I’m Triaxial,              
In geometry,          
This X, Y, and Z…              
Caged by coordinates–          
So planar, unfree          

And time’s forward flow,          
Just won’t let me go,                
It’s sometimes too fast…  
Then, relatively too slow  

There’s a down direction,              
That pulls with oppression,    
Gravity’s fixed force–      
A constant compression

When force is innate,
I’m stuck at it’s rate,
Sunken and buried,
By pressurized weight

And, in this void,
Nothing’s destroyed,
Change is the constant,
From which all is deployed

While my perception,
Is a small projection,
Of fundamentals,
Below our detection

I myself am just an extension
Of laws beyond comprehension…
I’m suffocating, blind
Stuck here, in this **** Third Dimension

It lies within—
In your deepest quiet place.
Stir the rivers of your soul
Till oceans rise
And break their bounds.

No being lacks a gift,
No soul without endowment—
Each formed with purpose.

Let passion's quiet flame
Unfold dimensions unexplored;
From steady drops
An ocean forms,
And skill, when honed,
Will crown the work with beauty.

Close your eyes to blind applause;
Open them to the greatness
Seeded in your frame.

Shine—
Till your very presence
Reveals the Perfect Spirit
Living through you.

I refuse to listen to the self-harming negative talk in my mind.
I keep refocusing my attention on how I want to talk to myself instead.

You notice…
The light bend in your seven *****
as your thumb cramps fidgeting.

You notice…
The small tear she wears on her fishnets
as she glides by, reloading your glass.

Your notice…
The couple celebrating across the labyrinth
as you hope–and swear–you’re up next.

You notice…
The way the gentleman smirks
as he unfurls a loaded hand.

You even notice…
Your eyes now have to squint
as you move your jeff cap to shield
the rising sun.

It’s pulling upwards,
bleeding its colors,
spewing its rays
as it sears through
the lonely window.

But with your anchored gaze,
You don’t notice it at all.

and so i look into your eyes,
as i melt slowly
I started to realize,
all it carry
The full form of your vice

and so i played with your game,
what you call
a rules of flame
i knew it, i know it
Its full of lame.

playing with me dear
Is not the dumbest way to hurt me
Ive been there,
and i know
how to win that game

He walks slowly
As if he is about to pounce?
His lips move as if

Words should be

Pouring

Out

But no sound
Comes out

They say he's a Freak but
No one dares to say “hi”
They just cross the street
With cautious eyes.
His hair is greasy, dark, and thick
And his clothes seem to swallow him whole

No one has ever heard him speak
But he carries a notebook-
Its worn as if
its lived too many lives
No one questions what could be in it

But

If they opened the book
Did not cross the street
They would read of his service in the marines
Say “hello” for the first time
When they eventually close the book


They would understand.

Feel safe here and now. This is enough.

Foam lines move outwards

From oars that pierce stillness

Spreading just to fade.