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