its not all ho and hum but somewhere between yin and yang

i've gained a ghost

i cannot pinch myself awake

i dare not dream of a step forward

as the mind has gone blank

the chalk board is rusty

it no longer shows white or color or

diagrams of dimensions of variously vacant dreams

if i was to palpate my growing belly of indifference and domestication

i would grapple with the pig like entrails of sloth like insolent jestering

i can tell a good joke

i can whistle a good tune

i almost wrote a song yesterday

but pieced together

the last remnants of the supermoon

i am only basking in its glow at the foot of my porch

with blue lights grasping onto branches

i can breathe in my depression

i can cry until the sun rises

but shed no tears

i have been drained by the squidlike

vampires of the Pacific Ocean

i have reigned over a world burnt to a crisp and 

sifted through its ashes

i have inhaled its good fortune and now know what a fully realized man

once was

but now he just shouldn't be

i have given into the sin of singularity and felt it the normal

progression of the modern American male

my knuckles can only drag on the tides of centuries

and my brain swim from my ear remembering

its noble quest for knowledge and truth

now i've just given over to a placid stare as

emaciated pigeons feast on my fleshy face

i can only see grocery aisles

okay it's on ten/

left hand side/

12/

right hand side/

under digestive/

no, you can take it with that/

no, i cannot refund you for the cosmos

or for the birthday you are celebrating

for the first choice you could

never actually choose

oh, to sit loose with the rumbling atoms of 

grey mattering more than some flattering

picture posted online and tagged from the get go

i am the Friendster addict

i am a Limewire search engine 

i am the IRC red flower blinking 

on your TANDY 1000

i am the remnant of what was good

and now am the reminder of what is bad

i am the haze and fog glowing in the distance

while the hum of cars and battered road kill rise

above it like fleas and ticks swarming a man's testicles

i am on my knees groveling

i swear if given another chance

i too can feed on the afterbirth and douse it in the honey

taken from the combs of bees harvested over the inversion

of universal truth

in fact, i am truly lessening the blow for my little one

so she can comfortably know what a fuck up one can be

at any one time

with no concern for consequence

i am now handcuffed to mediocrity at high tide

my lungs are asthmatic and my hives pustule 

i cant break free from any of it

i cant be anymore than the talent i could once become

and honed to save something

maybe even the idea that i 

could actually harbor 

the past in the form of

a ghost

the colors of life

are entering

ominous

passing

thru

my

eyes

particles

of neon infinity

start at 2:45

the words are taking flight

their mixed messages coming 

from a loop in time

and i'm coloring outside the lines

chorus

and i'm crawling thru

i'm crawling thru to the other side

the best in the moment

is the year we had

it's the striving for a mission

to unearth our depth

to breathe in the struggle

and embrace its pain

its to feel it crawl all over

progress to another plane

of existence

may you

find

peace on the other side

embrace every weakness

let it become your strength

live in self reflection

learn to forgive

intimate settings

live and live 

and i'm purging out my final cry

watching dove tails flutter into the starry skies

and the infinite truth and I

are crawling thru,

and i'm crawling thru

to the other side

In neon/light the fire right from under my eyes/ I've been long slayed upon the white walker flames held under layers of night stalker ice/I've grazed with an infinite gaze far beyond the reaches of time/I've seen books encounter factories speaking thunder right from under toe nails and knife/I've carved out niches left as barren holes in the middle of the heart left behind/in fragments/paved/in honor and grace/will you face the boogeyman left waiting beyond the night watchmen gate/ Or sigh/to only meet a harrowing end of sight

the universe has always been this elusive shadow crawling over kiddy bedroom walls watching uninhibited curiosity in a dream like wonder traversing the prickly undertow of cosmic space infinity.

our origins are but burning beings fenced into some vacant block of foreclosed homes, its streets truncating reality, leaving a completely ridiculous answer coming from the cries enticing only revolution.  

and the drunken amnesiacs wake up in a labyrinth seemingly still and incapable of interpreting the galaxy's answers of trilobite tranquility, while vicarious street lights peer down and melt their own waning omnipotence.  

 while empty streets, boarded up restaurants, abandoned markets, and other vacant book store ghost fronts disappear and reappear.

its quite possible this has already occurred before (to me? you? she? we?).

no one knows anything more than the angry child casting and bronzing meaningless animals into more or less important species for eternity, more or less morally humanistic linguistically, more or less an honesty impossible to surmise in any kind of way.  

don't we all phase in and out of character?

don't we all complain about the outside world locked in a cloistered closet?

don't we all wander into the moon light's jaundiced enclosure with dew soaked blistered toes, soft and milky, following footsteps to an astrologic feeling of truth.

or aren't we all marbles carelessly propelling eons of expanding energy in a few words per minute?

are we not so nascent anymore but just as consumed?

maybe there is no point or reason for this to exist at all.  

hipster types are sucking on cigarettes exposing themselves to brief nano-pharmaceutical quasi-technological monstrosities swarming inside their confused, brittle minds, imploding as they vibe on beats, an electro sludge whirling thru their desperately engaged craniums, to replicate touch thru eccentric microbiology, to fill the void left by an actual soul.  

it goes without saying that as the fog brews the coastlines, its soapy fields turn from gray to black, smothering homogeny, perfectly aligning themselves to default point zero, the swirling madness creeps down the streets crawling thru the neighbor's front door,  the caustic lightening shuttling back and forth into its tendrils,

see the darkening clouds of drooping eye demagoguery?

the victim waits in his room staring into the Monolith, a trance-like life-like kind of existence.  Only a victim of circumstance, he rummages through vats of bioinformation lost out in the web,a needle in a hay stack, his ship had cracked and sailed thru electric seas for many suns and moons.  stuck with an albino albatross stuck in a flickering program gone bad.  

his hands are insulating atoms for fear, for power, for freedom, for a comfortable homeostasis amongst the lab rat running in circles, chasing its own tail, shocking itself to dose and dose and dose until his lathered tongue is dripping from the spout of vibrating water bottle neon pink think tank swirling liver shark swank crippled lips crinkled crank other worldly affair resuscitation vibration enigmatic sensation vacation bay water paddle prison key ominous osmosis. 

his quill became only a blur of movements across the page.

his fingers molesting the keyboard.

his flourescence, a vapor slithering & trailing the image of an evolving drug induced euphoria.  

inhaling, snorting, injecting, ingesting.  

fucked up fantasy video games spewing their bright lights,

pulsating pornographic signs,

sixth sense and sight,

sentient streams of constant outpouring of self centered information drowning out the inside voice, the self reflection, the mind scrolling across the page reinventing itself, not lost in devouring biased information, but regurgitating cowardice and emergent tabloid tomfoolery, gossip entrails slithering across the floor like zombie organs.  

something in the distance.

it is there, it is calling, it is a vibration underneath the cackle of mallrats and housewives and burning buddhas. 

fingertips are gateways to sensations of altered reality, touching their retinas lightly, cosmic vibrations that somehow wince at our own irrelevance, whimper/bellow/grappling about how we have become monetary morsels for blubbering, sycophantic opinion-oids hopelessly preying on the people's inherited prejudices, a dagger stick along the side of his prick to the prat skipping along a bridge across into the existence of everything everywhere all at once.

she is calling to he, he is calling to he, she is calling to she, they are busy drinking the caloric saccharine waste of we.  

basic messages of binary language wander across their periphery. contact lenses implanted in retinas.  reptiles congregating miles from the shoreline lost on the last isle of mysterious misspeaking and other sorts of missionary misinterpretation, their scaly tongues are fork figured, pitchforked, a quart of transplantable heretic blood lines, with sirolimus spirling into the arteriole spaces, vacuums, microscopic spacemen from cellular RNA landing, the Hermes of all creation rapping, the helmet coming off, the hair is long, the breasts are supple, the cock is hard and throbbing.  

evolution is fuck. the institution is prostitution.  

 the free market exchanges are universally connected conversations of consumption with one currency binding the planet as one, one son of a father in the middle of the galaxy.

no where to be found however. he resurrected and pissed off.

What did it take for the victim to go there?  How much truth did he have to spew to find the elements of gospel lying only within the paralyzed nervous system?  How could he connect beyond this earth, beyond this linearity, how could cross the abyss and speak to the humanoids around him?  

he had lost all emotion.  It was all so hopeless.  He stared into his room for hours touching nothing, not his heart, his penis, his brain, his emerging senses shadowing his former self he had usurped and suffocated.  

With only a few glimpses of his heart, he was weak, he gave in, he sold every part of himself to have this conversation.

she was only a figment of his sultry imagination, power hungry and sex charged, lusted from afar imagining every possible delineation.

sacrificing themselves to witness the truth inside the borne freedom from basic observation. 

could this all possibly be?  

They, we, he, she, pissed off, time hoarders wasting away fictional time after time after time.  

Non-linear parabolas spiraling daggers into lung, punctured, pressure increasing, homeostasis fractured, oxygen diminishing, heart stopping, fingers quivering.

and there he turned to his small window, these new thoughts befuddling him.  

a flame of flickering self doubt in the minds of all the modern humanoid mannequin mistress masters.

her hands are now outstretched.  her hips swaying to the beat around its windy branches of absurdity, her mind feeling for the heat of another lifeless body left to the in the dead of winter.  

the night, a breath chasing its own tail under the starlit skies.

we could only be the on truth of the now, nothing more, nothing less.

so the he decided he must swim to it.  

framed perfectly off yonder amidst the fog.

a drizzle rain mixed with icy wind freezing his figment of imagination's perfectly furnished face.

eyes on the future trying to retrace his steps.

the chips had fallen where they may just like the gateway to the center of the universe was randomly planted upon a distant wayward island.  its shoreline was paved with animal and human bones.  stepping upon its sands, one could only find human teeth lodged within its granules.  his eye had no purpose, he just stared off into the abyss.  this destination was merely a coincidence.  it happend.  his feet were torn of flesh of toe nail, his hands severed from the grimy crawl upon its absolute absurdity when you knew what lived only a swim away.

 he feels possessed. the red suit pressed silk lying as it could only be.  within him. around him.

these are all steps on the borderline of fact, the presumption of truth, the absence of all spirituality left hanging from the noose of the beyond. beyond tragedy.

calls of careless banality are heard from the shore, there may be beasts scratching each others faces off while simultaneously feasting upon their own disgrace, a mother monster tasting the brains of her cub to appease her schizophrenic hungers.  

he must perform cunnilingus on the fortunate to receive the benefits of immortality in heaven.  

but God never tasted so good.

he could see a way to put ones hand thru the wormhole and move to the other side. to live in another world.

it must be there and

there must be a way.

from his window it seemed forever away.  the fog crawling across his periphery, it was like the glow of a sunset on the horizon.  west or east, it eclipsed any compass or direction.  it was a focal point he could not shake.  but she, the woman lying upon its rocks, was waiting for her champion.  a different type of hunger stemmed from within him.  it raised his heart rate,  the unknown before him was like the sexual creature luring him from his cold, but colorful room.  he leapt across its divide to the walls glowing with the infinite information exchange carried on within the interweb.  he put his head against it.  he opened his mouth to breathe in the epiphany.  the slow whirl and the waves of opinion cycled into his psyche, he could only stare at his fingers.  all the answers, but none the closer to knowing what if all there is was simply this everything or could my answers lie underneath it all, a current of metaphysic majesty propelling us forward to some unknown future.

he could only imagine his homecoming certain upon landing, the rocks on his bare feet carving in its eons of destiny, collecting, growing, finer, then smoother, opaque, moving from a grey shadow to a white sand, sifting through the toes of living creatures unseen by human kind since it crawled upon the shores, onto its knuckles, and above its own feet.  

imagine himself reflecting in a wade pool of ancient coral, crabs shimmering through the sunlight swimming in its energy.  

he saw himself framed on the shore, climbing its hills, lush, emerald, creatures of unknown origin derived from Darwin's journal, millions of mutations running rampant and in control of the continuous spiral of energy transfer.  he was standing over it, flight goggles from some 1950's WWII movie enveloping his crystal blue eyes, he was swimming not in the ocean but the beauty of infinity.  the seas carrying over the cliffside.  

his clothes were now torn.  he sweat and swore the world he had inherited without any choice of his own.  

there was simply no reason for all of this to exist.

the chips had fallen where they may just like the gateway to the center of the universe was randomly planted upon a distant wayward island.  its shoreline was paved with animal and human bones.  stepping upon its sands, one could only find human teeth lodged within its granules.  his eye had no purpose, he just stared off into the abyss.  this destination was merely a coincidence.  it happend.  his feet were torn of flesh of toe nail, his hands severed from the grimy crawl upon its absolute absurdity when you knew what lived only a swim away.

 he feels possessed. the red suit pressed silk lying as it could only be.  within him. around him.

like future phantoms

crawling thru 

dimensions of time

its a future furnace

we're cursed to learn this

the truth is surmised

if you don't want tomorrow fool

just cover your eyes

but you own those villanous

eyes

your

eyes

your eyes

just open

open

your eyes

your eyes

your eyes

just open

open

your eyes

your eyes

your eyes

if you don't want tomorrow fool

just cover your eyes

but you own those villanous

eyes

let the man speak (1:07)

he must speak

or be spoken for

but you own those villanous

eyes

the future victims (1:22)

holding hands in a meteor's light

as the dark and blackness

silhouettes their

cosmic outlines

the vision is nigh

their taste is refined

as he burns the 

jury

justice 

query

cover your eyes

i'm

in-side the panoramas

floating in time

i grasp at every existence

yet

i'm tangled in vines

he speaks to me of

a grid, a purpose

from the listless 

ocean 

waves

it's sublime

i grind

into specks

blossoms of

spirit trees

Let the man speak

he must speak

or be spoken for

If I can see tomorrow girl (2:18- fade in)

just cover my eyes

if you don't want tomorrow fool

just cover your eyes

you are those villainous eyes (2:39)

Let the man speak (2:50)

he must speak

or be spoken for

it's existential

crave neon light

repeat the mantras

chant into night

forget superstition

as intuition

we wave good bye

to our reason or right

truth?

irrelevant!

speak your mind

with a thousand daggers

we carve the signs

into our chests

the blood boil death

we

glowing under the UV lights

and we'll be fine

and we'll be fine

Inconsequential

to examination

Combusting heart

self activation

heed your youth

no resignation

heed your youth

no resignation

Perceive/Pursuit

your imagination

Dissect/Infect

your confrontations

heed your youth

no resignation

heed your youth

no resignation

seven verses spoken to me

neither awake or in dreams

but we'll be just fine

all is there to grasp now, so breathe

echoes in electronic seas

and we ride through night

into the magic of the living inner wayward space

the haze of futures press on rattled sutures at an epic pace

around the ankles arms 

no other harm

to embrace that fate

we're churning microscopic cities

into a brittle paste

and we'll be fine

we'll be fine

You are those villainous eyes (0:05)

like future phantoms

crawling thru 

a collective hive

a future of furnace

you think we'd have learned this

the truth is surmised

but if you don't want tomorrow fool

just cover your eyes

but you are those villanous

eyes

your

eyes

your eyes

just open

open

your eyes

your eyes

your eyes

just open

open

your eyes

your eyes

your eyes

if you don't want tomorrow fool

just cover your eyes

But you are those villainous eyes (0:55)

let the man speak (1:07)

he must speak

or be spoken for

But you are those villainous eyes (1:17)

the future victims (1:22)

holding hands in a meteor's light

as the dark and blackness

silhouettes their

cosmic outlines

the ending is nigh

the galactus is maligned

as he burns the 

jury

justice 

query

open your eyes

i'm

in-side the panorama

floating in time

i grasp at every existence

yet

i'm tangled in vines

he speaks to me of

a grid, a purpose

from the listless 

ocean 

waves

it's sublime

i grind

into specks

blossoms of

spirit trees

Let the man speak

he must speak

or be spoken for

If I can see tomorrow girl (2:18- fade in)

just cover my eyes

if you don't want tomorrow fool

just cover your eyes

you are those villainous eyes (2:39)

Let the man speak (2:50)

he must speak

or be spoken for

 had an idea for a video.  Pretty simple in that it's one family.  The family is depicted in two extreme settings.  First Fam is in the suburbs, on the couch, going to church, father goes to work at a prestigious  company or a lawyer, kisses his wife, fast food, ipods, TV, mostly feature interactions in one location.  Second family, is like a complete hippie opposite but its the SAME family, gardening their own food, mohawk on the kid, mother/father go to Burning Man, happy.