the god that IS and the god that CAN BE KNOWN 

are not the same entity as far as i can ponder

the air reeks of transformation

hammers aren't striking to harm, but to shape

Sunshine Calcified

I care about you more than I care about them

sorry for the pressure, endless effort in our endeavors

it makes this all harder when needs go unmet, i melt-

down into a puddle of trouble, anxiety bursting like a bubble

maybe we could figure it out, but I cant get on your level

empathetic and intrigued 

and still there's something in the way

of us seeing eye to eye 

I wish my heart were smarter, but here it is in my hands

I gotta take some time to scrub it so I can love it

And now it seems like he's forgotten your face 

so I can't stick around long in this place

4:00 AM Forever

I feel that I am standing at a precipice of understanding and action

unharvested correlations are beige yet they glimmer in the periphery 

a request from beyond to "worship your gods"

the repeating glint of of excellence in the moments of disassociation just beyond the eyelid

mind ever-questioning, honing and indexing a variety of abstractions

always, we plead you to ignore the crystallization of the will as you stare into the abyss

i know, its hard to make it past these tedious dead-ends and misfires and emotional crises 

but you're carrying around a metric fuck-ton of potential thought, and you must take care

the pattern, though ubiquitous in retrospect, will only taunt your actions if approached

sometimes adorned in a prison of flesh, others found to be quite feline and energetic to boot 

crippling anxiety shifts into luxuriating gluttony, spite into wit, sighs into laughter

downtime downtime downtime, it takes so much fucking time to reset these puzzles

viscously recalling clouds of insignificant pestering memories espousing the awkward way that I...

I think I should try a different approach moving forward, but what? How? How do I?

What even am I? Another ripple in the sludge of some epistemological reverie?

Or does this perception share more than just a flavor with the Great Beyond Whatever-the-Fuck?

Shouldn't the mission be at the forefront for once?!

Into the wind shouting "No" and fucking meaning it, this might become now

Banjo String

well i really should have left 

my brain just refuses to accept how low i am on your hierarchy of concerns

you use and take and ignore and fester in self-loathing

and I'd like to be better than that

thank you for showing me the wrong way

so that i might find a path more suited to the life I'd like to build

and the final emblem of how wrong my choice to stay was:

a broken masculinity 

in a way that would be better left in nightmares

Where patience (with the self, with the universe's chaotic timing) meets preparation (learning, hitting walls, exploring and maintaining helpful rituals) is the place that deep perspective awaits me, cuddled into a tight ball at the bosom of what I'm becoming next.

 I am on top of it and looking down, 

pulled apart and holding it together, 

finding inner power that might burn the weakened hands.

This YES reverberates with a sickening thud 

against the once sturdy walls I built to hide within.

Let. Me. Out. it screams against howling winds, 

no longer sallowed beneath the wicked lies of false contention.

Domination at any cost is the message, 

and it's sending in strength.

Sunbeam

i saw something 

that i cannot deny

i watched it with my very own eyes

you glowed with a light

that spoke to me in symbols

god poured out from every place 

your visage filled my gaze

i was hopeless to comprehend

everything all at once 

i could feel it filling me

teaching me with signs 

showing me time beyond my own

a future home, a way to know

one thousand voices rose

to meet us here

as the sun cleared away

morning fog

from waters touch

angels witness to our embrace

clinging steam

shining hands

nimbus clouds as crowns

while we drank each other in

To You - Andy Shauf

Jeremy can we talk a minute?

I've got some things that I need to
Get off of my chest

I know that we have had a few
And it's far too late
But if I wait I might never tell you

Can we find somewhere quiet?
Let's go outside
I've got some smokes if you've got a light

It's just that sometimes when I'm by your side
It feels so right
It feels like nothing could go wrong

Does it ever
Feel like that to you?
Does it ever
Feel like that to you?

Oh I don't know what I mean
It sounded wrong and I'm just tired
Not being weird

I just mean that you're a good friend
It's hard to explain
Just forget I said anything

Get over yourself
I'm not in love with you
It just came out all wrong

Yeah
Tell the guys and laugh it up
Why am I even surprised?

That it never
Feels like that to you
That it never
Feels like that to you
I guess it never
Feels like that to you
I guess it never
Feels like that to you

- Andy Shauf

things are getting stranger now

cant you feel it?

as though we're standing on the edge of the absurd

there's a resonance

aren't you listening?

just behind these eyes you'll find an oracle

realigned 

and hopeful

precious beyond all compare

we are learning, 

growing ever closer 

to finding the next way in 

My little Sunbeam, when you are near my skin feels warm and the day seems long

unseen

edging tears

but he wont give in, hurts too much to cry

obsession is momentum, 

his sweet little darkest muse 

is it worth the abuse?

is it worth every peak for the valleys below 

oh how could he know?

oh how could it stay

this much bleaker every day 

if the time might slip away 

until its all resolved 

she could haunt each waking hour 

in such memories empowered 

by some unseen fucked up force 

that pulls at his chest 

when he's missing her to death 

now it flows out through the leak 

as the memories return 

every single time it burns, 

it sings too loudly in his ear

tries to harness all the sore 

from his huddle on the floor 

yet it prods and pokes anew 

each new second as it stews 

mind returns to pick the scab 

its all sitting lopsided

as the soul reaches to hold 

only empty air, and he'll stay waiting here

Mysterious Tower in the Forest

wizened elder of the arts 

a flow to catch, a song to start 

for merrily the craftsman builds 

awakening his tactile will

an invocation leaves his lips, 

a subtle sign with fingertips

a delve combines capacity, 

a challenged wit, veracity

new sigils breached, inspired grasp

soothes conjured will towards plann'ed task

when space is time and black glows white 

where air hangs heavy with delight

what finds the spirits called for sight,

awaiting passage into night

his cracked, contorting ancient frame

engaged with spectral dancing flame

known as above so found below

like flicker'ing light's true source unknown

 

 magic has to be real

fuckin a 

it just has to be

~

maybe this one is bunked

but next time i'll be free

 leave it alone

time travels

 just a few hours back 

i wish thats where we could go

back when we sat in the glow

city lights stretched out into the sky

and everything somehow felt alright

no tilted scales or blaming eyes 

catching glances of your thighs

after such a gentle caress 

its fucked where it all ended up

with a taste of crow 

and its all gone to hell

one step forward 

one fall to the ground

we leave things in disrepair

to sleep it off so it feels less profound

The ol' S & P

 "Give it space and patience" is something I often offer as advice when people close to me have conflict with each other. An advisement of approaching a situation with a clear(er) head and not rushing towards an insufficient or haphazard solution. 

Having recently had some pretty awful-feeling conflict with a loved one myself, its time to take my own advice. 

I don't want try to overthink my way to the illusion that I can fix it all, cause I dont have any idea if i can fix a damn thing in this situation... but i do see one path ahead that seems reasonable and achievable: "Give it space and patience"

locket

dancing into view

like fourth dimensional poetry 

bright eyes beaming 

as though a dream i haven't had yet just followed me into the room 

sweetness on a swivel 

our congregation keels in a pirouette 

toppling over and into the movement; 

impossible agility that I'm trying to crystallize into memories to keep

our roots entwine, matching symbols deciphering synthesis

i am dreaming i can keep this story 

held closely to my breast, 

feeding it ambrosia so we might once again cavort within my mind

it all feels a bit unwieldy 

for i've lost and gained vast significance in too few blinks of the eye

though hope might find a spectrum 

that would glow before my sight

we were raucous and 

we were golden and

though we twisted away,

my thoughts return

vessel shadowed

Hollow me to what does not serve my deity, my sweet succulence: my glorious Inspirations.

I must keep myself sustained and whole, while keeping my heart vulnerable and blasting hot fire. There is no other way, if even this.

Goodbye my loves outside and in, for I must hide away from you so that I might be found by the light that you've been blocking.

After and under it all 

I am a beam of light 

Hurtling through space 

Spreading mirth and luminance 

why must i pile so many other things on top of that? These selfish, twisted hopes and fears; they plague me. 

Before and over it all 

You are always at my side 

In my mind's eye 

Spreading out into the expanse 

if only we could live in the palace that my desires might build for our comfort and exuberance. We could have everything at once, to spite the boundaries who pretend that you are there and I am here.

A part of me is already out there scanning the cosmos 

As they dance by, so filled with potential 

Our gospels calling out in chords of spectral enthusiasm: 

"Come dance the way that always was."

moth to flame

always distracted 

as though it is instinct alone that guides your flight 

the light in the distance 

is your master until it fades 

I'm calling out for a cleansing 

coated in fear and excess 

connection standing on its head 

inversion and perversion swirling 

i miss the way things were before yesterday 

butting heads and screeching internal alarms 

convulsions and empty validation 

what a fucking witches brew 

that stains the lips and rots the gut 

Face I Spotted

That look

Curious warmth

She's glowing

At him

Tensing chest

heart aflutter

losing focus

zoning out

Curious warmth

cautious expectations

heart aflutter

look away

The Button

 Alone is the only home I've ever known.

The others just don't make sense to me, 

though I'm drawn to their confusing ways.

~

I envision a panel with countless buttons

that could take me anywhere and even everywhere;

among them is the object of my attention, 

drawn instinctively to it by forces that seem to spring out of my core.

That big, juicy, forbidden red button all on its own

that is simply labelled, "NOWHERE."

Oh how I've pined after its embrace, 

praying that my caress could find it warm and willing.

Take me away, 

my dearest button, 

out of this reality 

but not into another.

~

This is one of my earliest memories, 

wishing for a button that could erase me from existence. 

Long before I knew the thrill of intimacy 

or the exhilaration of conquest, 

all I knew was the profound desire to blink away 

out into nothing.

blister the surface 

feral canyon 

convex socket 

wash the wound in ocean water 

shelter burning 

somewhere else 

endless road

bosco

It was a tall, wide evening spent sitting ever alone staring at my external mind, just like most days. The damn thing was busy displaying some random Youtube video on one screen with a video editing program on the other, and i was unfocused on either, adrift in thinking about them... 

the them being the nebulous group of friends I had been seeing more frequently throughout much of the last year, huddling together with them at the Trescony St house avoiding the tension of the pandemic by suckling down a continuous stream of inebriants. they were all somewhere that i was not, here with no one to witness my wandering mind taking me deeper and deeper down the path towards longing and unrequited loves (both real and imagined). 

"I can't take this anymore," I exhaled as my thoughts circled around the pool of loneliness that decorated the yard within. 

I am imagining this being read aloud in their voices as I write, a distractingly farfetched yet romantic notion. Even as I write about our distance, they are right here with me.

In rare form, I bolted up to put on shoes and warmth and head out the door on foot into this lazy suburb of Santa Cruz. My obesity can be both the cause and result of my general laziness and yet here I was, heart beating and steps quickening down the street in an effort to clear my head.

The sky had lost its colors, drunk away by the infinite blackness beyond the façade of daylight. I was lost in my mind as its waves crashed and boiled against the confusion of this aching heart.

As the brain chemicals started to realign and lighten from this mild exertion, I spoke into my phone:

"I am bathing in contradiction. My dance with the concept of rejection seems constant and bitter, but I so often push others away either because they make me uncomfortable, or in search of insulating myself from rejection. It's getting harder and harder to even tell  what my truth is. What do I want? what is feasible for me as i move along? Over time my emotions have dulled and lost saturation, leaving in their midst the cold, dark, hollow pit of blackness. Misunderstandings. Despair... and of course this damn anxiety that dogs me so."

she makes my heart sing

love is sticky and wet 

it clings to my skin even after I scrub and scrub

if only reason could save me 

~

i am under it now, 

left out rotting in the sun. 

I cast shadows

giving an ant just a moment to cool down before its back to work

taking me away in pieces

it feels so done

like i cant move

~

light jumping crystalline gateways 

merging at a million miles per second 

inside my chest when you help me feel not so alone 

Scorpion Tattoo

Scorpion's reminder calls out from where I left him; 

with that overinflated heart that likes to burst under the pressure.

Shall we wiggle and writhe in pain or ecstasy?

Another invocation of spiritual amalgamation falls out of tune 

and is left to undulate and hum in a box left in this overstuffed closet.

Feeling wanted seems to hydrate the ego 

but our cup is filled with sand 

and our minds have turned to dust.

Processing my anger over something small that feels enormous:

I will never understand.

I was just told to my very own face that because of the color of my skin I do not deserve to be credited in a recording project for my work, because the project was "about black voices and experience." Why did you hire me to engineer your project then?! I did not agree to be a silent and faceless prop; you certainly didn't ask me to be.

I do not know if this is racism as the definition has shifted beyond my comprehension, but I do know that I am hurt, mostly by the flippancy and aggression of the conversation, but also because this has never happened to me before. I'm confused. I don't know what is right and wrong here.

I am acutely aware that my privilege as a relatively intelligent white American male with parents who love and have financially supported me has put me at an advantage more times than I could ever know, and my size and demeanor have certainly helped me to avoid trouble countless times. Something I wanted was taken from me because of the choiceless state of my body in being white, which I know is a beautiful illustration of what so many people of color, women, poor(er), sicker, and less intelligent people have experienced with far more frequency and consequence.

I grew up color blind and sheltered as fuck; 'we could all live in harmony if we just made the right decisions and looked towards the caliber of others' inner values as the primary means of judgement.' Hoo boi was I ever ignorant. Then I started learning. 

First I read Howard Zinn's People's History of the United States and my third eye was pried open violently. Then I took classes in my liberal arts major from African American teachers about ethics, the history of slavery, African American literature, and inter-cultural communication. I read and listened and wrote and reflected and discussed... I had no illusion that any of this would ever qualify me to understand, as I wrote at the top of this page I am quite confident that my understanding of the black experience in America is one that can only survive propped up by dozens of disclaimers.

So here I sit, confused and frustrated and perhaps that's a beautiful thing, something that can fuel my compassion moving forward... but I also feel bitter and vindictive, possibly in response to the anxiety from such an awkward confrontation... from feeling at the mercy of yet another asshole client in the long string of people that were protected from my true feelings by the sickly unbalanced veil of customer service dynamics. It's hard to say... but it helps to write it out, ruminate on things, and more than anything to remember that I don't adequately understand the lives, experiences, or injustices that other beings have or will experience.

death laughs back at these pitiful stances

we dont fully return to the void when we leave

we are held captive in the tormented minds of those we leave behind

left to be abstracted and distorted by their ego

the violence of remembering lingers 

long after our flesh has decayed we persist

i know its been a while

but i dont need sleep

i only need to dream

churning, blistering heat, edge of last night's softest touch on a whim but it felt right 

dangerous and not exactly the brightest idea, you couldn't help but shine 

it aint perfect or even aligned but goddamit I'm not gonna lie 

even though it is fantasy it is mine and I am swimming in it 

I pace around the parking lot

I like writing here because I have no idea if anyone sees it and I can assume no one does, which is some kind of strange small comfort... I get to come bury my abstract momentary thoughts and random poetry here, somewhere thats public but effectively hidden, like my own secret garden of emotional turbulence. If anyone I know ever happens upon this, I'd rather not know that you did.

I want to 'share' my feelings about this life, and as usual always keep it vaguely cathartic... i speak with a therapist regularly, who gets all the juicy details, but I sometimes like to choreograph a dance of phrases that allow my emotions to dance their way out of me and onto some arbitrary website that might one day be found by alien archaeologists as they algorithmically populate a database containing every combination of the English language ever assembled by an organic lifeform.

~

In this very moment of writing this, I'm working through some new kinds of pain, contemplation, and intensities. Over the past few weeks I've had the opportunity to come face to face with my own instincts and programming at a depth I'd never conceptualized. Through navigating some new flavors of interpersonal turbulence I have become acutely aware of my own capacity for compassion; the specific kind of compassion that permeates the world around me in every bonded pair of hearts whose proclivity for sacrifice allows our species to continue existing on this verdant planet.

~

It feels so special... so unique to my own story, even as it is one of the oldest understandings that sapient creatures can endure. What I've gone through is my own, though the experience itself is shared by our entire society whether or not we are aware of it. We all share this place. When there is a birth, a death, a marriage of souls, or a dissolution of spiritual bonds it echoes through the greater world in often subtle and indiscernible ways.

I have long believed that all meaning is imposed upon this reality by those with the capacity to create it... even if it feels like this experience is something so tangible that it would ripple out into existence with or without us. What I'm living through right now feels more ancient and perfect than something that little old me would be carrying in my tiny beautiful heart, but I trust and know that so many other hearts have carried this same struggle into the battle that we call one-day-at-a-time.

~

I don't have any desire to ruminate at length on what might have been in some other timeline where things were just different enough to lead me down roads I don't even see on the map. The mind is built to wonder, though, and I sometimes find myself staring at the map of my life for hours wondering what other lives could have lived.

I know that I am not alone... and that I also must carry my own burden towards the horizon of what I might become. It is with this in mind that I serenade my own heart with a song of acceptance, hope, and always working hard to process my emotions into nutrients for the soil of the self I will one day embody.

~

I love you from all the way over here, even if these words have grown stagnant and died in the abstracting entropy of time's tireless march towards forever.

Romantic/sexual chemistry can be a dangerous beast, particularly when levied against common sense and basic self-preservation.

When the heart chakra is overwhelmed with energy, it can lead to you overexert yourself in your personal life, allowing your relationships to become toxic. You may feel ruled by your emotions and overly dependent on your relationships.

Signs of an overactive heart chakra:

Codependent
Neglect Emotional Self-Care
Lost Sense of Identity
Lost Sense of Personal Boundaries
Saying Yes to Everything Even When it Hurts You
Giving to Others Without Restraints

unprecedented stimulus
captivated inclination
transmission overwhelming

I'm almost scared to write about you

but its building and i cant hold on much longer

The will of my body and mind

If I am unable to wake, I expect your congratulations on my journey ahead. Thank you.

• Do not prepare my body for the ground outside of what is legally necessary (no embalming or fire), and bury me whole (somewhere unmarked if possible). 
• Find the part of me that is you by occasionally getting weird and keeping your expressive outlets practiced and cathartic.
• Let B take whatever she likes of mine and do whatever you like with the rest of it. I am not my things; I was once a collection of memories tied to a skeleton but I no longer persist outside of your mind. 
• If my body were to remain alive without my functional mind, pull that plug asap and catch me on the other side for some tequila shots. I leave it up to my family.

I love you more than words are worth. Thank you.

You and I and everyone else here... we are extensions of this planet and the space around it.

blood shooting through everywhere
hot tension contracting

im enduring it
but there are so many signal dancing out of brain
and onto the stage that is my skin

im afraid to call out,
at war with my instincts
so the shouting stays inside

Big man says eat ya vegetables
if anys left out on your plate i'll crush your testicles,
come find you at a festival and puncture both your ventricles
with a rusty needle and my genitals.

you have never lined up
and it couldn't make sense
there was barely chemistry
and our discourse felt tense

~

i had hoped for the blossoms
of devotion to grow
yet the soil was rotten
now there's nothing to show

So so beautiful
and this is all too needed
in my strange little tiny world

i remember being smaller back then
and yet so much more myself
in only some of the useful ways

~

you are towering above me
strapped with furs and my attention,
the good omen I didn't know I needed

we are symbols meeting and reflecting,
inwardly and every other way
hopeful but still bound to what we've left behind

your eyes find mine so easily;
i'd pull myself wide open
just to wrap you in my warmth

~

i was grateful to be present
to witness your vessel
as it headed off towards adventure and new compassions

even though i'd rather whisk you away
into a story we'd write about tomorrow
at the dawn of what's to come

why do they always crowd away from this
and then never look back over their shoulders?
would it lead to unwanted attention
that id crave
like everyone else seems to?

There's a bunch of shit in my life coming to fruition that I set in motion a long time ago. Lots of help from mentors, hard work, sacrifice, and a mentality of always seeking education through every (sometimes shitty) opportunity has gotten me closer to my goals...

And I'm still right in the thick of it where i want to be, learning new skills and building momentum.

working on finding the higher ground from those
wide frantic eyes
and the mouth that can't stop running

any semblance of guidance
dissolves into the wind
as I will keep it all for myself
safe and warm from
the infliction of such vicious neurosis

Profitable Defeat

Couldn't find you where you said you'd be,
but I'm really not that sorry
Because of all the progress made
in the name of my vigilant goals.

Sure it's no fun
to pull up to a locked gate
my entry
barred by design
But if I had
gotten the right way
then we still might never
have found
Common ground

I am a drug addict

and the drug that I crave is Oxytocin

I don't simply seek the weak version you can find in a hug, a fuck, or a conversation...
I want that concentrated shit, with a balanced supply chain... and I'm willing to wait.

There's no other version I've tasted that comes close to making love to someone you cherish above the rest, someone who humbles you, inspires the poetry within, someone who can overwhelm your defenses and rush in headfirst. The only dealer worth having is one with enough emotional stability to keep the pipes flowing over the months and years it takes to develop the level of connection that this habit unfortunately requires.

My drug requires the building of trust, the practice of forgiveness, and a quick wit to keep me on my toes. To get high I have to go deep into the bond between myself and some alien entity that somehow fits snuggly  against a facet of my soul.



... I am without a steady supply right now, but I'm a vigilant addict and I'm looking for my fix.

Draped Arms

I'm not inclined to call this wasted time
but I could live with calling this a fruitless pursuit

Your character speaks volumes about the differences
between where I'm headed and
where you'd like to be

Thank you for reminding me of what it might feel like
to have a heart pumping oxygen
to every corner of my being

.

I have the capacity to transform
pain into affection,
sorrow into sound,
wisdom into altruism,
fire into meditation,
loneliness into compassion.

I am more of a vessel than a husk,
despite my prior misinterpretations.

Voracious Pounding

I've made a mistake
I came calling
When I wasn't welcome

The signs were wrong
Or maybe I misunderstood
I could have simply asked
But now the answer speaks for itself

I'd hoped we might begin
A story worth the time
But rather than regret
Instead I'll just write this

Perfection is formless
It is force and momentum

Although some deny its existence
I can't help but find myself
Heart racing,
trying to catch a glance
without being seen

Perfection is imagination
Given form and so so much weight
But only while it lasts
Which is fleeting at its best

Perfection is unapproachable
For those who seek the kind of romance
That lives and dies inside;
I can't imagine any other way

False Truth Serum

Untethered positivity in proximity 

Spouting validations meaning absolute shit to me.
Sharing careless vulnerabilities
Like a manic mental patient ill at ease.

Why does my drugged proclivity
Stand at odds with what I'd really be
If you caught me on my daily routine?

Vapid ponderances expelled at a rapid pace,
With just enough truth mixed in that I won't reject the taste.

Fuck this drug and fuck these empty encounters,
I'd rather be my usual self-obsessed anxious downer.

the tendril that binds us has thorns

i feel you in here
twisting and writhing
unborn potentials
left to fester

in my dreams
my protection spells
are nearly muted
and now something is calling
me to find you

but i just fucking cant do it

I Wont.

the pattern of injuries
has left me older
and scarred beyond recognition
but none of it is worse
than rejecting
what very well could have been
my other half

moon states

Be gentle with your self
its the only one you'll get

I deeply and completely accept myself.

~

how do i break the habit
of pushing people away
its hard to find an interest
in the things that others say
i wish i could relate
and find the time to care
but instead I focus inward
and retreat back to my lair

~

ive had it once before
and lost what i could see
was something all too fragile
as a chosen family
i cant pretend to know
what lies in store ahead
for now i sit and hope and wait
alone beside my bed

Trinkets

Fast
waters
Rushing in
Towards a distant
Point of mild interest and
She was giving me a look that I
would not care to forget
The water level
Is still
Rising
High

I see you in here, shaping this soul
scraping the edges and reinforcing confusions

Oh dark and bitter plane
I can feel your contortions upon the clay of my mind

Unweave the spiral to find the line
It will only end
At the whim of your complacency

Perhaps one day I will find a romantic connection that is synergistic with my personality and behaviors. These instincts have been whisper this in my ear.

You think you can fool me?
Challenging my spirit, forcing my mind into the dark realms of comparison and envy, making me lazy and useless in the shadow of my own potential. It was a clever attempt, but I see you lurking behind my eyes, describing my life's positions over and over again then whispering, "what will you become, little flower?"

We Want Out

Scratching at the door
To this coffin
That we had built
With these very hands

Locked in to something
That we can't escape
Though our minds might waver
As these visions clear

Time is running out
As the air thins
But no one can hear
Our calls for help

I must ask:
When is it that I'll be truly alive?
Did it happen already or is it happening still?
Perhaps it is something that cannot be,
though there exists a feeling deep inside
that inspires me to believe
that I will never know.

Album conceptualization v55.5

I've been circling around the answer for months:

My artistic focus has not been about the DMT dream state that precedes the death of the flesh, rather the deep-hibernation type of dreamy/lazy slumber that waits for me in the waters of complacency and resistance. But that is only a partial context; this sleep is also an innate and instinctual aspect of my survival; it is ironic that our sleep seems to mimic our death.

Doing nothing is the death of potentiality in some ways, and is the acceptance of our nature in another. It is the sirens song of sleep that separates us from the sensation of global momentum, even as we travel around the sun at an identical speed to the planet we slumber upon.

The kind of death that is impermanent, selfish, and ritualistic. The kind of death that fuels the life of the one instead of the many (microbes).

"After a long period of deep, introspective (even death-like) comatose span of inaction - the bear emerges, victorious and driven to sustain its life (and a ravenous focus on food after hibernating)."

It is a dualistic function; eating to defecate, inhaling only to exhale, loving only to lose. Our sleep is both a denial of consciousness and actionable intention, as well as the fertile soil in which we sow our next day's crop.

I wish to summon the sensations of the deepest (feeling) levels of sleep, being lost in a dream, being paralyzed as the mind wanders and the body cannot, the feeling of disassociation with ones immediate environment and the simultaneous regurgitation of ones perceived environment. 

I wish to provide a lullaby that beckons as the sirens song might, lulling the adventurer into a dark cave with no walls and no signs to guide them out in panic. 

I wish to represent the weightless freedom of unshackled arms in a realm with obtuse motivations and physics.

husk pondering

a cream-filled vessel going spoiled
thermometer with an attitude cracked spilled and swept away
collections of memories slipping into entropy
ordered operations and collected chaos becoming uncollected
becoming and dissolving

New Lyrics

We seek this eternal light
that only exists in our minds eye.
A promise itself is a lie.
These are my thoughts when I'm too high.

~~~~


You take my side
to recollect our lives,
instead of flying
out into space and time.

You think you're gonna come
It's already begun
We do not need to wait
You have begun your final day.

Now tell me why
you can't be sacrificed
one look inside
would open up your mind.

Still waiting to believe
in something you cannot concieve
no fighting entropy
You have begun your final sleep.

Entropy 1

One need not summon entropy
for our fates are woven into our traits
and desire can only adhere for so long.

The moon remains unbloodied
while the soil drinks us back into our true homes.

Whether or not we're to agree that meaning survives
outside the realm of our suppositions,
no key might ever be forged that could open our minds
wide enough to tell the difference.

Each night we taste eternity.
Tomorrow is a lie.

We said dont breathe too long
I cant dreade the only enemy
I'm fearless
and inescapable
I want you to know
the (only) enemy

I call
you out
I fear it all
clear
my vestibule

Here... in my...

I have so many emotions moving so fucking fast within...

But I think I need to just chill a bit, be positive, focus on the constructive, and fake any sense of order that might have otherwise been a projection of this chaos that walks around in my shoes.

You burn right through me
like molten steel poured down over my fears,
and it only seems to get harder with time.

I have become my own enemy
as these memories have no edges
after a while.

I remember a time in my young life when I frequently felt like the ideal future path of humanity would usher in togetherness, harmonious homeostasis, and compassion.

Now, with the help of some perspective, I am just beginning to see that there is no secret pocket of untapped virtue within the vast majority of us. The living eat the dead and the collective voice of my people is turned in on itself rather than belting out some angelic exaltation to the heavens of our potential for social cohesion.

I see that it is ignorant to look past the shackles and into the eyes, or at least it is certainly not the just thing to do.

It's hard for me now to conceptualize the world I would like to live in, for this world confuses me and has disenfranchised and distorted  my connection to the unifying spirit of shared hope that I once sought with confidence.

What do you
accept through?
In time here
it seems clear
that you should
open your heart.
It's true that
there's more... that you could do
to make truth
 exude
when you do your part.
Put out your arms and let us in x2
The true embrace
will seek no names
only a guide
between the flames.
Turn to your kin
as arms extend.
You know that you... must let us in. (for this medicine)
Worshipping this entropy
Letting you wash over me
Until we share the air we breathe.
There is a time and place
to squeeze,
but please make sure you reach out
consensually
Respect, the virtue we believe
its not too late to give and to recieve.
Put out your arms and let us in x2

Be patient... The world is changing... Don't lose hope.
There is promise all around us, though we must raise our sights to see it.

I went through a depression of sorts, gave up on being alive or caring, and now that i'm out of that i haven't given up the bad habits that formed during this time. I don't hate life anymore like that so its time for me to act like it.

life is sludge
this messy death
takes a little more every day

there is nothing there to release me
and so i swing back and forth
too high to climb

This naughty brain is crying out for more punishment. I can only abuse my self so much, I apparently need some help.

You will not read these words
and yet they call out your name

future heart mirror I reach out to you
from somewhere strange in time and space

Terrorize my insides little bird
i've been pent up like you've never seen before
Living in an incubator, so warm in here
and the cold world outside moves more quickly

Propped up by these tawdry goals and nothing else
while the rest of me consumes the worlds away
My cheeks are the cushions all carefully placed
before the show goes on just outside of my view

my souls not gone/dead
its just sad, cold, and asleep

two dead
family got a little smaller
and my house lost a friend

Erik i didnt know a damn thing about you
and now its gone

i dont know how to feel
except to say that it is horrifying
to think of the situation of how you were found,
and to consider a life extinguished...

one day later i am greeted home
by the glowing but dead eyes
of a feline acquaintance
i had so enjoyed.

The pool of blood
is still drying out front.

Love doesn't heal love doesn't help
It won't change the core
It doesn't teach a person to be better

It is fucking garbage
A poison
Toxic sludge pumping through my veins

Love is primal
And basic
And violent
And selfish

Fuck your brain and it's dishonest chemistry

Love will not strengthen
Love is a weakness
It is a comfort that distracts from true progress

Fuck you and your broken minds
Fuck me and my broken hearts

this time, walk into my mind
all the way inside, this could be the best tonight,
this could be the best to-

with your hands over your eyes
welcome to your life

You were always on my mind

this time, we dont have to run, we can stay awhile
and smile half the time

this time, we can comprehend that its all been done again.
oh i can never end

I died again last night
after that blasting from the observer
i was ended and felt this slipping away
and it was fine

Plunging into this subconscious Goddess state
I could walk and talk inside of her
Accompanied by the thoughts of my common form
Escorting this woman through my ways

thankful for the words
that have come and gone
as they lay idle like corpses
outlining the road
that led me from the madness

half-state

half-state
where you're open again
calling out
flashing slivers of lip
crumbling thighs

and all the while
greeting rain
with a thirst
too multifaceted
to pleasure away

hallucinatory middle-ground
where its never enough
and the stakes are all odd
and the need is calling
calling

My gratitude is pulsing with the kind of color
that follows the good fortune
of having this time to heal

There is no connection to preserve
other than the tendril attaching
this soul to the earth

This circumstance is conducive to a greater worship
that would see me standing tall, wings outstretched
in an unmistakable exaltation towards today

and just like that i am beautiful all over again
up and down and side to side

if i stop to focus on how far down i was,
i'll never fight my way into the waiting arms
that grasp me back

the phase has shifted
and i'm panning towards the right

Tidings

this is the point when my words become used
in efforts to conjure the totems of a satisfied existence
that may be waiting patiently along my path ahead.

the words that i will speak and write from here on out
will form the framework of the life i must possess

the emotions that dwell behind me
have done me no service
and must be released

~

Here I am, sweet supple world of chaotic wonderment

It is I, a strange traveler, seeking madness
like the juice pouring from the corners of your lips
seeks it's way to the dirt below

What next kindred spirit might sing in harmony
outside the courtyard of my time

I beckon you in,
glorious vessel,
so that you might nudge me
closer to that which i've sought

We shall marry our arms
in the sort of congregation that
only we could ever follow

goooood fuckin luck

Inferior
Antidote to
Never being enough for me

I will forgive her when I become equipped to

raspy glowing voice glides like sun-softened coconut oil from the quagmire of my fears
as I am pushed to accept that nothing will fill this hole for an indeterminable period

Fuck the mini bike

at 6am the whole world is alone
now the sky is peaking at the break of today

fucking garbage minded
phallus bashing
life smasher
~
you are the fire in which you burn
flesh melting off the bone
blackened husk
of a darkened soul

she returned from the island
pregnant with chaos
apparently logic is flammable

nothing could calm it
chilling sense of no return
our affections could not survive

i am grateful for the others
sex and attention can distract the pain
and get me far enough away

now there's a chance for healing
even when it gets lonely
better this than living a lie

She was already gone
in a soft pack of whys
like the glimmer of dawn
that lived deep in her eyes

Much better my heart
silenced facing the rest
than a quivering mind
and a long-spoken chest

She had always been gone
something fleeting and wrong

She had always been gone
to a fanciful place
to the eye, inner peace
spoken truth, inner hate


My body is old
with a definite wish
of a keep holding back
if a falling amiss

grand (dream)

the air quivers in delight
as my fingers find those precious keys that sing in harmony,
eyes closed, mind adrift,
in this darkened respite at the edge of some distant festivity

I remember the electric sense of reverberation
and my skin prickled and hair stood on end;
it was as though my body and mind had found
some predestined pathway to nirvana
in those intuitive intervals and notes
played for no one but my self.

the violence that might become (dream)

blasted from the sky, feeling the inertia without all the noise of moving this fast
plunked into shallow water that somehow cushions my vulgar impact
i belong to this creek now as i am washed away
until there is a light with an ominous context
i reach out with my voice and the light is extinguished as a form emerges from the shadows behind
as all inertia has taken form if only to creep me the fuck out
as i am flung into consciousness by some figment in my sleep

i don't belong here

the world is chauvinistic
and wants to dominate my smile

tiny golden glimpses between the fence
to validate something different

yet its all bullshit
just a distracting hopeless lunge down

im not that way,
or at least i dont know how to be

at least i'm lucky enough
to suffer only discomfort and confusion

there are lives and lines
that carve much deeper into such pain

Kenopsia

Like two point blank shotgun blasts to the cranium,
each request left little to the imagination.
She had always been too quick, too brash
for him to keep up on any level she would allow;
and here it was,
drawn out for him on the mental equivalent of yellow snow,
the tumor-ridden husk of a once sanguine attraction
lying doubled over at the threshold of this tiny house.

She was free now
to chase the bigger and the better,
as her pleas had been fulfilled
by his total evacuation from
any shared plane of interaction.

He had forfeited the whole world to abscond,
even if it had been more her style
to participate in this mass delusion most call life.