we enter the upper mind states. it has counted down to this. to this happening.
so my big frustration is that in my identity as a writer, I’ve let that identity and action within myself slip – in a big way. which saddens me. society is the soul crusher and is faking out even some of the best of us, forcing us to compromise and lose hold of our gut instincts and passions.
I realize my folly now has been to convert writing, my passion, into a hobby like how the sick with jobs that become their lives indulge.
the big love we have gets twisted, perverted, and squandered. that big true love gets poured down the drain.
and there is this man in assistant manager’s uniform always screaming he needs to break away for little league because he is a coach to various teams. this, it’s revealed later, is his addiction, and in this blind fury, he achieves greater states of control over others that his job would never provide. the man has childhood issues. the man refuses to admit his preposterous nature. the man is a serious asshole.
and there is a stench about me that is all apology. tears and bloody wounds gaping open in the relationship. out of panic I am trying to heal them myself for they do not really care for you in the emergency room.
a bike or whatever instrument it takes, when you are feeling in the need to mobile.
you can luxuriate within the paragraph, go back and tweak the bits. I’m sitting in Bangarang hypersensitive of interpersonal realities and the folds within covers where demons look from torment onward so incredibly jealous of me. I am too free to touch.
fires were set.
waters condensed from fingertips spit into
glory in the fragments
I never thought I would become
this close to the nature of things
(words cannot describe the song)
connecting the fragments back together for a moment at least – you can pretend like you don’t understand. I don’t mean to be cruel and the anger has been squelched within me. now you get to see passion. words to the masses. you’re living a really ugly lie.
the hurt of the earth and the people goes on for some time
you found me
here in the bed
the hex is broken
I’ve cut through
the illusory covering that’s
making everyone so docile
telling me and the world
and I’ve dispersed them
like playing cards
one by one by many
into the dumpster
dumpster diving kids
know what to grab
choose your energy!