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.
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?"
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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
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
but please make sure you reach out
Respect, the virtue we believe
its not too late to give and to recieve.
Put out your arms and let us in x2
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
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.
It won't change the core
It doesn't teach a person to be better
Toxic sludge pumping through my veins
Love is a weakness
It is a comfort that distracts from true progress
Fuck me and my broken hearts
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
where you're open again
flashing slivers of lip
and all the while
with a thirst
to pleasure away
where its never enough
and the stakes are all odd
and the need is calling
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
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,
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