Friday, December 30, 2016

feathercraft

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—

Articulately.
Methodically.

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
eternal.

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
Unique.
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.  

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