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


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
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


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