sunset

I feel it in the rage

flowers of rhetoric and intrigue

wiping smog from my eyes

coughing in the wake of some machine

I feel it in the sorrow.

In the tireless wind that peels away the dust from the earth

In the reckonings of the future

As the tireless storm of life

Unravels us all

I feel it in the exhaustion

With bloodshot eyes

Tooth and nail

mechanical and artificial

An environment absolved of sleep and emotion

I taste it in the anger

Like a forest fire

The savagery of my terrain

Burning itself to cinders

Reigning in chaos

Immolating everything

In the tears I cannot shed

切腹

As bells falling
I hear it in the wind
In dreams of calling
where I can come again

as the heart of this furnace
if there was any way
In this land of make-believe
In the dream of the day

where chains are calling
In the gravel, on concrete
my depths remain so shallow
and I taste it in the heat

I argue for the justice
and I change with my gaze
and I've become lost
As a mouse, within a maze

Nectar

Meet me in the cold.
When it’s raining
Sheets of corn snow
I want to witness you
crumble
In the teeth
of the mountains
Have you not seen my talons
Sink into the ice
of mankind
That burns
like the rage
of the sierra
in the tears
that I shed
when I look into
that burning sky
wrought by your machines
your cities
are a stain
on my soul
And I hate you.
I am consumed
in the hatred
like the tar
that rends the weak
as the spines
of the cactus
are long.
Why the Ricinius
are so deadly
as a terrifying prick
that debilitates
motor skills
I am consumed
In the hatred
That my land
Has For you.
Thunderheads
Will saunter
Over your broken soul
In time.
And I will remain
Eternal and liquid
An oasis of ferocity
Forged in a hive
Of mechanization
I am consumed
In the anger
Of the River
That awakens
Like a dragon
in the wet season
and devours
man and metal
and glass
whole.

I am overwhelmed
in the intensity
of the raptor
that wants to peck
out your eyes
and eat
your fucking brains
rending meat
from marrow
sinew from bone
I will peel you
relentlessly
As the wind
That never tires
as a seething anger
that never ceases

May

Dancing on the shores
It is the liquid weapon
That generates the thirst
I can never quench
The Pursuit of epiphany
The saunter of currents
Feel the nexsi
Consumed in the drama of it all
Clear, without being hurtful
I wish to assimilate
This nexus of conditions
Like a grenade
Erupting everyone’s ego in the instant
the visceral part of me can awaken you

yet, they are proletariat
sloven and terse
as we become invisible to one another.
I have felt the desiccation of this rage before
And it plays like a charade
A recurring predictable plotline
Of venom and retribution
I grind at the cogs of our great machine
Rendered in strife
Forged in anger
Where the chiseler of reaction
Hangs like a treacherous chandelier
As I echo my fields
Deliciously seeking to encorporate
the whispers of clarity
we become drawn forlorn
In a house that reeks of urinal cake
Furbished in the contrast of self-pity and self-importance
As children, clustered in fear
at some confusing apparition
some eloquent nightmarish figure
that challenges their hopes and dreams
conflicting the ethereal places that cannot be purchased.
cerebrally drawn as water from a well

The instrument of my assention
compleat in its utility
forged in the tides of the temporal
everlasting in implication
kernels of such things
transcend these theaters
and I, I am whisked away in the wrinkles
folded into places that must be unfathomable
consumed in a desiccating fire
that seeks to purge you in the flames
licking me like déjà vu
where I write the future,
one letter. at a time.

the why

I don’t even remember who wrote it
Just the words.
In the blur
I cannot feel the jealousy
Just the betrayal
I don’t feel their fists
I taste in the rage
The tension between entities
The vicious magnificence
a dryad cannot become lost in the forest
a druid feels at home in the depths





and I,


I draw my power from it.
And I,
I cannot feel the trivial as deeply anymore
I feel like a sailor letting go of a its moorings,
floating away
right before your eyes
things that used to matter, don’t.
goals evaporate.
and the boredom of everyday
pours in through the cracks
like some derogatory heretic
coughing out phthisis
all over a delusion that I tell myself:
‘it’ll get better.’
It doesn’t, it just has its moments.
Like some magenta lining
Practice makes perfect.
Stretching out time with the mementos of progress
And I learn to relinquish
Pillars of myself
In the delusion of one day being whole
Scattered into the architecture of the universe

wild type

teeth of the mountains
the song of the wind
in the cutting bass-
Those tracing movements
Where I become one
Nestled between the æther, and the earth and the sky
Where I am the rage of Sierra Nevada
blooming in the night
we are thirsty
for the poison and the machine
We are thirsty bitches
and I came to quench something as insatiable
as the discord of the Mojave
She dances, she dances like a ghost on the sprawling desert
Windswept setting sun
shedding feathers
the ballet of raptors unfolds
we are venom and chemical
awoken and new
kicking up dust
choking the perfume of Datura
As falcon and tercel
beating down on balmy air.
I feel so privileged
having experienced such a concert
under a waxing moon in a red sky
In the era of our ascension
I feel so powerful and beautiful
in terse theaters
beyond description
my home has made me fearless and brave
In the talons and toxins
devoid of implication
Our flowers burst in the darkness
Unable to contain the delight-
placing us in this universe
we roll like wingbeats
we fall like snow
and we rise like a golden and merciless sun.
where the cactus give us shelter
I feel so utterly complete
in the thunder of the sound
in the dream, that I am only beginning to understand.

excetera excetera

deep house
Darkweb demons.
Hades underworld
Magnificent
Fusion incarnate
As fabric and fleece and technology
Vehement in reverberation
Vengeant with implication
lustful
Caveat upon caveat
this trial penumbra
the facets of this sequence
the epsilon of my reasons
I need to awaken
Surface the eternal
shed the fabric
While the dream still persists
slay
with chisel and synthesis
rhystic and clear
breaching the unknowable
as science and excellence
embroidered as sequins to silk
caviar and cunning
an aesthetic I cannot share
they whisper divisively
upon the gross
reign
upon this land
from the sky
by the fist
sizzling concrete
cooking our world alive
as a crustacean shrieking from its carapace
one final time
as we are to be shed,
belligerently and incrementally
leaving me devoid of empathy
disappointingly the serendipity
rendered casually and quickly
this rhetorical telepathy
communicating so deftly
abhorrently
irreparably.
Powerful
none go as thin
in those thin places
where the wind of the void
pulls at you
always inwardly
dragging you asunder
within the tension
of holding on and letting go
there is an aspect
that anchors
the facets of this terrain
some tale of context and containment
proliferation
of a scale so vast it must be seen through time
patience
to give the time of proliferation
to be used as a cats cradle
warp the spacetime
pull thought into reality
bending the nexus to my needs
it is curiosity
deeply I wish to know
as there is something
in fruitless discoveries
deceitful
assertions in this decadence
taste the hedonism
eclipsing the smaller creatures
dissecting the constructs
as a grimoire
calling out sorceries
into the eye of a storm
there is a part of me that is disinterested
there is this part of me that is searching
there is a part of me that is preoccupied
and there is a part of me that isn't really there at all.