my dreams
seem to me to be
pre-recorded capsules
eye-lidded and reelled
inside a time-ripple
magnetically recorded
and mooned up to my cycle
based on calender
remembered or recalled
randomly in
déjà vu’s awe:
reality’s rare
absence…
my dreams
seem to me to be
pre-recorded capsules
eye-lidded and reelled
inside a time-ripple
magnetically recorded
and mooned up to my cycle
based on calender
remembered or recalled
randomly in
déjà vu’s awe:
reality’s rare
absence…
i wear and bear my woe’s weights
like worrior’s welts
a sign of self abuse
where love lackes luster
these have been trying times
my head heald heavy
reality redacting facts
so the math won’t add up…
as far as i can remember
i’vee been self correnting
my demenor
ever invested in evolving
my current state and manner…
when a ripple rattles my memory
it takes a while for the
waves to wisper down through
to the tides…
good night!
love wasn’t the four letter word i placed before you anymore.
our faux flame burning as a lit torch no longer.
all mixed signals left unscrambled…
you began to avoid me like most do missionaries
not wanting to acknowledge or hear anything
a simple coward to expressing rejection
a mammary not a memory holding you back
mother’s precious son.
believe me i wanted to move on
to no longer be able to feel the weight of the
emptiness in memory left over from a once
imagined friendship turned
relationship turned into nothing
like ghosts only existed on b-sides of tape decks…
i should’ve believed harry when he told sally
that men and women could never be friends
because cocks always block
and cunts are all the girls that cum after…
trying to work towards
no help from family
ends in
sudden dependence
like all years
after high school
wasted
“what would you be doing if you were
back there?”
“working”
I say
11 years
seemingly wasted
on unexpected
mental illness
caused by stress
caused by
independence
caused by
retail hell
“hello can I help you?”
I’m an artist
who gives very good advice
(but I very seldom follow it)
now down on my luck
not making a buck
and hoping
“this resume explains nothing”
dreams are only
rapid eye movements
in exhaustion
from boredom
or somehow
work related
I claim the former
rather than recent latter
a day saint
can’t save me now…
i daydreamed i was in love once
it was unspoken
i was in real love twice
i was heart broken
i’ve been told i’m some sight to behold
but i’ve never been loved
for the reasons i love myself
and i’ve felt
i’ve gone unnoticed…
when is it love and when is it real?
people call out hearts like it’s no big deal
do only fool have hearts?
i don’t want to fall apart
anymore…
i’ve been keeping score
i’m 0 for three
and
the only person i’ve really impressed
was me…
eyes take the best snapshots
mirrors our cameras
life toying with our emotions
like lovers slave…
i behave for no one
i am not son
nor sun of earth
giver of life and rebirth
being un-afraid of the afterlife
death is just blood and guts
life is our breath
our words
memories nostalgic noise
of our neurons firing
for internal sirens
to sing and warn
our lives to live
despite dust
dirtying, toying or destroying
love’s lack-luster
luminosity
temporarily or permanently…
without curiosity we’d have
no cat, nor rabbit
just god’s bad habit’s
playing eye tricks in dreams…
we could all live
longer if things seemed
less impossible,
time is always adding
and subtracting digits anyway…
words, the universe’s
numeral orders for
men to follow without warning
women speak to beauty
in another language…
haunting their thoughts
even after grave
we all ask for our names to be remembered
and recalled before becoming bones
and dust under earth’s crust.
gods lie.
heaven is the earth we keep trying
to escape from…
not learning our lessons
with expectation our highest attribute
animals and mammals live in harmony with
their orbit
but death haunts humans
in our waking present
when time is now and the future is a myth…
“we are here on the earth to fart around,
don’t let anyone tell you any different…” -k.v.
each and every human being
is a different species…
a dying breed in need of
love and shelter when
shit gets all
helter skelter…
the old think they have control
speaking in tongues picked up in the wars won
but lied about to keep torturing kids in order
to fake win god’s war…
there is no sin
barely just an idea
birthed from earthlings
lost forever in this universe
created from atoms
not adam…
but there is still this eve theory that drives the ants crazy
hunting her down as the next to perfect woman…
when lillith and the lilim already replaced
the death’s evil dirt with lilies already…
so it goes, as you know…
let’s let the christians die with their perfect gods
in their own head lead to a perfect conquests
over the frustrated female persuasions…
for man who would reject a soul mate
which would not bow before his
unbalanced imperfections…
without earth there is no birth…
without love there is no dove…
swans hide their ugly from fetus so they can learn to fish, not fly…
evolution playing pretty bitch to men who wish to be wolves
and be hunted…
without egg there would be no rooster…
without crow there would be no pleasure.
woman with or without womb intact
knows biological instinct from fact…
man made god as our phallic fallacy
boring a boring hole in mental ideals,
worshiping organs whilst lacking love and lusting
for our sexual dynamics
with reproduction rage…
who needs egg before chicken?
evolution explains everything
only entertaining expanding atoms in adam.
eve is the clue not the burden…
the duo of doves dived dramatically
devilishly demonstrating their dynamics
was it really darwin’s pull
that dragged their nature to breath
or a dream left dangling
unfinished before death…
did you think it would all end in a dream?
contemplating the biology in your blood stream…
the seemingly endless trickle
that tickles through exit wounds
torturing even the toughest soldiers
if this is war, we’re rough at winning…
it’s all a hate machine
worry as washer and weight…
it’s hard to contemplate the ape
with all of humanities’ hate
not realizing nor rejecting the rage
inside you
created only to conform to kill
you bid farewell to all of life’s love…
(the death of the doves)
for me
it’s all nature showing off our bones
to hone in on reality
before the ice melts entirely
our genetics are lost to the
concept of time
while scientists prove
rhyme existed without meter…
haunted by a feeling
which resonates in me
as being a back drop
for a plot to feed my subconscious
during vivid eye visions
rapid-eye reenactments of
recent regrets
with a new cast
and dream set
revisiting feelings i would
love to forget
a feeling i loved
which now torments
haunting my senses
in rapid-eye movements…
my heart was wide-open
and i’m kinda hoping
i have a chance to close it off
before my
symbolic organ is reported
to the
hopeless romantic in me…
where it will once again be
pinned to sleeve
and prey for those
with the “love me”
disease…
whispers in winter…
cool air makes you desire
warmth.
the single heart swells…
kisses don’t make me
hot, but i like the
attention.
