Light , curvy rays,
bending,
while traveling from air to water world.
My eyelashes - window wipers.
Crystalline lenses,
sending lovely
but blurry pictures
wait.. let me focus my retina,
underwater dream,
or is it really you?

Dark, straight silhouettes,
frightening,
falling from the busy water above
My chest - darkened vents
reaching far,
wanting lovely,
but faint pictures
I can’t wait any longer,
for the dark room to lighten
I need you to show me

I take a deep breath
And dive in again.
Debrees of scars
And piercing pain.
Your soul still mauve and blue.
I press my lips
respiring pure love into you.

Breathe your best
into the spine of my life
Expelling fortitude
And forgiveness
Hidden in this deep blue
Revitalized for the first time
This moment opened its eyes
to see the beauty
of what beneath the surface lies

A cold October morning,
Treated just like the rest,
The boy awoke nauseous,
With a pain in his chest.

A longing for something,
Far out of his reach,
He settled for darkness,
Brushed red in between.

The pain became pale,
followed next by his skin,
Respiring so slowly,
The lights going dim.

Adrift into nothing,
What feels like a dream,
Is death coming slowly,
A dying brain's final feed.

"Is this what it feels like to be dead, I think I like this feeling"

Awoken abruptly,
Surrounded by fear,
Who are all these people,
and how'd he get here.

Looking up from his back,
A tear falls from her eye,
"Relieved" does her no justice,
For not having to say...

Goodbye..

From the very far dark, deep and beating black,
there’s ghost breath, and blue light after,
where I un-broke myself,
next morning.
I’m under, curled to a pupil
of the bed’s eye,
so I blink the dream out.

Asleep, plants are respiring,
and the loam of their dream
is lifting, thinner.
Then the real interrupts,
erupting as a day,
and shimmering back again.
Like the shore that shares it’s time
between sand and ocean.

A fully open cup
fills up in the moment,
wherein that infinite shrinks,
and the universe grows backwards,
backwards Into,
cold coffee and dog ends.

Strange that.
It's not a nocturne,
It's an echoe of a day,
It's a memory of a memory,
It's a remora on reality.

Strange that.
why when last night,
my ashtray was full of stars.
The clock infinitely deepens
the memory of the dream.

But it’s there,
only just there.
That maybe, perhaps, dreaming of us,
somewhere in the brightest time of the night,
somewhere in sleep,
in the inbetween spaces,
somewhere there,
we left ourselves in mermaid’s purses.

The good verb “conn”

supersedes nounsies that say much the same

they leave their mark
and their stain.


organelles are found in living cells

but bacteria is barely surviving -

gasping, respire, respiring

god will swallow death as sure as sheol

still,

the microbes must thrive

one sloppy, the other ill


a slender hand of steel

excites it,

like the splendor of redwood mounted on peach

a cleavage emerges  (causing a **** to swell)

increasing her capacity for desire

a seeker of truth now bound for duluth?

caught in an ice floe
preoccupied by the last degree

pulling shoals
of distance below,

the south pole is now our goal,

we land on land beyond sea

and space

where a wise man plays fool
to a young girl's angel face  -  

     as an aside: he likes her
     but she is not attracted to men or goys,

scattering the cremains
of
a nobody's boy
(a boy we tried to revive many a time)

into a river where the river never ends

he remains  

sinking into darkness,

adrift in a pit
of lips of labrum

down the chosen depths

of the frozen abyss of Tehom

Your Marilyn Monroe face is coating me in nostalgia.

There's old school Hollywood appeal about you that's keeping me still and set in my ways, because how could I be mobile looking at the iconic images of you?

For you gave me refuge from my purgatory, I'm stuck here in my bedroom, your scenes each carefully curated by Billy Wilder or God...

I've heard you're a dying breed but you're so full of life and charisma.

Oh, I know it's hopeless,
But it's been remastered time and again,
1080p being the latest format to get my heart racing,
Letting your DVD spin to the point of exhaustion.

It's very consequential and I'm still betting on this,
I can't take your word as gospel when I feel you in my ribs...

I'm painfully asthmatic and respiring on your sighs.

Jumped into river of sorrow. . Landed myself beside tomorrow. .island
consider this world a heaven for it is what we see. . . . . .
will be all that we all remember. . .
generations passing on and building music with our sounds. .
stringing out to another. . as endless it may be, there’s never intention to bother
like bodies, minds, and hearts stepping around. . .
Fusing into a subtle tune. . . ., that makes the sense of one. .
Where anything is but happy feeling no less then weight of ton. .
For in my time there was and is the only one. . lady life. . .

I am a circumstance that but is not understood. .
What you think of image i am being,
when question is simply happiness and my way of life. . .

What hell this riding ****. .
Mind your business,  loompampa head. .
Life's pleasant knowing it's part of it. .

You think I got time for some thirty minutes. .
Of course I do. .
Because life. . .  my pace. . . . is best to stay that way. . .

unpredictable but sound . . Strung to find and meet. . all recluse stuck on beat. . . .
Likewise no need repeat impartial worries. . .

i stand and choosing to be the way I am, for if to start someone's business. . aiding , I isn’t ******* relating. . . .
not part my life of worry to masses. . .except to aid it wordly. .
with my soul and **** humanity came close to killing. . . that’s why I’m on this mic spilling. . .
To put in perspective the best my eyes do see. . .
and how they see, im blessed, to train me so. . .to feel the feeling of life's every blow
I came to this place with measure of worries. . .toiling in stories. .
now I am recluse feeling no worries. . . .

Jumped into a river of sorrow. . . .landed myself on land of today. . . ai. . .******* no way. . .
For now it’s only place I’ll keep my feet planted to stay. . . . .even as many of you haters want me to sway

Some say ******* no way. . .always stepping in crowd. . . the otherway. . .
In my future.
clear and early where all is smiling faces. . .giving each other pure embraces. . . .
to some unrealistic. . .so as to why
Some mazza fuckas do is speak from darkest of corners. . .talking ****
to each other. . . .
like one to and from the other. . .
Remorsing to boring tempers. .All just wearing your pampers. . thinking
behid.

If this hits you so hard. . Let me know and I’ll find another way to start. . .
All you mazza fuckas do is creep from darkest of corners. . .
Tending to energy far over your heads. . .always speaking down on some others. .around you. . . .

But around me, stick until your out of your breath. .
Perhaps with some others, there’s the lack of conversing because their stuck in their heads. . .

I speak from the heart when I say to you so. . .
In reason you passing such energy is nothing woooo terrific. . .
stanky breath
I ******* don't hate it. . But rather not appreciate it. . .for with my stanky breath
i push with something rather then your patience. . .


with every nation involved. . . .
i solved the problem of me,
the passion in ration of me. .
Who i am in slightest of spirit. .as humanly possible

Who is you I see. .

No matter how you blink,
how you think,
how long it takes you to evoke the senses of you, . .
You are in my sights a beautiful star. .
together we can go far. . .
Even being afar. . .ill walk to you without my car. . .
From A to A, memory. . . . From A to M family, not that far. . . .
[After C Heaven Start]
Never the less, my hands across my breast. . .flat as flat iron. . .
.I am made of iron. . . .biches always blarring their sirens. . .for what reasons. . .respiring in deep ****. . .for the day it’s what they desiren’

Killing time with  cigarettes. . . .since I was 6. . .******* biches that made me start. . . .I wish life would just make you smell it’s ****. . . . .
And find the purest of heart. . . then dwelling in smells. . .from procreated hells. . . .

Earthen roads spring alive with berm-gardens,
Thistles, and animals’ connive,
A country road the blows the dust
Off the porch, so that it’s just
Us.
When the time comes
that we arrive to claim the hills over there,
Command honey evenings
I, the colt, you, the mare
Transformed by winds, raw from the pastoral
Over-there,
It gives to us the boundless open dome
Free to graze
Free to roam
Where we shall know finally what it’s like to be home.

The homes, they spring by diving arms
Growing strong and respiring clouds
Of coaly waste
That eat the clarity of austere farms
And every life of put-upon
Denature, contorted as the victim-fawn,
Bloating with guts the hue of oil
Strewn by a semi’, in two drawn
An image that takes some getting used to.

And yet, this is only natural to be one with the aluminum blood
That runs in the veins of pale concrete to its beating heart
A healthy babe born of predation
A community called Animosity,
Where a life affirmed is a life denied
Though it be a bridge ‘cross chasms to prosperity,
Hold it close,
For they are deep and one United States wide.

The entrails rot on the city face, spelling out
“Payment,” on the pavement, the street
Maggots reeking, thriving in carrion
Smiling as they urge me, of course
Carry on,
That all will be well in time.

My beautiful mare turns from the hills
Her eyes now glow cinereal
How wretched she stands my side
Her heart now a mirror for how mine feels:
Drawing on love, the general kind.
Such life of hers
Such of mine
Betoken a passion, in its turn, an ill
Then to two ridges, shorn by pure will,
And still we congeal two passions to fill it
‘Till a fibrillating heart beats the color
Of ****.

Remake the photocrapsh, you have it,
edit, make the moment be that moment

and we redo the steps, the dance
in the process of time come to pass…

Breathe, be a bit aware, the air,
that essential other than I, is there,

all around us, one gaseous natural
substance us and all the other actual
air breathers,
some in constant meditation,
seeking mediation between spirit and

truth that life tests if I can perceive,
the suffocation of a story, conceived
in side my suit of fingers and toes and
bones and blood and meat and sinyew.
--------


Worth any reader's taken time, to make up
for enticing any one to follow a child
in search of lost time, I'd say none taken, none
left to find
usefull, filling a certain vacuum uses fructus
we yoost to take as needed granted. As cheese
from butter blessed with a meaty rancid taste.

Pre-posed, as supposed, positioned
up, above your head, above our eyes looking
up, into the thinning air beyond the morning fog.

Hear a jet plane, and think that noise unignorable,
then remember not hearing it for days, in the desert.

The ignorability established, test if I missed a sense
shut down class, perhaps I am the audience,
in silent meditation becoming one in time difference,
my peace,
I give,
not as the material reality gives, or is the world,
not all the material reality gives?

Wondering wonderfullness, full double el full,

necessary respiring, reselecting next moment
to breathe, re-in-ex-aspir'tual inter mingling me

and thee, the e, in all out joint efforting t'i
to fructify and die to leave seed soil cannot
suffocate.

Suffer it to be so now, thinking imagined touch,
the breath you take and replace with modified air,
humanized winds waft away the stench of our city,

our only physical existence place time sequence,
relative to mysteries too esoteric, by reputation,

if one never learns to use the good, to make good
a hope, a hook, with mystery, a sur-prize, un earned,

posed to be essential experience, once, for you alone,
the prize of personal recoknowsis acknowledged,

it's your party,
you can cry if you want to, but the art involved's
below you now,

as we took your breath away.
-------------

Fun with functionality, feeling your wish
to feel included, fecundity of same sour dough
higher minds than mine let be in thee
some how sure your part's done,
passed, missed cue, or
not.
The entertained remain, unaware… only knowing

the show must go on, and on,
and people,
on the whole, be having life
in the midst of life supporting

reality, recogentle, wise
teach
as trees teach, learn as nuts do. One
touch, one mind, one time to grow old in…

----------------

The daily ef'
fort ification va
vacation
cancelation …
looking away
at you, I think, at you,
I aim a wish, a joyish wish
wisht at a once,

upon which all stories dangle,
awaiting your attention, caught.

In the spirit of honesty, snared,
are we honestly acting strangely
similar,
similar tastes acquired, tasting
-----------

Echo rock effect stone groaning
-digital echo effect edit if you care, imagine
Peculiar order
own self first idiom, I am
become first ideal me, being
as good as
my word, and nothing more
esoteric than a reading mind's
recollection of a beauty envisaged

as an instant too brief to measure,
¿
instance,
in contextuality
stopped, and sensed
as a fly-by why, loosed for use
in curious arts, acadamized, apt
to wink at reasons feeding war,
to prove worthiness, what rule
gives order authorship legality,

in the scattered cosmos, who
orders each star to form from
?-
Point potential pose- d
to be
energy, itself mysterious, as to d
source and precognitionation put to work
as the works of God, the creator spirit entity,
put dhe PIE- put'erthere, core cognizance
in me, my child reminds me, for the duration.
Go is an order not a game.
Dare blame the temple servants, dare
cast aspersions at the spirit speaking,

gibberish, you wisht was peculiar, your query
run with your parameters set,
so your query
pulls from the spirit of timeless truth, a quest,
a duty,
a call to you, personally fit for your benefit,

maleficence despised sufficiently
to pass as white noise under signal. Go.

----------

generic me, reacting temper-mentally,
- getting to the crescendo way on
- down the line

to form a personality, a person like me,
emotionally tied to my character, my role

in your life, I see,
the other in the air out there, at the other
end of this wind

breath of life itself, certainly not all mine,
but I did add a touch of exhalent chaos,
in a laugh,
at recognition,
gnosis lies esoteric more within,
adipisci as if adept apt
at marking old regions lost to religion
- parrot headed afternoon paradisiacal
intentional, estate realization, holy place keeper,
mental, fundaments
minimum augments
happy old form gaseous wedom form,

beholder of beauty shown to set the meme,
look into my eyes, think mere words make minds

adversarial, as proverbial order impositioning,

in your brain, the ***** holding your will, if you
will, imagine another mind, with a habit in effect,

set to alarm me, when you see
the back of my head, and I do not turn to see you,

there you are any way, any in the official plethora
of thinkable ways around the obstacle
ambition definitely a needed virtue,
the will to know there is a good way,
the will to not steal, **** or destroy to make it
true
work applying patient perfection
to your tasked self, assigned early on to pursue, this bit
bait, curious bait, as scentual instunk ready, ready
ambitious ends means in minds, imagined done
is good as done,
Jesus said…

Two or more, you and me, endlessly
actual mental agreement, gentle, peacish
way beyond groovin', we be entering coknowing

eaching out, under our stars, we all know
what they are, they are near enough to feel

we each get this one big judgement day win, once…

ready to rock on, sit in witness position, watching
time pass, feeling memories sprout recollected laughs,
take the time, use your own, it never matters

looking back, from your self awareness instant, slo-most,

snap shot scene manurable, yep, gnoshit, that smell,

bucolic, fancy pants word, for real live process smell,
earth in cogitation, using a cast of billions of cloven hoof,
cud chewers fit to a stall and a milk ******* giant calf,

holy cow, each cow contentedly cogitates, how holy
am I to live in constant motherly bliss, and no
bogus science to make me feel lowly, mere meat maker,

for the sausage eaters needed to clean the windows,
so we all can look in on each other and say hello, did

you know this reality was here,
did you appear on purpose, or were you pre
supposed to be, so be ye do be.
Done.
Or don't, being as how here you are.

The end.
Now we wait. The point being made, when we feel it

really realizably so real holy cow, wow, milch for minds,
blowing past reasons for war, what would a holy city do?

----------------
Make a milkshake and use raw eggs.
Don't die.
Here, contemplation, using your knowing to construct
a shelter for a spirit,
a heart shrine, in memorium,
an avatar, that's the word, now, image made in mind,
non projected, kept bound under covering rules, why,

Gorgons are adapting to our air, as we all imagine
monstorous men leading conspiracies, breathing in teams,

fighting like hell to push back the peace cannabis brings
the furrowed fretful brow, high, low or middle, now,
- pushing back opening cannabinoid reception link
- thinking we all tuned in, is not true,
- the sixties I dropped out of,
- some boomers lived in, to this very day.

we all imagine the excess success allows, and the weight,
we all imagine the schedule, and the cameras, and think,

what, me worry? Will you take the esoterica to task, you

imagine life reset
to win the reasoning contentiousness,
with defined ambits being wills used
to lieve be the truth that Jesus said if
he is, believe it or not, leave go you know, if it were not so,

truth itself wills you know… you asked

let thy will be done, mine, I hold in place, conserving
certain truths fed me as a child, pledged in aliegiance.

Some values from when this world was lit by fire,
some of those eternal flames, never let it go out,
lessons used to arrange children on the pyramid,

few were told by their granddaddies
to laugh ten times today, and take
the long way around the mountains, find a stream
and keep its pace, time through space at any speed,

mellow is mental, mind frames are, as well. We think
we see the world one way, but we see it always good,

inherently good, inside the air we breathe and have
our being in, mind and brain barriers imagined,
fallen
long before the reasons for the ritual, right structur-al
to form as a temple made not by hand in mental form

living stones, I presume, am I standing on your toes?
Redone dances long left go be a fantasy from the cave wall.

- tips in times of self rejection, madness of art
devoted sons, once taken to an alter by a broken father,

God, take him, I'll break him, I'll make him like me,
don't let that be thy will, I'll walk with this limp,

but I'll not lie and claim Jacob's well ran dry.

The sack of values a poor man uses to stay alive, sur-
realize reason for being fine with sufficient suffering,

enough, to let me know, it is part of the process of time,
as recorded to be remembered, once
a prophet told you to pay attention, and as it appears,
to me, from here, my entire wedom did,

pay attention, with passionate joy, no lie, not even
to get by,
get past the poison
through the gifted, take life as granted found in a
willingness to whistle while you work, like a little tea ***,

here's my handle,
here's my spout,
tip me over and pour me out… do recall, do, once, redoness

dance on rare either real or otherwise, riverdancing ductility,

until I run out of breath.
And rest.
Riverwise on the seaside, going down.

When you get old life is as complicated as can be…
so- I fforget some things.
So, they had a saying, in the early day of open nicotine and caffeine,

put that in your pipe, and smoke it. Just let be the function. Peace
happens, seemingly by chance, often in Septembers,

made intentionally memorable for a good reason. We smile,
inner chuckle counts for laughing.
"Surely Feynman was not joking"

Let that be a lesson in legalizing enjoyed ennui, put to good use.

Fall into love,
like the waves on the sand.
The land and the sea,
our tides hand in hand.

Breath life into living,
respiring the seasons.
Be like the sun,
shine needing no reasons.

Recall friendly memories,
and laugh in despair.
A world with no smile
has no pride left to bare.

Heart-Pounding,
Beating out of my chest even.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Lips Quivering,
Teeth lightly nibbling the inner lining of my mouth.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Clouded Vision,
Constant tears dripping down my cheek.
Deep breath in, deep breath up.

Hands Trembling,
Objects easily slipping from my grasp.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Unruly Speech,
Unwanted whispers rolling off my tongue.
Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Limited Oxygen,
Panting heavily in a struggle for air.
Deep breath…

Wait.

Stop.

Think.

Why must we always take a breath?
Why must we be forced to push away our emotions,
Masking them with the habitual action of meditative respiring?
Why must we always breathe in, breathe out?

But are we really disguising our emotions?

Are we not just calming the soul,
Clearing the mind of unwanted thoughts and anxieties?
Are we not just providing ourselves with healing,
Alleviation from the painful memories engulfing the mind?

Yes.

Yes, we are.

So…

Deep breath in, deep breath out,
Quiet the pounding of your heart.

Deep breath in, deep breath out,
Tranquilize the tremulousness of your lips.

Deep breath in, deep breath out,
Stop the flow of your once never ending stream of tears.

Deep breath in, deep breath out,
Relax the overactivity of your limbs.

Deep breath in, deep breath out,
Replace your anxious whispers with peaceful meditations.

Deep breath in, deep breath out,
Rectify your oxygen flow.

Don’t mask your emotions,
Regulate your responsiveness.
Evaluate your situation.
Intelligently weigh your decisions.
Dominate your way of thinking.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

It works.

I promise.

respiring corridors
   interior hospital night

outside
                silenced
                         ­         the winter
away facing
                       patient pacing

    in palliative care
for the age-ed out expiring
     iterations of ejecting death
       darkly dressed haggy wet breaths
        beds engaged
          berths of great ferment

corridor ; raked in
corridor ; ridden out squalling

a patient who has yet to reach
   the concluding condition of his fellows
bellows
   'Shut The **** Up'
mad for sleep
he's lost compassion

The corridor labours on

If Pablo Picasso's name doesn't ring a bell, it is indeed a rarity,
Welcome to Malaga, Picasso's birthplace - an unique identity,
Known for his exquisite paintings & sculptures, Picasso is a legend,
That his work is still considered sensational, need not be questioned

As Costa del Sol's capital, Malaga in Spain's Andalusia is a vibrant coastal city,
Lying along a wide bay of the Mediterranean Sea, it constantly bustles with activity,
Excellent weather all-year round, renders it an idyllic tourist haven,
It's mountain geography and sun-drenched beaches - delight for a travel maven

The city is replete with a profusion of museums, daring street art and eateries,
Add to it, centuries-old heritage and beaches, that always hold pleasant memories,
Delightful pedestrianized centers and stunning views add to the city's intrigue,
Casual strolls to several picturesque locales hardly gives room for any fatigue

The hilltop Arab palace fortress of Alcazaba provides panoramic sweeping sea views,
Roman marble pillars & Moorish horseshoe arches add to stunning architectural hues,
The once coastal-facing defense of Plaza de Armas now features beautiful gardens,
Evocative vast courtyards & bubbling fountains yield a pathway that seldom straightens

A Picasso museum visit is unmissable on the itinerary for anyone visiting Malaga,
The stamp of conceptual brilliance seen in the exhibits makes art lovers go gaga,
The manner in which cubism art has been displayed is thoughtfully amazing,
Picasso's  genius is reflected in his works and was perhaps his way of proclaiming

The majestic Cathedral de Malaga is situated right in the historic town's center,
A blend of Gothic, Renaissance & Baroque architectural styles adds to the splendor,
The grand marble staircase and a beautiful assortment of frescoes are a visual treat,
The vast colonaded nave, housing an enormous cedar-wood choir stall, is no mean feat

The Carmen Thyssen Museum is located in an aesthetically renovated 16th-century palace,
It features an unique cocktail of paintings with thematic variations, not in the least hapless,
The almost cartoonish costumbrismo paintings are a throwback to 19th-century Spain myths,
That depicted fiestas, banditry, flamenco, bar-room brawls as if 'twas the work of a jokesmith!

Beaches in Malaga are characterized by dark, long stretches of sand skirted by lofty palm trees,
With boarded promenades, shorefronts are adorned with colorful parasols, wafting in the breeze,
Visitors swarming the beaches can be seen lazing in hammocks while basking in the sunshine,
Having all the trappings of a sunbather's paradise, that can be seen along the entire coastline

Ever experienced walking along a walkway dangling up to 100 meters in the air?
Its Caminito del Rey, pinned along the steep hills of a narrow gorge - indeed rare,
Parts of the route clinging recklessly to the sheer rock face of the gorge are awe-inspiring,
While completely safe, the linear 8-km walk can cause vertigo and culminate in respiring

This walkway was once dubbed the most dangerous hike in Spain - yet, so far from reality,
Multi-layered landscapes encompass reservoirs, mountains, gorges & valleys in totality,
The accompanying guide regales trekkers with the canyon's fascinating history and folklore,
While numerous selfie-worthy clicks of the breath-taking dizzy views, are like never before

Malaga is centric for day trips to Tangier, Morocco and The Rock of Gibraltar,
It is one of the few European cities that experiences a relatively warm winter,
It's coastal location with the Mediterranean Sea wind makes summer less oppressive,
Loaded with history and a multi-layered past, is what makes the city so impressive

Malaga is a typical port city that epitomizes Andalusian lifestyle to the fullest,
The warmth and camaraderie displayed by locals can be experienced at its best,
Streets and by-lanes are always pleasantly crowded with folks in colorful attire,
A wholesome feeling of utmost satisfaction at the trip's end, is for all to aspire

A citizen can't *** (or micturate ) his way to the top (or apex), nor **** his way up (north) from the bottom (south) without making a mess. When your restaurant turns Mexican (or greaser) don't blame the Italians (or guineas, or greasers) as their bend (or perspicuity) is sound hedging what doesn't entail (or necessitate) curtailing the issuance of fiat (or devoid of intrinsic value) currency in crusades (or campaigns) financial (or economical).

Emulsify​ my fragments with yours
We become puree
Our mixture is pliable and capable of smoothing any blemish

A false sense of durability, like layers of plaster over diminishing foundations

A stern wind sends us to chattering and reduces us to shards

An upside-down jigsaw with so many pieces who's interlocking combinations are infinite and impossible

We beset upon this futile quest with reckless abandoned
Punitive passions emblaze our cornea and deafen our cochlea

These inflictions only intensify our other​ detection receptors
Emboldening our synapses with astroglia most hearty and foolish

In the face of self-imposed adversities; the chortling consumes us
Mole hills spur and contort; vertically and violently
Titanic crags obstructing our path and encumbering our better natures
Yet the giggling continues

Brave men will face death without question, but only those who have tasted oblivion jest at it's expense
When you feast on everything and nothing, imagination and fear are savorless against your palate

Sordid sentinels
Mechanisms, blueprinted in hedonism and swill
Completely ****** by design

We are the crusty plaque in the corners of each others lips
The coke-like residue that accumulates from the burning depletion of our crude resolve

Exhaustion smogs our atmosphere and silts your dermis
The granulation makes you coarse and curt
You find friction in all things
There is no refuge for relief
Even afloat amongst the stellar ylem, the invasive abrasion intercepts your drift

Nothing is sacred!
Nothing is truly yours!

Your inter-most thoughts scream from the windows of their cells

You have been divulged and further more, made completely bare
A sort of ****** where opinions can be made on the hue of your skeletal system
Stark and helpless; sprawled wide
Revealing every tiny nook of your crevices, giving breath and larynx to your insecurities

A vivisection

The young men and women gather around the respiring corpse
Every deffect will oust it's cause
A foreign recollection of your story
Quivering and flinching under the pressure of a razor thin plane

Blankly, they stare like bipedal bovine
Sweetness and sorrow is wasted on them
They only seek silence for the deft and ******* for the blind

Now! both have been provided!

I am, as a thinking, word using muser,
of less
or more weight
in word's worth
on balance,
a day lived, doing nothing, but respiring
and desiring a joy use, as joy making use,
of me.
What's that worth
in time?

Time taken,
as granted, mine
to make use of, true,
any use I wish, after all,
all I've done
tripping old tale snares.
Recoding NANDs just
in case we need a second
reassurance this is the way
to enter
in to the peace past understanding creation,
the mindform used
to tell whole truth, sworn
to tell, circumstantially, as happening
to be led
to leave oaths being,
once sworn, sworn forever, and not like
happens only in movies, everytime,
once, regarding a quantum
of original thought,
rethought,
from first stories
of language, lingual word sage
tongue use, local mimicing ****** speech,
shibbolethargic sibblicity
barring outsiders
from making sense, save when
we all use our bodies to talk, say,
what we feel about the truth, the worth
of a straight
against a full-house, in a game of liar pride.

The winner calls the bluff,
or never shows her hand.

And all those free from guile, go on dancing.

A spider weaves its web
around the blossoming bud.
And there under the white ash petals,
respiring in the sweet acidic pungent
smell of the guava leaves,
the spider hides in its opulent abode.
I simply stand there jealous.
I wonder if the spider senses this.

And the cloud is formed
The sky halfway is dark
And the blue to the half
Nothing on but air blow
Passing through the lane
And the plants breath in
Giving oxygen on earth,
And all living will respire
The way I am respiring
When I breathe the air.
And l look over, on the sky.
It's your name on the cloud

I have a wish not to breathe
cease the toil of hanging on
allow air to fully escape
the vessels providing oxygen

promoting another minute alive
an excuse to linger here
far beyond the desired time
longed for by my broken will

existing beyond the stolid mask
what's revealed is a farce
an effort pressed to conceal
the hall of screams inside my head

where these corridors are confused
the up you see is my down
all the color has been removed
when dreams of doom are pursued

viewing strangers too soon expired
fantasies spring from envy's roots
why they could find what I seek
beyond the realm of respiring's bliss

that apparent joy to be alive
escapes my grasp as I exhale
biding time as ambitions lurk
no longer wishing breath again.

© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20180629.

As a sickly enthusiast of hemophilia I read ****** Bleeders' Digest while ****-breakers, below the lumbar, take joy in a hard spine bent
Take a city bus man's holiday from respiring and you won't become hypoxical, no more so than bishops do who shun nuns orthodoxical

The timepieces died last
Ahead the walls of crumbling hope
Translators were looking for
Bullet holes in nurseries

People filled suitcases
Dialing emergency numbers, bolting
Locks and doors
Belongings remained

*

Masses walking through cities in
Processions of velvet
Sobbing in chorus
Eyes blinking wearily

Nights they got to the
Steelblue and silent ocean
Lightly it lay before the
Respiring masses

*

They were holding their breath
As a luster was emerging
Nobody had ever seen
This luster

The masses stretched widely
Their fingers bent and
Cold for the luster
Like moths into the light

*

The masses were catching fire
Faces ablazed
Bodies turning from yellow
Skins into heaps of ash

Thus the exodus came to an end.
Heat was flickering in the sea
Deathgrey vultures circling
Through the air of black acid.

Take a city bus man's holiday from respiring and you won't become hypoxical, no more so than bishops do who shun nuns orthodoxical
It is moon-shine that blows through wino queer cops dipsomaniacal
in the depths of Hogville, Pig Town & **** City's toilets unreliable