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.

Gone.

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

You.

This.

Us.

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 .