Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.

You have to take happiness for what it is.
You might be tempted to call it fraud, because it can seem insincere.
Happiness does exist, just not in permanence. Ever.
It is fleeting.
Coming and going like deceitful lovers.
But no, the feeling is there.
It might slip away like a thief in the dark. But it is there for a time.
Enough time to make you believe that life is conquerable,
That your worries are not so daunting.
Just to have the cord ripped away and reality sets in.
On a scale of complacency to desperation,  when did you find yourself reeling?
When did the harshness of life make you lose sight of any meaning?
Candles don't burn forever.
People don't yearn forever.
Change is relative. There's always a constant.
Whatever changes you conceive, are really just repetitions
Occurring on a loop of existence.
This reality has happened before
And you're stuck in a vortex of eternity.
Everlasting is the illusion that we'll catch a glimpse of an illuminated and enlightened existence.
But good doesn't exist without bad. No light without darkness.
And *******, does it get dark..
So elation, take me high, so high.
Just to suddenly drop me from epic elevation.
Crashing hard onto pavement now, you're humbled and removed.
Just sit and ponder you're quest for love and joy, and why you're so ******* undeserving of things that are good.
And why all the flaws of us humans just get in the way and destroy us from the inside out like spontaneous combustion.
Learn to accept them, or dont.
Some can be changed, but some wont.
What can you live with?
Who can you trust?
What can you fake?
It's all one big mind game.
And I'm just a piece on the board. Beginners luck is no more, and I am losing in the war.
Doomed to a series of misfortunes, and feelings of despair.
I look for peace of mind, but it's destined not to stay there.
Accept the impermanence.
Everything in your world is only temporary.
A moment, a feeling, this life..
Choose your temporary with care.
Soon it won't be there.

Is this the life you really want?
Meaningless meeting, awkward proceedings;
You cower behind your digital courage
In attempt to quench your thirst.

Is this the life you really want?
Bingeing a liquid just to prohibit:
Life, loneliness, and everything
From breaking down your door.

-

Where were you when he hit me?
Where were you when he touched me?
All these wounds they tear me down
And you insist to trust thee?

Overdoses, drugs, and ***
I'm comatose in my own skin
If you really are the vine,
Where has your lifeline been each time?

I'm reaching out into the darkness
Cause grasping sin is more than nothing
If you demand my love and trust,
Why are you so hesitant to show me something?

caress a ghost's hand to feel less lonely
undress her nightgown to feel her boney
structure and look into her eyes of ebony
what you cannot find within four walls
comes to you here, in your “baby doll”’s
presence, in waves of red light and calls
from people who prefer to think they missed
you but in reality theyve never felt rinsed
hands from blood that has stuck ever since
you raised them up high to struck a chord
in someones neck- only to feel a cheap sword
up your buttocks but not feel pain or sorrow.

The demon squirms under your touch.
The chair that was once possessed
by someone (or was it “something”?)
that could not move on from
their, old, familiar comfort.

The demon squirms under your touch.
Under your index finger, your ring finger
and the finger of promises
(that are yet to be fulfilled)
that is stuck in their plump limps.

(These plump limps are not to be on the
Same wavelength as you- In fact,
These pretty lips have been forced
to utter mumbled words of
ambiguous desire for your sake.)

You lay the (perhaps trusted) demon
On the train tracks, hoping for it
To lavish in the indicator
of sweet, fresh death.
Of Endless Blood.

The train comes.
The conductor does not stop.
The passengers do not scream.
The train goes for the demon,
Seemingly Deliberate.

The demon- it opens its eyes,
continues to breathe.

Regardless of the fact that its
Existence was woven exclusively
Because of your sins-

The demon weeps.

-

He weeps for heaven as he does not belong in your head anymore.
(He is real. He is an outcast produced from / a Heaven that has abandoned him and / now- you too?)

The train keeps going .

You, the Troubled Human, board the train.
(You feel something heavily pull at your / nerves and now you contemplate your / actions in opposition to the court room in / your head.)

You leave the weeping demon (dream)
(You cannot understand if the demon  is a  / dream and had / nestled itself deep in your roots.)

From where you stand, you see snow on its eyelids. You force yourself to kneel inside the compartment.
(The gesture is no longer an ode to the / demon’s Creator, for the Creator has no / desire to listen in on humanly matters.)

You pray for the supposed antagonist that lays its body, bare and vulnerable, on aged and ***** tracks.

-

Existence breathing in & out.
Existence that soon will bloom into ruby blood.
It slides from your scalp to your legs and to
the soil that birthed you
(Mother Nature listens in, whether she is  / proud of you or not, / you have grown to not to care.)
Existence, it tunes in & out,
For people that live on the edge
Of Nirvana.

Drums that are held by a ribcage are coming to
a promised halt, to an exasperated outro.

The demon (the Dream, the Ego) dies.

No one squirms for anything these days.

- Eoz

Come into my view.
Come before my gaze.
So I can see you,
through this thick, gray haze.

Through the illusion,
you pretend to be.
That makes me caution,
this reality.

To view the real you,
shouldn't be too hard.
Do you heal those near you,
or simply discard?

Does life hold value?
Is your word sincere?
Do your friends know you,
to hold them quite dear?

I care not 'bout looks,
height, weight, or your race.
All the lives you took,
can't be replaced.

No physical ******.
Only mental death.
When under fire,
do you care who's left?

Come into my view,
So I can see clear.
You do not want to.
It's the truth you fear.

My view's untainted.
My beliefs neutral.
I see the frayed thread,
of your betrayal.

I see the real you,
your imperfect soul.
Will you start anew,
with a new life goal?

Don't make deception.
I can see your lies.
Manipulation,
the hardest to try.

Come into my view,
either near or far.
Your sins though a few,
make you who you are.

Don't falsely live.
A lie all can see.
Change cannot outlive,
What you refuse to be.

This I write to you
From the deepest sea
Where the gentle swell
rolls the boat softly

For it is here I am left
To contemplate my life
And the choices I’ve made
That extol my strife

I made them then
What’s done is done
They’re mine to own
Each and every one.

But I am the product of
These decisions of mine
And I’d do them again
Time after time

And so, this I write to you
From the deepest sea
Where the gentle swell
rolls the boat softly

And all I can say is I’m sorry.
To me.