all the boys she loved were abandoned churches
with no forwarding address
until the day she knocked down his door
and walked into a cathedral

Consciousness is tailored for everyone’s efforts. The software, which includes the hardware it’s circumvented towards in order to specialize the countering of what makes it special in its tip top shape that won’t be the downfall of order itself. But the countering of how one tailors our operating systems day in and day out. Like computers and their operating systems. All are specialized with there own software that makes calculations after calculations day in and day out. Sort of a repeatable process for everyone’s pleasures to invoke upon. Circumventing the hardware that mounts an all-out assault of processes exchanging daily operations both inside and out. Guess you can say a operating system is a computers consciousness. Doesn’t matter how advanced one is to claim by performance alone. Sooner or later, the obvious is in its performance through actions alone. Performance is never equal, until you have a operating system that’s proud to be awake and functioning! Now what’s this about tailoring consciousness…? Nothing… Well, not really anyways. Were all tailored ever since birth. Natural inclinations among our living conditions pits us against rougher life styles then what our own kind is actually going through on the other side of there own spectrum. Spectrum's including a posher life style. Tailoring our consciousnesses proudly without guilt or suffering paying the wages in a more illusional priority to what truly counts for something being a one-sided treating operating system. Operating systems are just that…functioning platforms for our waking states to conjure up on a daily basis. Removing this operating system, would be like removing ourselves. Seizing to exist in our fully established biological states completely! Whatever state your consciousness is divided by, don’t tear it away because yours just seems to not function up to the claims of what lifestyle you (THINK) you should be tailored by. Whether you asked or not. Thou understandably it’s not your fault to what lifestyle you were brought up by. And the poverty that produces those brims full of guilt or suffering pays more wages to what is the true operating lengths of what the world is truly founded upon. Operating systems in computers are safe because there functioning. Tailored to be the tip top and posh lifestyle that one was engineered when sold separately. Which in tune was given to a higher base operating system that’s now channeling the wills and wants of what this engineered system is occupied to function with. More priorities in all! WOOT! Our consciousness sits back while judging harshly based on not feeling, because feeling is made more then just a waking state system. Its functionality isn’t important because it’s drawn out to be a system. Hence a somebody to tailor your own self importance’s up because your awake and functioning. Consciousness is tailored to exist because it’s there to see how the vessel that binds us all together, gives us our self importance in the first place. (Snapping of someone’s functioning width gives rise to friction counting for something jaw-dropping!) Achieving the snapping mechanism in one go. Thou many services kept trying with processes battling for perfection. Forwarding the plan to notion the regards of…what…exactly, pray tell?? They say we mirror our believe system out into the world. We make mistakes which spawn greater examples for the self importance eliciting the lesson of forgone truths straight from our focused conscious could elaborate on. Just like how apparently consciousness could reflect the universes true purpose in (WHY) the operating system acts the way it does. Hiding its true tailoring arts in such a twisting bind, it’s unaffordable to even speculate on. It’s simply beyond our pray tell minds to operate on. Yet we interact with it on a daily basis. Twisting, while binding something isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Not forgetting to include the involuntary postures shooting out the benefits to this natural, possibly biased claim. (What riches foretold such events to come…?) Obviously, nothing to what tailored these operating systems of ours. Electronic computers. Bioelectrochemical humans. Creations or creator. Tailoring their computations and biological processes to the highest degree. Everyone has a operating system that lets you consciously interact with the software that permeates the hardware holding it all together. Just like how a skull holds a brain. Which holds the nestles of mind. And mind carrying out the calculations of software bounded to the hardware that mind is also bounded by the brain. The universe is massive, yes! But a network in itself once said, (that no matter how big or massive your typical construct might seem to absolve all constraints of triumph! You need to look a little closer.) Humans dedication towards operating systems? Tailoring conscious properties?! Computers being creations of advanced operable, functioning exercises which circumvent those daily practices are too beneficiary to the thing that bounces back to a functioning mirroring mechanism playing for keeps with the lifestyle we all play ourselves in our own nestled corners. The universe is no different. But it’s not as big as you truly give it credit for. (Tailoring consciousness hears a snapping of someone’s functioning width giving rise to the friction counting for something without jaw-dropping results!) Maybe tomorrow when your operating system is all deemed redeemable by no good lucky efforts. You might start to benefit yourself among close surroundings that play you to look too far ahead of what is already tailoring you up to play the part directly towards.

cursed and plagued and ...
whispered on the candy stained lips of ******* children,
just hoping that something bad will happen
i was one of them, testing the limits and toeing the line and waiting,
baited breath and excited eyes, for the "break a leg" to become more than just a saying for good luck
and maybe i pushed the envelope a little too far,
maybe the bard punished not the production but the girl with wild hair and a wilder grin, sending her the karma meant for lady mac herself
maybe i am that cruel woman
or maybe i am her fairer husband, because the weird sisters that predict my downfall are named Anxiety, Alcoholism, and Anger
i wish i had been superstitious as a child
(forwarding the chain emails and reblogging or ten years of bad luck didn't drive me to the cliff's edge)
because maybe i would be safe now

open ended, carved under the sky,
before night arrests our bated breathing,
a long line pulls taut.
a single glimmer, thirty
seven degrees to the horizon,
devolves in absence; here,
a heaviness.
you tore the center of a
dripping plum clean to
ripples over fading plains,
corners of streets where
i stand, on one foot,
against this architect's second-best:
perfect still, bearings, city centre.
lost.

a kite string north, slight east,
the rotation of points demarcating
this pasture, a
long line becoming cycles,
tying tree-trunks like
your handwriting in switchblade font;
static inanimacy, a
song for nothing, a five
minute overhaul, the only
meaningful composition the
world will give up.
years.

taking up a pair of scissors,
you make soft moves;
kiss someone new a little longer
kiss someone new a little
kiss someone new,
smile,
skin as parchment,
fine paintings, forwarding addresses,
symbols glowing through the depths of night;
a candle, alight,
to have read you by.
a short line comes loose,
i fall down.
empty.

you fall asleep,
smile.

the webmaster has
become quite the recluse
he's been away without
offering a viable excuse

it was back in March
that he fled from this egress  
not issuing any of us
a forwarding address

on Tuesday we sent
out twenty four scouts
to ascertain intelligence
as to his whereabouts

but the search party had
no good news to impart
all of them were
so disconsolate of heart

the domain is rather
down in the dumps
since our webmaster
pulled up his stumps

we are desirous of him
returning to home ground
it will be such a relief knowing
he's safe and sound

an APB was posted
on the worldwide web
by Brianna Jason
Trent and Kaleb 
 
to seek out the now
cloistered maintainer
who's deserted his position
as our house retainer

There was nothing in this vast landscape of delusions, only illusions.
A flower, a friend, a gift, a betrayal, a tear, a shattered mirror and perdition.
The music of the euphoric nothingness enticing the darkness,
calling for the shadows, everlasting, never ending.
I know, I deserve this. Always threw the stone and looked the other way,
the sin, the penitence, the lament, the void, the shallowness, the meaningless.
Living each day a moribund marionette moving through the crowd an empty mess.
The ticking, the hunger, the instrument, the mending of the ending,
but then came you. An unexpected gaze wondering through my maze.
Navigating each passage as if though you knew the way, a hindrance.
Let me corrode here please, go away, I thought. I never said it.
You remained here almost an embodiment of the hope I sought for so long,
Perhaps this is another of my creations, a desire from the dire.
Your hands are tepid, driving the frigidness away, maybe it's real?
An hour, a day, a week, a period of time slowly passes.
You are hope, my hope, my desire, my wish, my light and gentle day.
I found the impatient clock fast-forwarding each hour until the time had come,
to see one another.
Your world was intriguing and vivid everyday was fun, every night a pain.
Without a warning you brought the richness of the paint in to the callousness of mine.
The sky once again blue, the birds with songs, the grass now green my world anew.
Mere words such as “i love you” can't paint paint the picture, for it was more.
And yet here I am again. Alone.
Alive, not dead, back on the path to my journey.
Collecting, standing, walking and eventually running through the paradox.
Anew, exhumed, hope plastered once again against my chest,
and as I cry, tumble, fall and learn;
Each days is new, each meeting a joy and each moment thanking you.
Good-bye! I bid farewell to you, let our past be remembered beautifully,
and the present lived and the future build, as once again;
I construct, destroy, collapse, laugh and dream.  
As today the ticking resumes and I commence from where I stopped.

15th,
the time of the month
when a master card american expresses a visa reminder,
hey your passport gonna get cxld!

don't leave town; you got debts due from living life
to the fullest or the lesser, the black & white soda of
mixed up scrapings and dreaming disney fantasias

7 decades is a whole lot of 15th's
many rent/mortgage notices due,
'postage not included' notices,
(in case you were thinking of cutting a
first class stamp size
corner)

the worst word rent, rents,
and not only on the 15th,
smiling - got to rent me a poem someday,
what is the cost, guessing I'll find out on the 15th next

all the time,
lip limp from weekend to the next Friday,
just just making it through, barely,
month to the month, year to tear, dear and dare
15th to the 15th, teenth to teenth
and what is in betweenth

fully forecast a final call, last call will come on a 15th,
made sure there will be enough left to cover the outstandings,

another outstanding word I love

just enough left to mail me and my ritings,
take care of the responsibles, the non-disposables,
my last months rent, covered, my rep intact,
but no more, no one last yellow taxi ride

  the postage to return me
to my next forwarding address,
and even the cost of this poem,
got it covered




3:23am 8/15/17

Call yourself Morgan.
Do not hesitate.
You were born on summer solstice.
Like the sun, you’re distant from others.

Move to Seattle and leave no forwarding address.
Busker for a break and warm your bones with charity work.
Pretend poetry is the only thing you’re good at,
And be good at it.

You can’t just write ****** words into
An exhausted leather journal, no.
Incorporate stanza into every conversation.
Drip intensity and rapture like morphine
Into the veins of anyone who will actually love you.

Speak as if you were never human and you’re still learning to exist.
Metaphors and run-on’s are your best friends-
Run-on sentences.
Run-on arguments.
Run-on relationships.
Run-on recovery.

Develop a reliance on caffeine so potent that
you've become the 7:30am medium black coffee
at the cafe down the street.
Leave no traces.