I don’t care if there’s not a reason why.  
I’m going to fight until I find one,
or just make up my own.  
I’ll be my own God.  
I’ll write my own myth,
create my own universe,
proclaim my own reason for being.

grey snow rushes at me
just how the world would be if i
understood it. the sky
is spread out, mystified, as if
i read its hieroglyphs
and from them gain the gift, the one
guidance long forgotten,
lest it pulls us undone. i read.

the mouth of the wide vortex is in esse,
made of the same atoms as flowers and
oceans, organs and soundwaves, it demands
physics, laws, follows them with faithfulness
just like one of us. nothing more nor less
is it, no great power does it command:
in disbelief we shoot it from our land
back to its ‘place’, no boundaries transgressed.
how could we believe in those new places
viewed from the jaws of the living threshold?
that it’s all like our home, all vast and old
and developed. if we just go into space,
the secrets we long for would then unfold.
with care, accept the vortex’s embrace.

What is quantifiable are the symbols. What isn't quantifiable are the zones between the symbols, unless there are many symbols present that form spaces.
There are partial symbols, i.e. a gesture of an animal is present but not the form of the animal.
Reality stays more abstract with partial symbology.
What is known about the symbol gives reality meaning.
Speaking of visions as symbols separates the meaning from the visual experience.
The person who doesn't see the symbol as the reality has not been exposed to reality which is somewhat hard to ascertain.
When, in dreams for example, there are just collages of things, it is hard to say that it is more than a collage. But if I recognize symbology, it allows me to see every part of the picture.
Symbols are more for the artist than the scientist who simply wants to verify what happens in reality. While transcendent of verification of meaning is reality "filler", yet it attains to meaning only if it is seen as symbol.
The filler is more abstract because logic only exists here if we consciously give something meaning. Otherwise a huff of a dog, for example, is merely a passing image.
Since concrete objects already have existential meaning, they cannot constitute as filler.
Visions, because they only partially exist, calls into question existence itself.
In filler reality, it becomes participatory as to giving reality meaning or just enjoying the visions.
What separates this filler world from normal mind is that meaning is no longer the key to reality.
Simply experiencing the visuals explain reality in an easy way.
Meaning almost ruins the mode of experience.

He woke with a dream in his head
And dreamer’s intent
Got a taste of the pace in the world
And doubled his step

He shared that old dream with the world
But no one there cared
He thought about the weight in the world
Saw the time and fell back to bed (with his dreams)

Wanted to be heard so he sang along
He sang an old song so he might belong
When the world didn’t care what he’d sing
He tore out his hair and started to scream

And he screamed:
“I’m too young to die
But I won’t always be
I tried so hard to comply
Now I’m not even me”

And he screamed:
“I’m too sad to cry
I’m a bird lost at sea
Today makes me so afraid of tonight
What does anything mean?”

And he screamed and he screamed
As if the world knew

I wish I could fit myself inside a bottle,
that travels across oceans
sailing off with the message,
earth is not home
anymore
and that I'm better off,
living in this beautiful irony
of getting by
with the swelling, and the panics and the wild spasms
of the waters—

the only place
where I could
never
drown.

When I first heard the word
existential
I thought “Ooh that’s posh
perhaps I’ll pepper it in conversations,
Bosh! and figure out later
what it means.”

Twonk I was, I only slowly
saw the word existence hidden
in the cleverness of syllables
and then I thought I got it

But not until a maw
began to daily swallow
more than a thousand souls
of families and carers,
teachers, truckers, nurses,
loved
did I become aware

And I was scared.

Not just life being lost
but existence
the whole ****** swirl and fanfare
of little faffs and laughing drunken,
first chuckles, first kisses, first footsteps,
Sunday roasts, broken hearts and ecstasies

The nail-clutch of my anxiety
floored me
but underneath an ember burned
and a fire-question unfurled and grew:

How did we let this be?

i like to imagine myself trekking across
a great desert, or tundra, or wasteland,
and it’s dark but the sky is glowing
with stars and the sun on the horizon
and everything is that beautiful natural violet.
there is nothing for miles and miles and miles
and in every direction is the same thing.
i walk over hills and through ditches
but in the hugeness of the landscape
they are nothing, and it’s still wide and flat.
i wonder and i dance and i shout at the sky
and i flail my arms around and trip over
and i yell and grin and shake to the stars
and to the space beyond them, that infinity.
i tip my head upwards and smile to
infinite amounts of infinite things up there.
i am confused and i am lost and i am scared
and in all of that i’ve found the most joy
that is even possible to be felt.
i scream at the infinity in a friendly way
as if i’ve figured out its secrets,
as if we’re on the same page.
i thank it and i laugh at it and i scold it
for everything that i feel and know and am
because one of the infinite things up there
must have given it to me,
whether it knows it or not,
and i feel safe and tiny and fleeting
and i am so happy to be the
tiny second of useless time and phenomena
that i am.