two different schools still skating by, making little to no progress. Glancing back at the evaluation form it does not show the hardship and suffering that I endured trying to get an education that everyone has a right to. Reading the form, seeing my life plainly written with little to no emotion. Remembering, how I cried everyday, because I did not want to go to school. Daily kids would call me dumb and stupid because they could not understand how someone like myself existed. Ostracized by my peers I never felt so alone yet surrounded by so many people.
Before transferring to another school I never met anyone else with dyslexia. My salvation was around the corner; before I knew it I was attending a school in a different state in the middle of nowhere. Once more, I needed to update my evaluation, six more hours of my life to prove that I needed all the help I could get. This school on my evaluation form should get more credit to my success. My time there is summed up into one paragraph but the effect will last a lifetime. The three years I attended this school was difficult but absolutely necessary.  
Imagine yourself at twelve years of age but you only have the capacity of reading at a third grade reading level. I was so far behind it did not seem possible to catch up to where I was supposed to be. Spelling was broken down into phonics in my first year. I was encouraged to read and test my comprehension daily. Math was the only other class that wasn’t reading. Later I was introduced to science and writing. In my last year I took a history class and proceeded to complete high school level classes, as I was technically a freshmen. After attending this school I gained six grade levels within three years, ready to transfer once more as a sophomore entering into officially as high school student.
Once again turning the page, unable to resist the temptation of reading just a little more. Despite the paper feeling light to the touch the information generates the feeling of a lead weight. The popcorn of acronyms begins to intensify as the biographical section comes to an end. Test results are the next section of the evolution. The psychologist also examines my personality in detailed written notes. The movie of “Stranger Than Fiction” comes to mind as a “big brother” feeling psychoanalyzed.  
High school was no different as I was still surrounded by my fellow peers all in a similar boat trying to survive. Three years pass once more, sitting in a small room with a different psychologist recounting my life. Explaining my story, completing puzzles hopefully for the last time. Graduation is around the corner, I feel different. Six years ago I was at the bottom of my class. Now, I am at the top of my class, graduating with high honors, straight-A student accepted into college. I’m on top of the world. It’s amazing what can happen in in six years.
Flipping to the next page, the lead weight transitions into a dumbbell. Dancing numbers mimicking the illuminating refraction of the glass of water. The numbers seem random at first glance, as there seems to be no pattern to correlate it. The acronym popcorn begins to explode with every other word with no end insight. Words begin to merge and brake down. The written text transitions into gibberish. I recognize my name in a sea of unrecognizable babble. A pain of needle ****** start to add pressure onto my chest.
The dancing numbers suddenly vibrate as the insanity of the acronym start to multiply. The splattered numbers represent what is inside my mind. A roadmap filled with blockade and detours constantly shifting in my head. Breathing becomes difficult as it feels someone has placed a cinder block on my chest. The acronyms start to plateau nearing the end. The text becomes legible once more.
Jolting up, I close my eyes and rest my hand against my forehead. Looking up at the window at the peaceful beautiful day. My brain starts to hurt and becomes numb. Mentally taking a step back from the stack of paper I push it across the table unable to finish. My brain is about to explode with the new information that I am still processing. My name is attached to this document as its littered throughout the evaluation. My academic life is detailed out for anyone to read at my school. Realizing this document defines me as a person. Ball and chain strapped to my ankle forever defining my intelligence.
I am incapable of escaping this documentation process to only be confirmed as someone with average intellect. The education system only documents ones ability on English and mathematical skills as deems more important in our growing society. The problem is people like myself rely on other forms of intelligence to compensate. Forever in our back pocket our evaluations sit there until it become irrelevant. After pondering this notion the bell rang and it was time to leave.
  The evaluation form that I hold today was completed when I was eighteen years old, still ringing true, pointing out my flaws, and exposing my weaknesses to anyone willing to read. After all of this time, I often wonder do these thirteen pages still define my intelligence? Having risen above my challenges and surpassing anyone’s expectations, who holds the key to the ball chained to my ankle? It is debilitating having a physical reminder of my limitations after I have accomplished so much. Struggling constantly, as I continue to fight battles even into adulthood. Graduating from college is the greatest accomplishment thus far. Imagining my next graduation is next year is unbelievable. No one knows where your life will take you but one day my evaluation form will wither away into oblivion as I stride everyday to not let it define me.

Before there was anything that mattered everything that would ever be existed , it was the essence of totality , it was without dimensional constriction or necessitated form .  Optimistically speaking time had no relative realism to it’s progression because realistically nothing had happened yet .  As it continued it became according to it’s innate inflections as a functionally integrable form .  The questionably understandable nature of it’s conjunction was an omnipotent directive beyond necessitated action or morphological construction .  The enigmatic consciousness of it’s relatively interrelated conception was spontaneous and yet it continued without elemental omniscience.  

As the relative complexity of it’s interrelations evolved dimensional consistence was born.  Humanly understandable laws of physical integration governed many facets of it’s conjunction yet the totality of it’s ramification was beyond humanly realistic conjecture .  

The organic morphology of biological ontogeny was a conceptually reflective derivative of functional physical mechanics yet it’s diversity exceeded it’s physical complexity , understanding evolved .  Relatively extraneous interpolations of adhesively practical extremity succeeded in a hierarchy of functionally integrable forms .

Retrospectively speaking pragmatic practicality is a humanly rational possibility .  Rational logic can conceive of individually totalitarian structural forms , yet the implosive nature of their rational cohesiveness becomes a practical partiality due to the diversity of their definitive impetus .

Perhaps the essence of our being is the logical counterpart for the matrix of our subjectively conclusive social fragmentation , or perhaps we are evolutionally incapable of cumulatively rational correlation.  Problematic diversity could be perfectible on an individually infinite level or contrarily perhaps ubiquitous causality is the ultimate survivor.  

In any case it is beyond our subjugatively rational cohesive coercion to intercede en masse on our own behalf as an integrated unit. Our conceptual abilities have been thwarted by the immitigably individual nature of our extraneous conclusiveness .

Introduction attraction flirtation speculation deliberation emotion preoccupation acceleration.

The ultimate seduction.

Beautification celebration confirmation negotiation consummation affection sensation adoration.

Such sweet glorification.

Exploration temptation reflection frustration deception obligation alienation rejection.

The anguish of separation.

Desolation ramification medication intoxication addiction acceleration degradation consultation.

The mind-bending revelation.

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Oh, glorious motivation.

But really, they’re everywhere and always -

Those damnable phonemes.

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Even musculação.

But finally, hopefully, there's Felicitação!

a sunshower burbles —

as it trades hemispheres

with the opposite side

of a street.

laid out bone-dry,

sped into the sheering turn

of a mountainous cloud.

the washed out curve

of a storm’s prophesied

color — left to unbox its monster.

commanding the ogling eyes

of fish schooling town.

their sloughing motions

opening and closing like

purple umbrellas —

prepared for a far off

land too near the refuse

of fading shelter.

the template of promise,

poring over unmanifest

milk and honey.

silence becoming the culmination

of a mass exodus —

a version of itself long

to roam.

until another version of

itself thoroughly destroys it.

all that would be the aghast

ramification of encounter…

disposed of as neatly as what

was, and then is not.

an unrestored space — where

there is not much to tell.

another purple entelechy

that went on as if

varied.

here is a whole…

that does not oversleep

when sounder than sleep.

resurrections are not singular

events — they can not be,

if death is to be revived

as much as exhausted.

which is that whole,

finally yielding no place —

where a storm’s color

may be prophesied.

gone too — purple entelechies…

gone too — The Purple Entelechy.

ego: as the misnomer of "focus"...
     baggage
without any clothes burdened
by it, burdened by
the "idea"
         of the purpose of
                              baggage...
people take holidays...
without necessitating
        the "thrills"
                          of "boredom"...
such an antiquity remnant
demanded for the purpose of
ramification the simply
plain, modern, mundane:
       qualm of per-ex,
                              i.e. existence...
        the inability to "think"
as twinned to the inability
to narrate...
                 too many plateaus
to solve a "complexity"
of suckling at the mere
               constance of replica...
            and death,
the moor...
              a grey thinkery...
    a tank-with-placebo-ballistics...
the involuntary
parasite of life...
     the third-party-occupant:
slothful lodger...
               third-limb:
   the concept of diacritical
marks, in syllable constructs,
within the dynamic of
situating
    a "concern" for
                          parentheses;
the diacritical
    arithmetic of the 'laut
    above the UM...
                             given...
it's hardly an AH... when it's
an a-yee cannibalism...
     since not an aye,
i or why to give a ****
as to: huh?!
                  then sure:
iron will hugh...
            which is not even
an 'ugh grunt...
               ******,
you give me clear syllables...
i talk pretty parrot to you...
otherwise...
have this grammar
debackle all you want...
      blah blah peepin' tom
also did: one year
out of liner for being bonkers
in...
                sure as ****
'e' shoved
a thumb up the windsor's ***!

Sometimes I dream of being a kid
Sometimes I dream of never waking up
Sometimes I dream of being free.
Sometimes I forget what life is about.
Sometimes I dream the 8 pills multiplied by 14 and that I died in the corner of the scene.
Sometimes I dream of never giving up the 10 floor I was planning on jumping.
Sometimes I dream of taking the poison I had been hiding.
I used to mark all my birthdays and count them all as funerals.
And I'd take pleasure or pain then clean up the deed.
That's a good girls memorial.
At 13 I thought I was projecting
Just a product of society, I'm copying what I'm given.
I thought it was boisterous and fraudulent  to be suicidal.
So I became less pretentious.
Waited for mother nature.
A crosswalk, a powerful storm, a sickness
Glimmering on my birthday candles.
I've been better,
Older and meticulous I take to anger to get me off.
Moving from place to place, trading ciggaretes to be unconscious.
I polarize memories, scared they'll leave me if I'm not cautious.
Gatekeep happiness, the child and its loss.
My daddy still a distant obsession, now closer than ever:
Kid me saw him as a god, now I wonder if he's ever been human.
My mommy still the embodiment of warning, I used to think I'd see her cured of her epiphanies.
She's here but she'll never understand.
Every morning colder I'm clinging to what I never had
Hair's been black, blue, green, purple, pink until it wasn't,
Scaring trespassers with my fingers on the book subtitle
"legal ramification of a psychopath who's suicidal"
I've been 3 then 7 then every other number every year,
I refuse to get older the same way I refused to stay little.
Being really has been rough,
I guess I'll have to grow up.
But sometimes I dream of all my years going my way.
Sometimes I feel stuck in and out of my own brain.
Sometimes I want to erase my scars to make room for more.
Spectaculos speculations of a nail arching out of the floor.
I'm better even when I'm not.
Kid me would want to die the moment something irritating happened , present me would wait a second.
Not for me now but for me in the future,
Who could be smiling at me and remember,
That it was worse once maybe it won't stay so forever

A forgotten ramification
Brutal yet honest
10000 volts
40cc
Ready, aim, fire
Fill my veins with death
Challenge any god
If ever your blood soaks my hands
I ask for all three
Living without you
Would only be a waste of oxygen
So kiss me goodnight
I’ll hide you in my drawer
My sweet surrender
My half ounce of Mary Jane