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