. i'm not against psychedelics... ****... syringe in excesses of LSD... but memory is also a psychedelic drug... albeit there is no excess of colors, and it's not b & w, but sepia tinged... i like the notion of a sepia curtain... maybe that's why i have my head ******* on so tight, and a hardened heart, to be able to write this... while others write, having drunk as much as i have, like kindergarten 5 year old, children!

i'm not here for the 80+ years that don't matter,
lying lethargic, semi-conscious,
demented, in a care home bed
where i'm abused for ******* my nappies...
i'm here...
   for the 16 or so years that really matter...
hence?
   i like to watch the metamorphosis of skin...
i never understood women who
cut and wait for some"magical" revelation
of internalized pain...
   those four stumps worth of knuckles
upon which i exhausted the amber of
a cigarette burning?
   second look?
      nice to see the many layers of skins,
prior to, and not including the bone...
     liver damage, whatever, bring it on...
i'm waiting...
  i can't, but i'm hoping...
to sow unto my skin the faint tincture
of a gangrene tattoo to
boast ink in Frankenstein green...
mingling with tongue numbing
yuck of bruise plum, and a dash of
Vishnu blue...
       oh i'm waiting: i can't wait...
   death is such a farce:
like i explained to my mother...
  you know... sometimes you're after
the pain: since you've reprogrammed
yourself, to enjoy it...
                  no, no *****-whipping
wimp diarrhea -
   i want the "furry" liver...
              i'm waiting, and i'm waiting...
and...
            nose-bleeds are past my worries...
i've had one in school, during
english class...
    no problem...
  can you believe it?
my neighbor's cat, Bella,
an albino climbed roofs, climbed into
chimneys...
   was knocked by a car,
presumably...
               and is in need of an operation,
might have one of her hind legs
amputated...
but she's also anemic...
so she might die during the operation...
poor ******, she...
                    heterochromic to boot...
      the sort of beast, which,
if being a Saudi Sheikh...
you'd love to put an Afghani burqa
over...
            Fonz... eeeeeeeeeee...
why bother with a counter argument?
the European variant of the niqab is
already in place...
sorry... the women you see in movies
or *****? ever see the same quality
shopping for underwear?
      not once...
                 it's such a sad little world
out there, jealous men...
who can't afford keeping
            castrato men for their, "harems",
and, evidently, don't poke enough
****** to keep the concubines entertained,
whole strap-on ******?
well... they're just strap-on ******...
ha ha!
                  ha ha ha ha!
        oh sure, i'm a loser, honey bee...
point being: i much prefer the company
of whiskey to that of a woman...
oops... did i say something, sheepish,
i.e. b'aah b'aah b'aad?!
   couldn't figure out the stuttering A
in diacritical markings...
since there isn't one...

   as i asked my Jewish convert into Islam...
i don't mind the Quran...
but what's your opinion on the, Hadith?
no answer... dumb look...
akin to: how do you know about that?
it's my eight's in a row right
to know what i consider, hostile.

         well, given that in Hindu...
the H... is a surd, rather than an authentic letter...
e.g.? dhaal...           that veggie
curry made from lentils?
there's no H in the name...
it's not a letter... it's an orthographic
inclusion of: consonant (d), surd (h)
                      vowel(s) (a, a), consonant (L)...
unless you of course deduce
there being a microcosm of the macron
hovering about one of the A,
deducing the other A is not necessary...
i drink...
because my excuse rests on the argument:
i'm not here for the 80+ years,
a life filled with an exhausted memory
bank,
    that is of no use
when it doesn't allow itself an
immediacy of convergence in
    what bicycles are founded upon:
teeth and chain, overlapping...
immediacy of overlapping -
memory... that alternative to psychedelic drugs...
some people take this over-bountiful
drugs to exemplify colors,
hyper-inflate them...
i just remember,
   and i know what memory is,
compared to the educational rubric
of, say, learning the Pythagorean equation,
how modern schooling is...
primarily?
   a memory erosion tool,
of a personal life, but more esp.,
  a childhood...
                  you want a drug more
potent than the Amsterdam legal mushroom?
RE-MEM-BER.
               like i said:
i can do what others won't do in
80 years... i can be content with
the zenith of doing what i do,
within a space of what excess drinking
allows me...
      the rest?
   either nostalgia... or regret;
i don't have the time preference to entertain
either...
esp. if what awaits me is
a sober case of dementia,
   and bedsores (odleżyny)...
             but sure, **** me,
go for it!
                   i pray to god that i managed
to fulfill my "evil genius" plan,
of drinking myself to death...
**** it... i have to match the sensible
life expectancy of the poorest of
the poorest African nations...
    don't really feel like living up
to the European turtle, neck,
demands for glorifying medicinal advancements.

I have been programmed
Been tighten with the wires
Cant move and think beyond the limit
I am smiling as no sadness got place

I work, care and love
Dont have choice beside that
I make myself happy
Dont know how to express hurt

Can you please make me feel
That I can cry& share my problems
Can you give me time to feel the love
Want to do the thing you are doing for long

And poor me , he switched me off
Reprogrammed me
And make me robot again
:(  :(

i swore to myself
that a flick of the tongue
would never shelter self-hatred
so deeply embedded into the patchwork of my being.

contagion is a sad **** thing
and cycles seem to be an endlessly contributing factor
those who hurt cannot become hurt
and so we place our self-pity at the top of our priorities
disregarding emotion so carefully hidden in the fragile mind of others.
however there are few who's torment is only self-projected

i am one
an anathema that exists in silence

my past has been placed in a box full of secrets
along with the evidence of my self-mutilation
is there a way to keep my eyes shut and my dignity revealed?
this world is numb, and the apathy must be getting to me
because i would rather not feel a **** thing
than to be plagued by misery
from myself and the ones i love
however, emotions are not choices
and humans cannot be reprogrammed

it seems the pleas and slurs i leave in place of words
are what my familiars take to heart
bodies speak such complex languages
and not everyone has the patience
or the attentiveness
to listen to anything other than a cry

and although i warn
and beg for warmth
i receive only glaciers
and memories of faces
overwritten with impassivity
what i would give
to reach into the darkest parts of my soul
and rip out this sorrow
that has clung itself to the shadows of my psyche

in the depths of my worst memories
there is a wish
a want
a need
to take this heart of mine
and throw it to wolves
to be destroyed but desensitized
in my heart
is all my pity
my lust
my anger
my sadness
and sunshine darkened and gutted
so very long ago

The phone line dripped apologies
While I sat silently
All 3,000 miles north of me
Isolation froze solid on this moment

He had a heart attack they tell me
The room gift wrapped around me
Ripped open
Exposing a flaky rib cage

My arms wanted to stretch back home
Grab his heart
And palpitate his benevolence
Rewinding muscle memory

I have been told too many lies in hospitals
Watched a plethora of lives fall victim
Heard too many **** machines scream
Longing for the lost all too often

So I reprogrammed a code
For my Heart to beat overtime
To satiate the hearts
That no longer exist

It's cranberry sauce
That’s it, I’ve done it
My brain is mush
Heartbeat through a megaphone
I’m pulling on my pant legs
Tightening my veins around my bones
& I think the thermometer in my brain needs reprogrammed

I. Now I’m a cozy embryo
With cotton in my marrow
Last of my breed so the bad men can’t see me
I’m sitting here in my own bullet train
Flying through metro lights at night
With coruscating sodium vapor
Vibrating in my peripheries
My appendages do not exist

II. We are the carbon monoxide leak
We are the cold coaxing hypothermia
Still trying to define the agony of existence
& Beauty of meaning through definition

III. “If you don’t get old, you die”
Shut up & pay your taxes old man
I can stay young for as long as I want
I am healthy
I am eternal
I’ve got all the cotton in the world

IV. I wonder if all sentient life deals
With the same paranoia as humans do
It’s the reason we never shut up
& hold love for vague idols

V. I like smiles
& I like sadness

VI. What does loneliness see when it chases its
Shadow?
You’ve got a mouse in your hand that cannot know that you are
Sentient.
You are a wooden giant from outer space that burned upon
Entry.
Where does apathy sleep when it has had too much to
Eat?
Why can’t you see your house from three million miles
Away?
If you need help breathing then you deserve to die in
Appalachia.
If I lie here long enough under enough blankets, then
I'm not real
Is it possible to save up enough money to avoid humans
Altogether?

Just like that, the spiral ceases
We were packed
Like sardines
Wrapped in butcher paper
Blind night vision
Then deer in headlights
Kissing the pavement
Mutually requited
Uninterest

There's no reset button
No ctrl alt delete solution
I am forever changed

I can not hit esc
There's no back out option
My life's been rearranged

Short circuited
By the surge of your touch
I will never be the same

I've been Remanufactured
Reprogrammed and Restored
My heart's logo reads your name.

©Tina Thompson

Impulsive drones, these machos you have flimflammed,

Wolfing your proportionality like a **** brewed nectar of grapes,

When flimsy limb frills no more interweave, expertise reprogrammed,

Are you the lone from infinite frames murmuring, “once more, he escapes”?

Indignation ******* broadcasted, ferocity wrought into the fiber,

Prior, where narcissistic pathway architecture once lodged aloft,

Calloused acknowledgement of her duffel, abrupt pang, necessity for a prescriber,

My mettle is feeble of the soap opera, hanging one’s topper in my breath, I coughed,

The cauldron perpetually gurgling with spume, mingling itself,

Gyrating with giddiness as if my noggin was a top trinket,

No dust crumbs in any bustle ever jubilated atop my pit-a-patting instrument’s

Masses are anticipating for my enveloping blanket,

I perhaps beam till the cattle wham the timepiece, though seldom do I chuckle,

Shall journey with the ensuing waft, no comma for a buckle.

If war, you're telling me, is what makes a
man a man
and that you can dig out my insides and
replace the good with automatic unfeeling-
reprogrammed to see no shadows and no
gray just the blinding light of some lairs
justice winding my spring and setting me
marching to the rat-a-tat-tat of bugles bleating
and you can then see fit to wonder why I
might one day come apart as splintered wood
and scream banshee curses and beat on some innocent
flesh with nothing in my empty head but the
nightmare visions and devil's rewind and all the
pox of all the horror you have made me do and
see, the ****** beast you have made of me:
then mister I have to tell you I want no part of that

If war, you're telling me, is what makes a
man a man
and that staring into the flesh torn face
of the stranger you told me is my brother
as my hands claw frantically to wipe away
the blood that spurts greedily from his neck
ripped open by stray debris scattered uncaring
into the wind and that I am meant to hear as well,
hear his foul frothing lips as the weary white
of terror drifts across his eyes and he flops
terribly trying to offer just one more **** word into
this ugly world with the sky turning red above
the both of us and the smoke as thick as carnivals
then mister I have to tell you I want no part of that

If war, you're telling me, is what makes a
man a man
and that I should with echoing voice rejoice
seeing in flashing images of that ephemeral
gaudy green the distant explosions from oblivious
machines and with each shredding salvo should
whoop and holler and not dare think what those streets
must be like, or the limbs in the debris or the searing
heat of the fire as it spreads hungrily from building to
building (office to office, home to home, who knows)
a feeding frenzy that should seem unreal, on a busy night
for Azreal, but since it is something far away I am meant
to be glad for it, and exalt the far off victim's torment
then mister I have to tell you I want no part of that

If war, you're telling me, is what makes a
man a man
and that a man I have never met who had the
misfortune of being born in his country rather
than the misfortune of being born in mine is
my enemy, is my demon defiled, is my foe and
that coming face to face I shouldn't think of his
mother/father/sister/brother/lovers crying just
like mine must be, but should instead see only
the ignorant rage flush his face and feel the cold
knotting of insensible hatred inside my chest should throw
myself on him a dervish of murderous limbs and
mercilessly pound the very breath from him and
smile all the while for having done it with the blood
still splattered on my face like a criminal's Rorschach
then mister I have to tell you I want no part of that

If war is what makes a man a man then god be ****** if it
isn't what breaks a man too, and filling our heads with
tripe and flags and marching bands doesn't change
the fact that I would be made a monster and the stink
of gore and sorrow untold would never wash from
my hands but would follow me to the end of my days
and it would be the last thing my mind would see before the black,
the stench then buried with me in my grave would rise
above the close cut grass, me just one in an ever reaching
row of crosses all done up in white-
not red or black or blue or green or any ****
color you told us mattered, that you sent us to
our deaths under with those colors flapping ahead
of us in the wind and pounding their venom in
our ears no **** color at all just:
white.
Which is all the colors mister,
all of them at all at once in fact.

Mister, I'll have no part in that.

Hands shaking heart trembling words barely forming at the tip of her tongue barely moistened from the lack of attention she spent on creating the catch at the end of that match that didn't last because
it never does
The truth of the matter is that no matter how hard you try to chase after the realistic views of the depths of disaster the equation equates to an unchanging fate and we are left in a tie game of sudden death where rebirth is whats left and the steps to get there
find you
But I remind you,
Penitence is a virtue
and two cents are two cents spent regardless of whats kept
so he reminds her to sit with those emotional breaths and let the internal processors deal with the mess,
through silence
Through God Light
Through Identification of a program possibly created with human non-conscious involvement and needing to be reprogrammed to function at maximum potential in the world we live in now,
not when it was created
Through,
Silence

Everything is where its meant to be and if you've found me its through a non-visible but not non-existent telephone line of energy that I sparked, and you caught
Through a click of a 'mouse' or an afternoon browse or a general curiosity, I created at point A and through Eternal and Divine Alignment, you have *arrived, safely at your destination
Meet,
Point B


----With LOVE and GRATITUDE as your constant reminders that Within is Without and through the responsibility to SELF we shall prosper
<3

**HAPPY EVOLVING!

I have these parts that are missing
They are things I can't replace
I've been stripped of all my being and thrown into a world of waste

Reprogrammed to think my world is you
That the earth I walk on is blessed by you
The bonds I break are all for you
Loving you is all I do

I close my metallic eyes
Set in place by your hands
Laying on the carpet
With my back made of rubber bands
I cry too long and start to rust
Because I love you, you have my trust
It's why I became your killing machine
You don't love me, so it seems

When I was younger I used to think that all the cars on the highway were racing each other. I used to yell at my mom because we were driving so slow. I never wanted to lose. She usually shrugged off my request or simply ignored it entirely. Then I began to imagine that the highway wrapped completely around the world, and we could drive to China if we really wanted to. No one ever told me otherwise because I rarely shared my ideas with anyone. That was the thing about being a kid, I just totally gave up on asking adults questions because their answers were always lies they told just to get me to stop asking more questions. I think that's *******. I was so curious about this life that was forced upon me. I was so curious about everything. And no one ever took the time to correctly explain to me how our lake got it's name or where butterflies go when they die. No one ever told me how Santa could get into our apartment if we didn't have a chimney and no one dare mentioned why I absolutely had to drink a full glass of milk every night with dinner.

I used to be so conceited that I thought the moon would chase me around the earth when I was catching fire flies in jars. And no one told me that fire flies need air holes and some type of food source. No one told me jarring up nature is probably a bad idea. No one told me I was stealing the souls of innocent creatures.

And then one day, somehow, I blinked and all of my curiosity disappeared. Suddenly I knew that thunder didn't mean the sky was ripping open and lightening wasn't pure magic. One day the school ripped away all of my creativity and I was forced to think inside of this boring box. One day I was fed all of the truths I never really wanted to know. One day I was reprogrammed into accepting a life of poverty in a cubicle. One day all my dreams became replaced by rants about a corrupt government. One day I realized the moon wasn't following me and the stars never belonged in my palms.

One day I was told that my life would amount to nothing and all would be forgotten and our existence is completely unjustified. One day I learned that everything I've ever loved or hated will be crushed into oblivion, and if I have a soul no one has any idea where it will go when my body turns into worm food.

And one day all of my questions were stashed away in a box and I just stopped caring about everything.

And then I met you. And your eyes had all the stars I ever wanted. And they were mine. And suddenly everything made sense and the world became beautiful, even when it wasn't. And then your hand held mine and all that mattered to me was your happiness and how wide I could spread your smile. One day you said my name and my ears never bothered to listen to music again. One day I realized that our love was the personification of beauty and no one could ever take that away from us. And one day I realized that everything temporary is much more permanent than it seems and even if our children's children's children forget our names, the stars never will.

On our first date you held the door open and asked me 21 questions while I wondered what it's be like to kiss that perfect smile

Our fourth date I met your grandpa, you held my hand for two hours strait and I never wanted you to let go

On our seventh date you took me to the best Mexican restaurant in town. It was valentines day. I was nervous, and laughed at every word you said. That night you asked me to be yours, officially, and I took no time to hesitate saying yes. Everything is better now.

On our tenth date we laid in bed for hours. I told you my secret and I'll never forget those three words you said after you kissed me. I've never seen you cry, but tonight you shed a tear; and I think I fell inlove you.

On our fifteenth date we lay in bed watching movies we saw as kids. You held me close as I fell asleep. You smelled so lovely. Lazy days with you are more magnificent than all the stars in the sky.

On our sixteenth date you saw me cry for the first time. We talked for hours. Your wise words reprogrammed my thinking. "Find something to get you through everyday, and just live day by day." You told me things will be alright. I only believed the look in your eyes and the kiss you gave to my cheek.

On our twentieth date you poked out your lips and tried to kiss me, you held me down and rubbed your lips all over my face, I've never heard me laugh like that before. So happily, and uncontrollably. I love when you do that.

On what would have been our twenty fifth date you said it'd be best to go our own ways. Nothing was going how we thought, and things changed too quickly. You left that day.

Deviant sublimations , the reprogrammed sociopath is now running downhill , faster by the hour , tripping over the final stone then falling
forever ...

Civilisation turned us into barbarians,
Legislation turned fugitives into librarians,
Socialisation turned humanity into amphibians, cold hearted creatures looking for warmth and desire through a virtual reality,
Masked by calm, luring identities covering the cold-blooded repitilian behind it!
Religion promoted mass deception. Dividing humanity into seperate factions that blurred the internal and external vision,
I can no longer deny that this may have been a rogue mission!
To create a system,
When traced bears no roots but a stem
Layered with thick fabric, attempts to cut it down failed since time immemorial it still stands firm.
Those that tried where either incarcerated or completely obliterated.
They posed a threat, preached a word that resonated so deeply within the people's hearts the words they spoke and anyone who dared to lend an ear became enemies of the state their sentencing was extermination,
To avoid repitition other's weere reprogrammed, instituionalised through examination,
Examination that came through the form of education with the hopes or creating a new foundation with a new set of people born and bred through assimilation- a narcisstic repressing humanitarian tactic that stole true tradition by creating an ideal specimen contingent on colonisation.
If i search within me what my heart desires, what i yearn for and find out that this world cannot offer it, the only logical explanation is i was made for another world.
I still anticipate the day utopia will unfold
I will listen to the stories that have been untold
Enjoy my youth and inspire when i am old
Raise my sons to be Kings wise and bold
Continue the legacy that my ancestors foretold.

This array of calm is all but usual. The inner chaos has vanished,the storm has passed. Blossoming beautifully right before I'm caught picking up the pieces from travesty not tragedy! The marathon within,unquenchable,sour and debilitating followed by acres of sorrow. Medicated with despair,anguish and memories of deceit. Set on reset but never reprogrammed.

I,
the transponder,
the dot,
moving the signals.
receiving,
a spot in the air, sometimes here,
sometime there,
emitting,
cutting through silence,
the dot.
It's not what we are or where
and not that I'm bothered
if anyone cares,
I,
the transponder,
sometime like alltime
responsive,
the dot.
The program reprogrammed
initialised and so far so good,
knock on wood because a
bit of superstitious belief
can't hurt.

I panic at the thought of being alone
I found solace in a classroom
and even that was taken away
I get dizzy when I encounter my blood
though everyone says the bond is unconditional
I sit in the midst of those that say they love me
I weep and not one of them sees
I cry out and not one of them understands the pain in my shell of a heart
I try to be good but sometimes I can't control it
It all comes out- actions, words, thoughts, feelings
in a mess of emotion and release
A release that causes nothing but pain
I wish I could control my fate
I need control of something
The slight reprimands of actions not yet taken
Just instigate what shouldn't be started
I can't keep up to the future
I want to tear my heart in pieces
Hand one to everything that has a greater control
Over my blood than I do
And tell them all to do as they please
Mold a new heart from the old
Recycle the broken me into a machine
Because it's feelings and freedom of thought
That started this mess
My insecurities and weaknesses lead me to the brink
But a machine is monotone and cold and hard and
Frankly much more suited to the others
Than my blood-pumping heart is.
I want to stop living under the perception of control
Give everything up once and for all
Allow the gears to slip from my unwanted brain
Into the hands of the finest technician
Or perhaps the cheapest, as that would be what I deserve
Become reprogrammed to follow the whims of
Everything that controls my blood.

School was a pleasing dream
a world of wonder
in which I yearned
to get through the door
to the desk
to my graphite, with its #2
That scent of worn paper
and paste upon the wood
my place of reprieve
full of my passions like a
kid in a toy shop
a poor boy in a rich man's world
that was when school was
a neverending treasure trove
with golden coin upon coin
but then was suddenly halted by a hard brick wall
the word testing carved against the stones

3rd grade hit
and then my mind
began to bite their words
turning them to solid stone
as time passed on my thoughts degraded
till all was gray
and uniform
like a blonde child in a **** school
mind wiped and reprogrammed
forced to stay in line
scolded to sit still
throwing culture out the window
till only the standardized colors of a flag remained

Now I’m just a bibliophile
sitting atop a pile
with books and texts throughout the ages
heaped under my feet
but I can not make out their stories
For their pages are blackened
and their words blurred
like a rushing river of soiled ink
caused by cluttered shelves
in the library of my mind
that has been burned by torches
held by men and women in suits and ties
holding badges of authority
like my mind is a criminal
being investigated by the FBI

They tell me I should know
that it’s easy
1, 2, 3 go
but I can’t
they locked my door
once they began to teach their TEKS
my colors hid and got locked beneath
and now my mindsets stuck
with no hope for release
What was a rainbow
with it’s *** of golden words
Now resides a rusting locker
with chipping paint and faded words

The creative concepts once in my head
have been broken by just five letters
that changed my words to dull markings
and erased the color from my thoughts
like the page in a coloring book quickly erased
so the sky would be blue instead of magenta
because the sky can never be anything else but blue

Five letters that I thought defined who I was
that I was always worried to fail
A big red F peeking over my shoulder
Five letters that could destroy
thinking that they controlled my fate
three old ladies threatening with their scissors and thread
to cut a cord made of multiple choice answers
Five letters that could mean success
or doom

like a hazy brained plan to stop a war
that could only continue to grow worse as
each soldier fell while running through the minefield of society

But those five letters are just a tool
To add an extra grade
and a little more rules
Stamping labels upon our IQ
Taking away our peace and serenity
Angling our goals away from our own
Adding stress upon tentative minds
Redirecting our thoughts from right to left
so suddenly trees are plastic and
the alphabet only has letters A-H
and all we know are large cement buildings
instead of fields of flowers
My whole world in a pint sized room
with flowing waterfalls that burst from my imagination
obscured by bland walls and heavy doors
Colorful assemblies with
shushing giants making up a chorus
irony written on every poster of every wall
learn and you’ll pass
go to sleep and you’ll pass
eat healthy and you’ll pass
no need for imagination
no need for outside experience
just sit in that chair
and take that quiz
that test
that exam
that benchmark
We’ll have fun later in the year,
but that better not be your essay topic
and that story better not be fiction
And all the while I scream

I want color
I want the sky to be magenta
I want to use every word and phrase available to me
I want to soar as crane flying across a lake
I want to run like a track star to the the finish
Throw down the pencils
the printed paper
throw away the charts and empty messages on the walls
I want to run down the halls
and dance instead of sit
I want to sing instead of speak
I want to learn instead of being taught

But all I can do is sit
All I can do is write
All I can do is conform
So I won’t be thrown in the trash
like a piece of worthless junk
that still has a purpose
So i won’t be stuck in the same room for more than eighteen years
like a prison sentence for not knowing the laws of this country
So i won’t be left behind
like the homeless in the streets

School was a joy
Education was a treasure
But now is defiled
by one
small
packet of paper

Who am I?
Am I who I used to be?
Am I who I'll become?

I can say one thing for sure.
I'm not who I was.
I never used to have to cry myself to sleep before all this started.
I never used to have to talk myself down
When I just wanted it to end.
I never even wanted it to end.

That still leaves that open-ended question: Who am I?
I've lost myself.
I've not only lost myself,
I've lost everyone I ever loved.

Back to the questions.
Am I who you want me to be?
Am I who I want to be?
Am I just a machine to be reset and programmed,
Over and over again?


I've found myself.
I am an imprint of the pain
I inflicted upon myself by thinking these thoughts.
I am just a machine that doesn't think for itself.
To be reset and reprogrammed
Over and over again.

To all the beautifully flawed people of the world I love you

As we all link in the shadows being free

To all the insane irrationals...sanity drains out humanity & kills off the creative factors

It slip, tricks & dips the mind into a rational spectrum of life
Coating the fragile factor in the worlds perception of sadistic statistical madness.... Imagery of perfection

Then We Begin

Scale up, Size Down, Fill Up & Bow Down.... Lost & for told I seek to find pleasure in broken things

To work on mingle & connect with
Intertwine minds & comfort the darkness

Find beauty in the pain of a madman
Play with the shadows that bring light to bitter days

2:10 haunts once again
Same friend strokes again
2:10 the minds worst nightmare
Or the worlds best daydream..... Madness of a man
Madness of a woman

Souls of the forbearance
Vindictive capsules of emotion

The body is to be cherished
Yet the mind to be played?

Manipulated & cast off

Iron chains lock away the future
As the past slithers away

Venomous passion for the life once lived
Driving factor of life branded on the brain

No judgment placed
No judgment shamed

Friendly comforts
Malevolent characteristics building the perfect visionary of a soul mate.
Building stronger chains to keep that futures fate destined

Feeding & satisfying the pasts hunger

Still no judgment placed
No judgment shamed

2:10 my dear friend
Why must we fear?

Happiness whispered ear to ear

While the madness kiss my mind & The World Shaded My Vision

Reprogrammed I see a new

Revolutionary outputs

Madness soon threw the key
Setting my future free

As my past slithered back inside of me roaming freely ..... 2:10 This is what you do to me
-KBELL

I am a puppet
I make my master feel better
if I don’t she says I am broken
I am a robot
programmed to have one directive
and synthesized to feel only the emotions she sees fit
If I feel differently I have to be reprogrammed
I am straight
but when I feel sick of repressing myself I am immoral
and this means I must be doomed to hell
I was made to be a good christian girl
a girl who married well
a girl who raised a family
a girl who would go to college even if she didn’t use it
I was intended to be that girl
and when I say intended I don’t mean it was just a pleasant thought
Intended means this is what was forced onto me everyday
anything else got me punished
But the time is approaching when my warranty will expire
my strings will reach their breaking point
I will be able to fight
I can be my own master

Drowning man, is that a Tarot thing that means
anything I am authorized to say?
What do you say?

Do you want to play?
what would you play if you wished you could?

Drink cold water whenever I am thirsty,
just like that,
go to clear flowing water waiting
for me
to drink until my cup runs over with
merely redeemed idle words,
who claim the idle time
is where we make up
minds

money-love, bitter root, meet me in the thymus
gland,
explain the lust you feel for freedom from debt,

or is it
doubt,

nay, this is after that, catch up, ever
since
you remember this story beginning
with you
in it with these augmented minds
impressing
the mystery of iniquity in rational balance,

entheogenic sessions, checklist
-notes, maybe footnotes

14 day darkness retreat

Fasting can save your life
Sycamore Canyon is holy ground in my mind.
0

this teacher is a hell passer througher,
while I chose to passover
his version…

what one wants or wishes to learn
really is the focus to so tight a point wants
and wishes if those were prayer
are we where prayers are
answers before we are
prayers -- once
-- breathless no comma------
I wished to  know
everything, after all is said and done,
I prayed for wisdom and knowledge and

understanding comprehension upgrade

the myths are rising round us, child,
do not let them run wild,

we are thymus warriors not Spartans,
inner guardians of life in you,

and I, of course, in you and the speaker,
you hear, the writer you read…

be all you can me, seven seconds, be

aware we were ideas, then words,
then images in dances with our shadows

hidden knowers run from brother other
look around up and down,

the gaming generation can survive,
as you know,
their angels always behold the face of god.

You heard that right? Asreal as any angel ever,

the idea of spoken words witnessing the past
seeing
the was was with
the wu wu
words
wei beyond letters letting until they be

taken out of the way, and brought
to you, like a thread
you remember, a thread from the maze
of all things
working
together for good to those who love the
ineffably-named god who is the way
and the truth and the life,
in the true way of life, like a human being
after the augmentation

reboot. Ever after starts

and the microdosage of multiminding
disintegration
of the determined teller
from the Socratic liar boasting

baaaaaaa I know nothink!

too mani guru thingy thought thinking right
wrong
off on, bzzzz a c thisawaythatawaythisawaythatawayway

who do I think you are?
Reader. I think you are one of the many who
learned from one who learned from the longest
extant
strand of knowledge, the seed,
the oomphala egg,
right,

where we get the oomph to push throo-ugh,
confusion of tongues untame-able,
caint tame'm, break'em'whesperim,
interpretim
Ai.Hai
AI tame that, good as Tonto, good enough.
Good as Tobor, get this:

 Tobor is stolen by enemy agents, and only the two scientists' and Gadge's psychic link with the robot can save it from being reprogrammed and used for evil purposes against the United States.

From <https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/TobortheGreat>

psychic link with the AI master hub can save it from being reprogrammed and used for evil purposes against we,
the sentient sapien 2.11s.

All ye outs, in free, open enrolement,
find a role,
play it.

Asreal as any message on the wall.

Dear Work,
I love you, I loathe you.


You got my mind overloaded
Thoughts of you fill my head,
No room for anything else.

Hacked my life and you stole it;
Reprogrammed all my rules,
And guessed my passcodes, too!

And now
I can't act the same,
'Cause, Work, you're a bug I can't shake.
You're pushing my hard drive too far,
All my circuits will break.

Work, you are a dangerous game,
You are a dangerous game,
Why must do you?

You are a dangerous game,
Nothing can protect my brain
From a sadistic virus like you!

Getoutofmyhead!head!head!head!head!head!head!
Getoutofmyhea­d!head!head!head!head!head!head!
Getoutofmyhead!head!head!head!he­ad!head!head!
Getoutofmyhead!head!head!head!head!head!head!

You'­re too much of a good thing,
So good, you're bad for me;
Corrupts my memory.

Shocked my mainframe, yes you sting-
In my mind all lines of code
Are glitched up and going wrong.

Sorry for acting a little bit strange,
But now I must do you, whatever it takes,
You're pushing my hard drive too far,
All my circuits might break



If I can't attend to you,
I wouldn't, wouldn't attend to me either.
See "Play" around you.
I want to, want to, wanna just delete her
Sorry for acting a little bit strange
But now I must do you, whatever it takes

I love you,
I loathe you

The opioid battle droid
Children butchered
Homes destroyed
Can’t go back and face
His nation
State so full of hate
Can’t take it
Great again is just a saying
No amount of pity praying
Seems to stay each day decaying
PTSD noise parading
Medicating, mind grenading
Every step is compound raiding
Waiting for the pain to fade
But they just trade his life away
False promises, he’s led astray
To drone alone and aimlessly
Fight on these Clone Wars shamelessly  
In vein is he
More mech than man
Reprogrammed by
Afghanistan

Often
I  ponder

about the purpose
of dreams

and why the mind
isn't merely wiped clean

and reprogrammed
every night

when moonbeams
breach our windowpanes

and
kiss the skin

whit howland © 2020

We're burning each other on the roofs of our mouths
Too tired to shout,
I've been rewired and reprogrammed to chase dreams
And aim for the jugular when I teeth, speak or ****
But I got this thorn in my side in the shape of an angel,
Me, a sinner, never-ending self-inflationist with an ego problem and too much confidence for his wellbeing.
I'm hard of hearing when we're speaking ******* but your body screams louder than words,
though it's mostly verbs, if you catch my drift.
I'm pretty sick but not like coughing out my chest and stabbing a toddler for a pack of toilet paper
More like my head doesn't fit and all of the **** it's spewing seems imaginary
Don't let me get carried away here, I had a point I was trying to make
But saying I love you doesn't come easily to me in the case of my demons
They're breathing, skin and blood and bone and ringing phones with nobody home
You know I should be working but it's all that I do so lets take a moment with these words
And let them trace over your skin like fingernails and gentle tongues
Or **** it, we can get lost in the blood
Two animals clawing away any trace of their humanity
Flesh meets spirit, we let the world slip away
Into another hazy maze
With emotional highs and lows, though much more stable
We upgraded from that basic cable drama ****