spiral

We are spiraling
we are turning insideout from shedding snakeskin by biting our own tail
exfoliating facades revealing truths droping cloaks and lifting the veil
efflorescent gyrations - flowering concentric circles drawn closer
false faced insecurities paled, relatedness, closeness bolstered




A black hole this is definatly not.
benign vortex in which we are caught
Do we constrict, or yet expand?
towards oblivion we go hand in hand

the promise

You want to use me? Have me to expand inside you and diminish the emptiness that you are so afraid of by filling your tank with the substance of others? Excuse me but I am a single entity made from an agglomeration of parasites. I stand alone within my colony. I lay alone, I die alone and some of my many minions die with me. The others find new homes; abodes abound.

I adore to your movements with mine as symbiotic touch and engagement: you come I go sometimes we cross through the corridor or a few minutes after, we get a wafting of a familiar smell. It's good enough; the standing, the walking, the thinking, the smelling, the touching in imaginary space.

This is not vice.

I love the future.

* * *

Free will reinacted online

I think that I wear my weaknesses on my shirt sleeve. Exploit me just a little.

Getting out of bed every morning:

Tightrope walking may be symbolically the quintessential statement of courage and challenge but there is the daily defiance that though insignificant in grandeur and demoralizing in nature, is by far, the most virtuous in the most subdued and sublime of manner:

succomb to a ragdoll gravity
I lie on the floor

summoning the strength inside me
I still need more





pully-up pully-up
another day, another minute
another hour.

eat-up eat up
meal after empty meal
desires devour

morsel of protein and bone
I shlupp my organ meats
and ask for reheats
why so tasty why so good
because I know myself best
because I know myself a beast
I recognize this flesh
self-indulgent self loathing feast



I am brave every time I open my eyes.
And braver still when I don't shut them back closed.



I lash out at shadows in Platos cave.
It is all real no reason to question that,
assumptions are strong, This is my world as I perceive it

I am bravest when not believing.
I am bravest when I am exhaling.
I am bravest when I am chicken shit,
but look at myself and admit it.
I am no captain ranger, or an indian chief
I'm not much of a dancer or a guru yogi
I never finished school the way my fantasies told me I would.
I look rather ordinary and plain, but my "internal to me-free"-will can't complain
Burdoned with split divided will
what is free
divided will, free will only to a point

The prevalent stumbles are always
the letting go of the future and releasing wrongful acts
of the past.


I am brave every time I open my eyes.
bravest when letting go...






Are we, Are we just fooling ourselves?
with a weath of imagination
without drawing from realities wells
to rescue us isolation
painful lonelyness it quells?

Oh dear, what have we done?

.

A proustian revelation!

A proustian revelation!

This thought I am thinking smells sweet.
Like lovey dovey honey?
Um, more like wind and fire and burnt meat
more like skin and eyes and refusal of lies
more like a caress of truth layed gently upon you
more like fuck's all I know
the world and the world and the world turneth
and I smell an earthly moist piece
of revelation it's bigger than my body and
bigger than my brain bigger than an aura
maybe of uncertainty but revelation just the same.

A proustian revelation! An epiphany of touch or maybe sound?




Senses collide in a sweet synaesthesia of memories of the future!


This thought I am thinking smells sweet.




romanticly, electronicaly instead of with meat?
the charge is there I swear.


Living in an electronic world we create in our minds all the senses of the real world to augment what is realy just zeros and ones.

The only way to feel another through this electronic universe is through synaesthesthetic imagination. Go ahead, close your eyes, that is the only way to see me!
And what do you see? Isn't the imagination a beautiful thing?
I have become a mixture of truth and fantasy and I fit you like a glove.



Revelation I tell you I can smell it
and it's sweet
gone is the trepidation sometimes clad in bitter
liberation in fragmentation missing pieces always the most exciting
with trails of crumbs guiding for exciting
trips across the world and back
you can fit me in a backpack
heavy self burdon like an emotional knapsack?
carry the weight together my own flaws deriding?
insecurities shed as snakeskin secret lies wither
under the sunlight on honest expression
insecure statements blurted out with ernest intention
repeat to yourself that these vigilant confessions
are confessions to a mirror of internet compromised expressions
confessions to a mirror is computed calculated revelations
mirror images are exact in their sameness except for direction

Trite, trite, trite are the revelations reinacted online
Is the object of desire merely a projection of myself?
Or a succubus conquering my psyche by stealth?





There are of course
other ways of finding morsels
to bite just look up in the local of real world
and smell that sweet smell
of revelation for one
revelation from handmade handfelt handwritten handbitten
bite



I see the future and there lies the present in all unholy raw and undigested
desire in real world and desire on line stem from the same pod
one perhaps more elusive but I believe the authenticity of words
whether they be written or staccatoed from a hot whirling machine.
There may be black holes consisting of magic
simple tricks that the brain does when not static
the imagination does doth go wild but it is especially delightful
when the brains of two in overdrive hit the dirt
in cacophonic harmonics.