annealing

Fold me
And break me
Have me
and take me
in this bitter way
these words that have held me
fracture
unshell me
it is all that there is to say
im used to
this
abused with
this
there is nothing
new in this place
ive felt this
before
I yearn for
more
I never grow to be sure
When im folded in on myself
Like fractured origami
In this ghetto of lies
Ive been patient and waiting
Endlessly belating
Like the dreams that never die
Ethereal and needing
These dreams are so fleeting
your words
they never cease
the folding and breaking
the hate and raking
in time I am failing
broken on the railing
the words leave me reeling
in a world of annealing where I dream
of you
not again

Ritual

The words billow into the air like a silver cloud, 

calming and wonderful

 laced with affection and desire 

unravel into the room 

articulating themselves into reality 

gently, magnificently. 

  language in action taking place,

these sweaty covens 

 at the zenith of our communication 

where fictions becoming manifest.

 

 hopes and dreams

 aspirations conglomerating into essence, 

through many dimensions, 

through the eons of humanity
and whatever it is to be human,

 from the depths of beginnings 

sounds dream of what humanity aspires to be. 

as an opening nexus

 wide, comfortable 

shrouded in blankets of æther,

sugary and exquisite, 

like nothing and everything

 harmoniously fused

 
raining in a fine mist that transcends being. 

Our souls soaking in magic like thirsty succulents 

blotting and yearning,

drinking deep copious, voracious mouthfuls.

that flow through us,

 around us, 

within us. 

it makes the subtle cages

 of the world gently dissolve 

into things of grace and perfection,

 a pure, flawless, uninterrupted beauty.

 Genuine and transcendent

  lensing perspective

 if only for an instant. 

seek out these instants, 

for this is the stuff for which existence is made of; 

beautiful and melliferous language 

 transcendent of this earthly place,

 a boundlessness that floats through the air

 beckoning and challenging

 and waiting to be realized.

29/100

I see many doorways
not all of them go anywhere

In the biting heat, and the noise, and the chaos.
Where words are so easy to detect
listening

in return for their thoughts.

‘I can hear you.’

through the taro
like massive antennae
Spread thin through membranes
Twitching in the wind

I came in knowing their thoughts beforehand
confusion in their faces
visages seeking to make sense

fractals upon fractals
thoughts and realities
undulating as the fabric
borne like foam
bubbling from the fissure


the mire lies within the action of others
thoughtlessness, but also
different operating systems

butterflies mate regardless of
the necessary space to raise caterpillars
awestruck with the transformation that is made
caring little for the sacrifice that is rendered
upon the wastefulness of their offspring
through perceptive focus they must feel nothing
their world is that of an insect-
invested elsewhere

Homestretch

The last mile home
Registers as that
.the one space in my day where the end is coming into focus
Of all the dreams I have had,
On this day
They are becoming concrete
.the meaning will be applied to what I remember
And somewhere, my wrist hurts
Somewhere blood has been shed
Somewhere I said too much
And the wounds echo into the future
.the outcome of which is yet to be revealed
Today I lost friends
Today I gained enemies
I changed in so many ways
this moment only echoes the awakening of
the former person I was this morning
.the purpose of this seems to be lacking
Its so unclear what this is supposed to be
This thing. This gift
I’m tired, and I challenge myself further
And through the abuse it grows
This muscle of complexity
Moves faster and faster through their plane
.the reality that they inhabit cannot fathom our depths
I’m so tired of being alone.
And I grow tired of others
And their complacent, ignorant world
Is this an illness?
I do not feel well
Their hearts are too distant from my own
Desiccated under the battery and the noise
.the validity of this; I refuse to accept
I have felt the water of these people
And it is rich, and timely
And laden with all the affection that any heart has to offer
Where the friendship of another
Can heal any wound
I thirst for the cool water
That rises from the city by the mountains, by the ocean, in the desert
In this convergence my body is entangled
.the release of which I have not yet mastered
the nexus of this world
comes in and out of focus
so frequently
I hunger for it insatiably
In those sweet, strange moments
where I am released from the grip of time
in all of the surreal facets that make it relevant at all
where I become whole
by being all of the pieces
.the way that I change through time, but could somehow be called the same.

28/100

Dogged and tired,
Almost home
And it comes like a shot-
Stopping me midstep

“why hello? And who are you”
“Kilala.”
“Aww. Aren’t you pretty.”
And she sits all dressed in vibrant pink
Her colors rippling in the wind

Firm, resistant, and yet ticklish.
Spoiled in her new clothes
Happily oblivious to the world around her
“You know that name was a character from an anime many years ago. Did you hear that word from a child?”
….”maybe.”
Because adorable is beyond what I feel overcome by
An ancient and magical being that transitions for those in need
Willing, able, and yet mighty
She soars through the air with fire in her wake.
Beautiful in her power and endurance
Beautiful in her patience and loyalty

Kilala it is.

Jupiter

In this sudden Nexus of Conditions
With that puncture of the æther
The body still warm in my hands
I would do anything in this moment
to absolve you of this hurt
I too have known this ache

“I need it for my friend.”
I want him to be okay.
But I know he’s already gone.

and I sense it like soft wing-beat in the darkness
in the yard, where the static hallucination
of the white noise is ringing in my ears
“wait for us little one”
and return, come back as soon as you can

you make her so happy.
nothing can replace you.
you represent more than you realize.
this place Without you seems unreasonable-

You would be the perfect thing right now
yet, you are not anymore
and I am not prepared to let go.

wait for us little one
wait for her on the far side of the river
with all my love
we come for you in time

Van Nuys

It is this crap
This joke of intrigue
This lie
That make you feel as though
You have the gall ̶
You don’t.

a terrain of noise and shit
a land of slaves and subservient
That amounts to nothing
In what dilusion
Do you think this place is significant
What amount of lies have you levied against yourself
to make this sad player- a player at all

and what am I doing here?
How have I fallen so far that it has brought us into contact
This stalemate of worthlessness is all that we share
And this delusion of what you seem to think is applicable
Is so far from placeable it stuns me to think that you would ever find this right
Rather it would stun me, if you had any handle on that reality that I inhabit
If you weren’t simply waiting for your turn to speak
Never really listening, merely waiting for your moment to shine, And shine and shine
in a cesspool so endless as this- it doesn’t matter if you sparkle at all
you are forgotten and forgettable
south Americans that don’t speak enough of the language
cannot conceive how blind they are in this environment
shitting out more offspring like spawning frogs
mutated and disfigured under the pollution
of stupidity
and yet you go on
at length

about skills that you know nothing of.
lives you cannot comprehend.
and realities you cannot conceive of.
but yes, go on.

tell me of the glory of your yet unborn children.
speak at me of your perception of accomplishments.
absolve my time with your words, and thoughts, and concepts.
...and I will tell you:
that there is nothing more treacherous
than falling in love with your own legend.

this ignorance breeds
I cannot pity its strife
I don’t have time for my own
But I know that there is so much more than this
this place is the most pathetic environment
like your mothers beliefs
or your nostalgia for the dream that they seem to have
they are but cheap words spoken over someone more influential
disguised in the grandiose illusion that they will ever matter
all the while consuming so much time that
the sight and subtlety is lost in a thoughtless mire
that same thoughtless mire
where you dug up a wretch such as myself.

I'm learning lot's here.
learning how to subjugate others
by being subjugated
as we master the rationing of our suffering
understanding the deeply held expectation, there is no location that is acceptable
we cannot even be.

it is this deluge of coping mechanisms
this dilution of self that seeks to make us more fluid and hard
like some kind of metallic liquid
that flows and slides
filling the cracks in our already overly-hardened psyche
in the hope that it wont be annealed.