leaving psychic breadcrumbs to follow back
home/out
again

sink-water upon my bristlerough  brow ,like deeply unearthed lime
weathered  to indistinguishable faulty
globes
precipitating across a.goblet-edge .a
rim-locked  look,
now
wet hair patted down
into model
behavior
and

situational sensation

styrofoam containers of the leftovers get stuffed in the fridge (after sitting out for too long)_as you crawl up onto the table//tugging your shorts justfarenoughdowntoyour.thighs
they
used to use stone altars.now we use mail-order scandinavian minimalism

home
     is
     a dark forest
     by the sea
heroism
      has
      been bred out
our hearts
       are
       next :

all hungers, tempered
(the serpent slumbers after feasting upon the whole of the world)




[you’re wrong,
[i’m
[shivering   .

soot-footed,we careen off the edge of our sea.scrying corrective endeavors     [seraph - lensed ;feather-wet]
     as the spire
becomes a
  d  
  r
  i
  l
  l

the existential violence
of closing the windows
.of
dumping the stale bed-side
water
into the sink
rather than the garden
.of
loving w/o finishing that long
process of loving adequately
or w/o adequate tempered
measure

to
       happiness
is getting so
        sick
of sadness and
        
       anger
that you can’t
**** with them
any            more                                                        .

emissary
     solutions
dissolve like tea
into too much
      water .
tastes        folded down
    into the back
corners of your tongue ,
scraping
molars   in mild annoyance

;magazine page torn out
and stuffed into
your shirt

for warmth
at the end of the world//

you flash a  smile_ or
is it a threat ?
and reach your hands
    down into
           your
          pants

we are collecting
preventative measures
             like assembling
       an
anthology
of misplaced
               tiles
in mosaic
memorandum.

if           we have a year
left,
if we
continue to postpone
              the
destruction,


art may
yet
retain its
artists

as artifice transcends
artifice




.

i'm listening to the crickets outside the window tonightfor the first t ime in a long time

frominside
  the heaving molecules
gargles,a new lament

for courage, they cry out
as electrons are forcibly
stripped_

leaving art-****
nuclei
in voyeuristic
[ display]
for hungry
magnetic mouths   to
                   s p li t

heels on the hard
bone
heels on the hard ground

tippy-pad
tippy-pad

hardwood-hurt
home.

.     humans
describing
      humans

unodysseus,      i had
               known
               t h e n .

blackened toe-nail lessons
found
at the bottom of the
door

thunder forecast;

mother of memory
living inside
the
globule-breath night

rail-gun
for
the cloudcover

two ash-trays
in love
pull out of the 7/11 parking lot
happy;
  and with the
     world at
        their
        heels .

do the jack-pines
know that they are going to die
when   the golf-course gets redone in the
spring?

do the amber utility lights know
the
fossil-records they foretell?


do the puddles count  the diamonds of glass
shimmer-trapped
in the
asphalt   there?

do the coyotes  call
eachother
by
name ?

humbaba-house
torn down
for ill-gotten cedar

and other spoils of
war

rot-gut mornings and the exiled king of []
digging through grave-heaps
like
searching through
drawers
seeking:
seeking:


trading
  manacles
           for
madman's
  manacles

The
New
Entitlement

Is to suffer no less than
Omniscience on
Demand


As wisdom
Wilts
At the
Root

cooking in the august irradiation

growing .

as music the fills hall-less, drifting assembly
of
[]ears

seeking, ever skyward, a pedestal to
****
from


demigods and demagogues.hum.with  the
white-hot vibration of  
          erasure  

needing to sting
like needing to
***;


needing to *** like
needing
   bread;


dis mantling   the
lapis-dark
shawl of the
           night

in search of
   the
hubris
    of
  other .

the world has spat itself inside-out
in the ******-flash of the
claim.

piercing thin tunnels of
flesh
through less-than-best-laid plans,
as if
laying itself were
virtue enough to ****
by






as the dishes
drip

in failed echo
of
the
windowsill


and
i,

glittering fangface
upon the instant spell
of


opportunistic .
encompassure .

my poor apple tree
precipitates into my red right-eye
as my saw carves tough love
out of the torn branches of
sabbath’s
storm burst

shirtless shepherd, stormsail-hopeful
scumlove galaxies above to
sail
by

the radio tower tuned in
to my
legs
pounding downward into the
grey sand:transfixed
like a static
node in  
the
flail-winged embrace

as waves
   comprise

the multitude
swarm
of
unheeded prayers shot like
fugues
out
from the center
of
observation,

this
decomposing gemstone
coast


beacon.4the.undertow

the undertow takes time to notice
as each washing pulse
whisks away
more [glamorous, radiating shoreline]



. h/e.


if we
shall remember
what has been robbed,
it may yet be        
     reclaimed

hangs rigid on its chain from the unstrained hand of the cam girl.
her
pose places iron
before
reality;

her teeth are white veneers over a sugar-ruined core.


she is the tortured priestess, hiding
in plain sight as
           a
           demon :


she, the healer shaman -
but her bones have been
    scattered                too                       far


for psychic-cartography
to reach




i, the last king of the
dead :


my lungs, full of
spit and
deadlocked breaths between these quiet actions in a
still quieter
  war


/fallen
  into the hive heart-center,
caught and drowning
in the



cistern of discontent  .

clad in wonder
beside those iron lidded eyes :
blinking open like shifting tectonics
or
rusted gears
rumbling
below us

as we ready for the
p
l
u
n
g
e
.

.  []
in closed catacomb,

shunga-folds leaf into a starving candle
like offeringsas
officiates treacher towards the door


    ( )
    pooled-up thing at the lanky doorstep of
wildflowers;

   fern-moist breath through the hole in the
world.

   strangled gasp in the name of
historicity_











.

Expose yourself to things you disagree with
Disagree with things you are exposed to

Make decisions that are better than those who came before

Although that does not disrespect those decisions
Which served to get us
Here


To this place
In which we may name such
Navigation

i haul
stones from the castle to the wall
and back again

reshaping, sisyphusly
and
waiting for the

tangle like reasons.upon the hoary
forest floor.as pad-turned feet
s w e e p
across the
carpeted multitude of soft
spines discarded beneath us
/
/and until better shelters are found
/
these low hanging boughs swing like the
uncrossing of legs:and we are left shimmeringintheslimymoonlight

we
race.against the wheeling constellation-
fragment as it penetrates
the wind-caught canopy, engulfing us_and
we dare it to
tumble
down
like
a
prophesy upon our dream-concussed heads.



webs of sinew.trailing between our
teethy=mouths

like a trap for the
world.


like a hope-nest hunt.

and the rolling drums in yet deeper places
   gun down the
Night

Is dedicated
To
Those who have chosen healing over
Mourning.

The world needs you.

Your love is yours to
Give,
Tough - or otherwise.

the gate, we find,
is left unguarded-as
you
trace out your
glances towards me like glancing blows from fangly dog-mouth
scraping :
up and down
these
tired thighs of
skin


and greedy hands, we find,
are easy to
guide

there
  and
Elsewhere.

And as with all virtues,
The fanboys **** it up.


And as we come almost to the close of the
Show,
We see the moral of the story a bit clearer
Now :

It was just that they wanted
Love and protection
Love and protection, and that is all.

And if it were offered sooner,
It needn’t have been demanded, as the
Curtains fall.


Until next stage it set.
Until the next audience, met.

Until the work is made,
Anew.

it’s a tepid nectar
that now drips from these leather-winged amphora jars :

they circle, like harpies
down to us upon tumble-hot currents spinning off the face of the
earth




but there are subterranean cisterns
of something else

out there :


cool water
against us.


and my syrup-stuck lips are
dry
for
it.

curl


and you're
mine.

the saltpeter sea may yet swallow these
black-sailed ships

bleak obelisk .
reduce the risk.

and
swim.











[the power of i don’t know :  to the wielder, feels a burden - but serves as everything that keeps us from falling into Hate.]

but for the span of this
     /rolling/
        fall : we
may yet

shuffle.away
at the end
     of

      i
      t



p e t a l - s c u f f e d ,
yet
s t e m - s u r v i v e d .

What is satan,
If not the very concept of accountability, itself?
It would seem that those who are opposed to satan are opposed to accountability - seeking to claim the mind of god as their own.
In essence, they systematically claim godmind in all of their dealings, while supporting the veracity (and therefore, the justice) of these claims on the presupposition of a necessarily true external force.

It is the same circular definition which serves as the root to all of mankind’s greatest failures.

It is to say :

“I must be good because I invoke the name of god, which, by definition, is the very concept of a necessary, predefined good”

“Therefore my will and subsequently willed agency must also be good”

“As such, I should (and should be allowed to) do what I want, because I am good and my will is the will of ultimate, predefined good”


On satan, they say :

“My sins and failures are not my own, but rather the result of an external rogue agent who has influence over me and others via an unjust extension”

Going one step further, we may say that those who then rally against works of satan in this world will fundamentally make the following statements by doing so :

“I will seek to punish the punisher, as I myself am an extension of the agency of god”

“As I enforce the will of god, so too, must I become punisher of all sin-source”

Thus, in a uniquely poetic way,
These minds take on the supposed role of
Satan, himself -
In the name of god and in direct opposition to their own self appointed roles :
  


A true work of
Art.

And remember kids,
Only dead people can have acceptable ideas about the nature of our human lives.

:


And all the fads function as the cyclic wheelings, more real than the lowest common denominators.
And that plain way serves only as an anchor to continuity, never as a true path for exclusive modeling.

There is only one truth
And it’s hard to
Remember

And the young
May dance
And sing

While [we] can.
  


This mean world makes
Meanies of us all

and it was only people
trying .




and it didn’t matter what was
real,
only
what they believed with all their
hearts .

.(
(
swing like flower vines in the
sea-breeze face of the
cliffside

your hair
sells dancing glimpses of ancient
memory
there .

the shimmer-sailed ships
leave
the shore / /

:
is just fear of the unknown -

but it remains that only through
questions
that we can take any
actions
at all

i saw the bronze-age breathe
if,but for a moment-
as you

clove the earth
in search of

truth .


i saw the wet-winged
fall,
as the sun
dared us
down from
it
now .

inverted prism drops
shake loose
  from
   your
lens-curved glare//like
waylaid promises in an urban legendary
night

as
painted toes curl around their harpy-perch home.

as too, rests :
the
spit on your cheek and the
gun-metal.grey in my
hair


like cisterns without a
                           roof .

like the unnamed clouds
       behind constellations .


like a fool’s alchemic
                      love .

Alphabet rooms : each room one - two letters

All walls and ceilings covered in collage of illustrations and paraphernalia of terms starting with the letter

All themed around human sexuality

The hallways, small
And covered in monitors
Showing live feeds of camgirls
Housed in the units above

A deviant dictionary
A liminal space

She takes me there
There is another girl she knows in the hallway
She says hi
By

jokingly simulating an act on her in pantomime of what had played on the screen we just passed in the hall


Room stop
T

For thanks