no work is ever complete

like a speed so brutally swift that to comprehend it's trajectory would mean to be bolted alongside it
in a cascade of colors so intense your mind refuses acceptance siphoned through the actuality of remote sensuality.
whisked away from material knowns into the depths of time and space so deranged psychotic residents couldn't dream it
even through explosive foresight deep in caverns of sweet shadowed sunlight the manifestation of comets of inspiration waxes and wanes.
one and one you sense the recollected recollection of coursing sliding turning bursting shining blinding masking through
into the tourniquet of comprehensive, temperamental thorns composed of melted liquid cosmic beams of falser truth
reduced into evaporated signals ticking through retired mechanimisms of the deepest desires of your motorization
barely conceivable to microscopic organisms; intentionally silent and briskly approaching the apex
of a beat composed of anger roaring through the sirens centered registering into something conscious consciousness faded to
a beast conceived maniacally unleashed within a pulsing flame which gained stabilization through variation of game
in a torrent of plasmology exponentially reigning down from heaven's open palms into the arms of benefactors
the make-believe achieve a masterminding scheme to resurrect the motions laughing in the box behind the curtain of the scene

breathe
time to forget how to read

touch not these words
these worlds are filtering

look not to these words
the spoils of
intrinsic thought

two electronic signals perfectly spliced through the dark side of Eden where the self stages fights
inner sight; 98% cascading brilliance bouncing brainwaves into nothing as they fall to oblivion's reach
producing a visage of emulated perfection based on the content of current static velocity through the medium.
faded below the deepest sorrows of the soul which cried itself into existence from the depths of coalescing twilight
to the sound of a drum that steadily drones on to the beat of a song incomprehensible from a state of three-dimensionality.
a higher order places a forced checkmate over past experience etching causality into actuality
in turn a mountain crumbles at the soft touch of wind, revealing yet another prime directive to be taken in
through the lonely spire of loss that drips from the jowls to the ground in the form of liquid micro-organismic playgrounds


breathe
time to forget how to read

touch not these words
these worlds are filtering

look not to these words
the spoils of
intrinsic thought

without you

met you in a metaphorical mind-scape

and in that moment all else faded

a dazzling mode interlaced with brilliant light

i stutter...what can i say to you?

you smile, no words leave your lips

i can sense your mind

we meld into a single thought

though even in this realm my freedom

seems tainted and un-enabled

the world outside is beckoning

must i return to a realm in which you're not?

your eyes meet mine

i can stay, i must

you hold my hand

your touch...

we go alone together

to places i cannot relate

two figures lost in a blur

only our silhouettes stand solid

one last look as i feel myself slipping

as i awaken i refuse conceit

i never open my eyes

i hold onto your memory

still your face fades into darkest shadow

when will i see you again?

i try to fall back into my slumber

but no matter how i try

i find myself

stuck here

perpetually

without you

what's left is nothing

when you say one thing
and you do another
it really can fuck with your head

when you say one thing
and you do another
you really fuck with my head

or at least you used to
used to be able to
but now i just can't deal

or at least you used to
used to be able to
but these days it seems i can't feel

i can't feel the same way that i did before
and how could i, would i? no
because if i still felt the way i did before
than we wouldn't be having
be having these conversations

you call me and you say one thing
and then do another
what am i supposed to think
when you call crying?

am i supposed to stop what i'm doing
and comfort you?
you don't listen anyway
to a word that i say

all you hear are the sounds of the ocean
of emotion
that you're stuck in so deeply
you can't see the sun

and you want someone to hold you
hold you so tight
and i did for a while
but i just can't tonight

and am i supposed to feel bad for this?
i work myself to the bones and still
am i supposed to feel bad for this?
for at one time giving you something so real?

i do wish that we could be what we once were
but the truth is we're only
what the earth and the moon and stars have dictated
that we are destined to be

and at this time and place i cannot drop the hat
and run to your soft loving arms
because while you were trying to find who you are
i found myself, groomed myself, made something strong

no matter the circumstance leading to this
i feel that i've given you all that i can
and i know what you want and i know what you need
what you need is to feel the love of a man

and it's not just me, though you say i'm the one
but you also told me that you want to move on
and i gave you the lead and it's yours to decide
take me as is or leave me far behind

and i'm not just your slut
i'm not just your slave
i'm a human with feelings like you
the main difference is i don't let my emotions
run my life like you do

maybe i'll be left alone forever
and maybe i'll find something true
but if you can't handle the way that i am
than i don't have a thing left for you

chasing amy

i saw the post today
hah...i should have known
what was i thinking back all those years
i guess i was just young and dumb
but it was never a matter of not knowing
that you were the one for me
it was simply a cry from a scared child
a thinking that there was only one method to succeed
to go and leave you
and pursue my own
i guess i'm just a fool...

since then i've tried
tried so hard to find your replacement
and unfortunately, so far, i've struck nothing but fool's gold
throw away the prize to search for something you won't find
that's my M.O.
that's my stupidity

you're a diamond, hah...
someone else's diamond now
i guess it's what i get for leaving you there
with nothing...nothing...
nothing just like me

if you can ever forgive me
if you ever think about me
know that i'm still here waiting
because i have no choice

until the day you're with me
until the day we once again lock eyes
and see that infinite perfection deep down within the other
i'll be chasing amy

i've come to realize

that through all things
there will only be one thing
that will keep me from being

it's love, people.

love is a plague; a disease of the mind
it keeps you distracted
keeps you from your hopes and dreams
at one point it may have been
the excelled product of all one would hope for
but in this world love cannot be
at least not in this moment

my life as of now is filled with treachery
twists and turns and situations
situations that could change everything
my path is set before me steadily
but i cannot hold your hand while i stride

so i must choose;
do i leave?
or do i give up everything for you?

perhaps this is romance; to give up one's entire life for the love of another
to pass on all things save one; that one and only one
but even if i were, and am, the hopeless romantic
i know that i could never give you what you want
what you need
or what i need for myself
in this current life i hold

time;

time is a cold and bitter excuse
yet i feel it perfectly logical to demand more time to grow

even you are not ready; you don't know what you want
you don't know what you need
and i know that there is someone out there
who already does
who would love me where i am
and walk with me toward a future that we had planned


while the fanciful dreams of our past are perfection
i know that they are not possible unless we can traverse life together
laughing and joking with the sun and the stars
not on each others' shoulders
not on each others' backs
not nagging and whining and making up emotions
that only cloud the life which we try to lead

it's through this that i travel
and it's through this that i fight
for once i have finally found that one to walk next to
it won't be about love
it won't be about sex
it won't be about anything but our futures combined

this is true love
it can never be fabricated.

hail humanity!!!

what is this life?
and what does it all mean?
and is that a question that can even be asked?
much less answered?

think of your life as i think of mine.

what was the significance, beyond all things transcending time?

other than to form significance, i can come to nothing.

beauty, perhaps?

we are an entity compromising itself on behalf of beauty

on behalf of a world that exists within our minds that has not yet fully come to fruition in the foreground.

and ever, will it?

i suppose it depends on we, the folk existing in the now.

even as you sit there reading this text you are being changed; manipulated

not for malice, nor for personal gain

more for experience, for lack of a better metaphorically pleasurable muse of slang.

i am a seeker, as i conclude we all must be under the surface of the ego we form through our mundane everyday excursions into the material world

the only world we can all agree on:

EARTH! 365 1/4 DAYS IN A YEAR! 7 DAYS ON A CALENDAR PER WEEK!

at least that's how it is in MY COUNTRY! GREATEST COUNTRY OF THEM ALL! LOOK AT OUR LITTLE LIFE! ISN'T IT CUTE?! EACH WITH OUR OWN QUAINT LITTLE UNITS OF FRIENDS AND PRECISELY ARTICULATED FAMILY UNITS; DON'T IT JUST MAKE YOU WANNA SLAP YOUR MOMMA?!

but beneath it each of us knows of a world far more extravagant; at least far more appealing

singular perfection; to use a term lightly

those of us fortunate enough have been able to preview this world

some even more unfortunate soul is there now; but only cognitively

trapped in an ever-flowing escarpment of what could and what is and what if and only if i...only if we...why can't we...why must we...why do we...do we...are we?...wait a minute...WE? WHAT ARE WE?

and even so brilliantly sculpted,

a phrase uttered uselessly can never be

turned from damned to praised.

crush yourself

grind you down

see what's you when you're all gone

and then you'll know

beyond all else

who always was there

beyond you

and all at once

you'll know and see

our existential humanity

is nothing far from genius

expel your soul from the dungeons of thine

quiet your demons, the darkness is fading

embrace the dragons of your own time

the unrequited brilliance

that thrives within the you within you

deep

deep

deeper yet

twisting deeper through limitless cooridors

embrace the truth of knowledge and the magic existing between the lines of all time

and space and all will seem to coalesce before your eyes

for the present moment lived is now

and wasted is nigh

never stop to ponder for pondering leads to more pondering of ponderings pondering what ponderance you've pondered atop previously pondered ponderings!

it's gone afoul!

there are lies abound

the truth can only be found within

and if we can take the time to sort through the bones of this tarnished zen

we can possibly discover

that not only do we hold the answers

but that we are the answers to all the questions we seek to expound upon

we are the cosmological constant; the unifying theory

that only within our powerful, quantum selves could something of this magnitude be sculpted

and it is far beyond this physical manifestation that we shall grow

into a world so benevolent that to see it with our mortal eyes would cause immediate cessation

all the questions have already been answered; for eons upon eons we have answered them

for time is timeless

and endings, well...

all that is left is to live this life;

and with gusto!

for this gift; a glimpse; a brief moment;

to waste in pursuit of thought is nonsensical.

we must grasp onto this intricate instant; take it for what it truly COULD BE

for within our minds come the fruits of futures beheld

only we can be the bearers of that light singular into this otherwise dark and lonely world.

this is the cross we bear.

the cross we have crafted for ourselves.

to always better be.

and with great strides we move toward the future

hail humanity!


now go have some fun, you fucking Cretans! [i quit, i'm not typing on this anymore after i'm done typing this one last sentence that seemingly could, and just may, go on forever; ceaselessly charging toward a future predetermined but undisclosed!]

mmmm

ah, but when people are people
are they not full of shit?

is it possible to not be full of shit
when you're there in front of someone
it's not your fault, you're not trying to
it's just the way things are;

the world is too strange to not have bullshit
without bullshit we could not survive
it's the glue that holds our species together
in fact our drive to stay alive
every muscle spasm approaching a smile
we sit back, relax, have a smoke, crack a bottle
and pretend not to know
we think without thinking
we thought what we didn't
but that thought brought sinking
so we gave up thought; our thoughts were the thoughts we were given
and we chronologically formed "existing conditions"
and we smile and we bow
we tip our hats
and we learn to do this
and we learn to do that
and we sing and we dance
and we drink and we cry
and we bullshit ourselves
and we never ask why
and we bullshit each other
this portion is true
that right now this author
is bullshitting you
but i do not mean to
i have white intentions
but these words i type
are enforced by constrictions
if i break away from the scheme i have crafted
this thing falls apart and you're left with the ashes
if rhyme clashes in a discordic array
you may just stop reading; go on with your day
so i have to keep you on the edge of your brain
i do that with verse and by rhyming everything
if i stopped rhyming words
and i stopped going places
you'd loose all attention
and find my work "tasteless"
i'd be such a loser
insignificant
it's your world i work in
it's my mind's ascent
so i never finished writing this poem
i never finished writing this poem
never finished this poem
never even wrote this poem
you should stop reading this poem
why are you reading this poem
stop yourself from disappoint
ment stop your self from re-involvement
stop reading this poem
stop reading this poem
this poem
reading this poem
is known to cause brain damage
dane bramage spammimg tufts of allegory
fell from the 10th story of the library of insanity
come back with me
look to aisle 3
do you see?
the bookshelf near the iv?
with the hot nurse and fresh jug of kfc?
that one's for you

this one's for me









;3

i just ate your brains.