A seeker of higher meaning
And a wannabe demon
What unites us?
The strange empty feeling
Nothing really
Something about the hardship of staying
Discrepancy between going higher
Or falling lower into
Dark as a pit in the belly of the void
That feeling you cannot escape
Smirking tickling uncomfortably
Squinting as I try to look into its colors
Seeking something to drive away
Overwhelmed panicky lack of sense
To feel complete content and concrete
What do I need?
Perhaps some presence perhaps a breath
Warmth or consolation
Perhaps some kind of heaven
Perhaps a gentle warmth of ****** tide
Or the volcano at the bottom of the spine
Anything is
Never enough or else pointless...
The deep well of chaotic darkness
Penetrates the vision
It's in the color of blindness
In oblivion of madness
In the dark starvation
The ever present dementors' chorus
Frustrated vibration getting the better
Of me of you of the kid who starts the war
Inside his mind inside her heart
Between the legs and within the
Ever leaking grip that cannot contain
All there is to possess
Now inside out
Splattered seeds of distraction and devotion
Striving starvation eager to be filled
By the crispness of green
The redness of alive
Numerous eyes stroking along the length
Of the ego's handle
The kind of pit... food will rot first
Before reaching the bottom
The kind of void oozing odors
Of unfulfilled and fallen
Or desperately giving to avoid
The emptiness of the void
And from that pit I draw the breath
And on the long exhalation I look
OUT
Into the world reflecting the light
Of the ever exploding
Surrounded by texture
Cradling this smallness of a body
And I put the first line on
The smooth white surface
As if a question
And the answer will poor out
Not through the answerless limitations of the mind
But through the hand
Holding this pencil

Flying around uprooted and groundless
Freer than wind from one ear into other
Constants are constant, all else shall pass
Consolation sufficient liberating thought
An illusion of an idea
Comes to my mind, no erupts and breaks in
Meaning that does not measure
To neither length nor color, temperatureless and bland... Idea
Thought... Lighter than air...
Yet feeling weighs more than a mountain...
Being a thought, an intangible substance of
External force overtaking the inner Galaxy ... How strange how lovely how refreshing
Like a fountain of nonesence so lively and warm so cold and greasy so sloppy and sad
So much in between so many layers and shades
All illusion yet more real than my skin

I believe in love, it's all we got
Love has no boundaries, costs nothing to touch
War makes money, cancer sleeps
Curled up in my father and that means something to me
Churches and dictators, politics and papers
Everything crumbles sooner or later
But love, I believe in love

I believe in love, it's all we got
Love has no boundaries, no borders to cross
Love is simple, hate breeds
Those who think difference is the child of disease
Father and son make love and guns
Families together **** someone
Without love, I believe in love

Without love I wouldn't believe
In anything that lives and breathes
Without love I'd have no anger
I wouldn't believe in the right to stand here
Without love I wouldn't believe
I couldn't believe in you
And I wouldn't believe in me
Without love

I believe in love
I believe in love
I believe in love

Stop for a moment!
slowly i pour the warmth of each
breath into every clenched and tense
fiber of my body
fear is dissolving with
deep awareness
my lungs expanding
taking in what the world has never failed to
provide that which i share with all the myriads
of living creatures in all parts of this
ever spinning sphere
the constance of breath and the slow
continued release
from the tips of my fingers
to the tips of my toes
the silky touch of air
the heat the cold the icy the humid
i feel it in my veins in my chest
on my lips on the tip of my nose
in the expanse of my shoulders
in the softness of my stomach
in the ease of my eyelids
engulfing me wrapping every inch of me
the gentle tinkling of the living energy
moves through my body
touching every inch arousing a feeling
of presence in this very moment
the only one that exists

Feeling trembling reverberating
Inside my chest in my temples
Eyes sore from trying to see
The world behind a heavy cloud of
Smoke emitted from burning
Of the past hopes foliage
Angst frustration mess of it all
Cavelike all absorbing darkness
Sipping into the pores
Is anybody here?
Can't see outside my mind
All a blur unfocused disorganized mess
Of a meaning, structure fallen apart
Windswept keepsakes
Pages into ashes
Graphite could become a diamond
But this painful moment
Is more precious still
And so I write

It's not the doubt that does it.
It's not the second thoughts
nor is it the insecurities.
It's not about the lack of trust
or the saturated lust,
it's not the natural attraction
or the ****** satisfaction.

It's just the sickening familiarity of it all.
The painful realization that I've been here before, again and again,
yet each time expecting something...

*...different.