Friday, December 30, 2016


At times it seems beyond description
--But I know it isn’t
The dimensional nature of our world
ideas of dimension.
visions of Esper

Esper; just an analogy for something else
Words; just vocalizable representations

fantasies of rendered flesh—


a million little mycelia
Proliferating every facet of heart
And mind
And spirit

My love is the wilderness that never ceases.

the dream-owl dusk
Where clocks wind back
And come apart into their constituents
Gears and springs eroding into dust
Mountains rising and falling like earthen waves
Human forms contort to the ballet of life and death

I am the hallucination,
Machine and rock
Crumbling sierras gnashing into the sky
the variegated falcon feathers falling on diamond plate
animals ripping apart other animals
I am the raptor
Electric and decisive
tearing at the psychological constructs
holding our world in chains

frozen in three dimensions
a part of me fantasizes the return
frustrated with this human form
with these bones I am made visceral.

It materializes up out of nothing
A swirling shape of the void
The low-pressure spiral
Pulling everything into it
shocking the æther
connecting the imaginary with reality
the curse is this:
I remember love absently
Retroactively, as if overly familiar
Worn rugged Through time  
From all the beings I have been in the past
And all the beings I am to become
I dream of an æsthetic
Involving my own offspring
I dream of a day where I find peace
I dream of a world like none I have ever known.

And it is the truth:
I am the hallucination 
Of warrior kings—
Homicidal darkweb sophistication
their existence is but a whisper in the coliseum of my great thoughts
Where I am the chaos of empires
the hate of the earth, incarnate
everything I know
has led me to this titular moment.
I had not realized how powerful I had become
Relentless & vicious,  
The liquid distillate of my own beliefs
in every sense of the word.
How humbled and overwhelmed I feel in these moments
To stand at the helm
Surrounded by those loyal to my throne
We become the anthem of beautiful rage
A west-coast Californian empire
That makes me nothing less than
Utterly complete

As if: the abstraction
Of a fourth dimension
makes us whole.  

Thursday, December 22, 2016

on Nostalgia

As I watch the sunset over the pier

The rippling waves connected in the liquid bass

And I think of the past

The past lives I have been

The past dreams I have held

The past.


Evaporated into nothingness.

The machines in the distance

Stand like exotic animals

Backlit to an orange sky

It is beautiful because it is rife with pollution.

It is beautiful because it is ephemeral.

It is beautiful because it has to be:

Because it masks something so sinister and wicked.

I feel the drugs start to kick in.

I feel the walls of my mind eroding

To the sound

And I must go take my place among the trees

At the center of this jungle

Bees hanging from my branches

I condense honey

And feel whole.

No matter how ancient I become

I will always love




I will always be made complete in my humanity

In the echoes of what I have become

In the rage

And the hate.

And the power

of my own dimension,

Snatched from thin air


Its that déjà vu

And reality begin to intermingle

Where I know it will make me sound weird

Asking if I’ve been here before.

with the designed æffect in mind

it becomes the redundant choppy waves,

licking away an orange and retiring sun

echoes of darkness reverberating through human forms

as we awaken in the night

I am whole.

In the electric jungles of man.

I am whole

in the echoes of memory

I am whole .


Monday, December 19, 2016


On ethereal shores, Visions of Esper come to mind
Us stalking like herons
Through listless waves mirroring a clouded sky
In memory I was elsewhere
Grace and sorrow fluctuating within me
what a new emotion,
Feeling as though the words were foolish before they came out
As Interruptions of Om absolved in sacred geometry
My feet traversing the pools,
little echoes of my steps spreading outward
spreading as circles across silver water
my thoughts spreading out
upon the surface of some other plane
ephemerality conducing each moment
into brilliant symphony
remembering things sentimentally
when I was not like this:
and the thought of those that would not be here with us
in the same context
Absolved of this reality
Forgotten to the nature of time
I felt my flow draw suddenly to my wrists—
These ethereal invisible whips,
utterly familiar
where the wings of my being spread like fractals
liquid and crystal
clairvoyant and new
eloquent to the vibration of existence
within many dimensions I am made whole
time unfolds as it must
like a dream of the future
exacting its own being
as if waves of myself rippling invisibly through the pools of our mutual reality
out into all of the spaces I do not yet know
this is how I have come to spend my time—
dreaming of things that have not yet come to be

Saturday, December 17, 2016

of storms

I shoot a Xanax with a monster

And walk outside to pee

Behind the garage

As an excuse to go outside

The balconies never have people on them

It feels a bit like gardening

But without plants I can’t draw power

No matter how many times I urinate in the same spot

Its nothing like gardening.

The plants don’t make me anxious like the people do

Everywhere, all the time

there is a siren,

or a car alarm

or a helicopter

and I stand there

trying to reign it all in.

Don’t. be. Fucking. crazy.  

And the words

Anthem and Acheron and pantheon

And a haiku-esque poem comes on suddenly.

I say it out loud to nobody

And feel free of a kind of tyranny

If only for an instant.