Unnecessary Absurdities.

What a curious circumstance.
How, even on this crazy earth,

did I find
myself here,
after all? So close

to what could’ve been,
but never
will be, as I never
believed in me, so no
chance for us,

the three
of us in mundane bliss,
the traditional
unit, our nuclear family.

Normal is uncomfortable
enough of a mask
without introducing
unnecessary absurdities.

Excuse me as I embitter
you, all

as I break
my own stone,
black heart,

bomb
my hope
to the likes of their hell.

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Furthest Standpoint from the Sun.

Trapped in a cage of hopeless dead weight,
fighting against gravity’s hungry aim,
so serve to accelerate
descent instead.

Dive deeper beneath this ocean skin,
down to the core,
the furthest standpoint from the sun,

so I might
hold you at gunpoint
and scream:

“Tell
me what all
of this fucking means

… if it means anything at all.”

Pandora’s Earth.

Synchronicity intrudes
again into your life,
holding a mirror
to your shadow side,

the growing black,
the strengthening grip
of a dark desire

kept locked
in a box
between heart and mind

now breaks out and spills
down to the ground,
water, fluid chaos, crying
up and into the sky,
watering your lone stars,
kissing her own…

“And all
as they fall
in line
with mine?”

You find
yourself in a morbid corner,
sinking in a curious quagmire,

brought down
to do or die.

Keep a promise or lie
to one of those dangerously
high on a short list
of souls

to whom you feel
aligned,

she’s probably
the love
of your life,

or at least a mirror,

a shadow,
a reflection
or silhouette

to let you know,

a reminder you’re never
really alone.

Like it or not.

This is the soil
from which hope
grows,

yet ask
yourself: are you truly
the seed
that finally hit bottom?

Empathy Wed to Reason.

This empowering feeling
possessing me as I transcend
this utter madness:

exquisite.

Expecting the worst
yet willing to embrace tragedy
as a consequence
if it earns me the chance

to be me,
fashion myself,
truly mould my intent,

make
a meaningful,
compassionate
difference —

empathy wed
to reason paves
the only way

to survival amidst
our tangled web of souls.

Shunning Seduction.

Just bait.

So louring
to me
you can feel

my yearning
for meaning

through the bond I
mindlessly, instinctually forged
through the passion

pushing behind my interest,
but I know you’re addictive,

that you’ll suck me dry
as a desert, leave
me just

another dead world,
victim of a parasite.

So fuck yourself.

Just go away.

Shift in the Duality.

Meats hide spirit.

Not products,
mind
you, mere residents
of flesh.

Liberated consciousness
seduced back

in sexual
rhythm
again and again,
tricked

into identifying with the role
you play,
the space of the missing piece
it pretends to fit

in as a feeble,
though evolving,

attempt
at a sort
of survival strategy —

until it becomes clear
its doomed
to disaster…

Nothing permanent, no.
Just
the inconceivably inconvenient

expiration dates,
eviction notices
one is left
to contend with.

Skin
is sort of the transient
Venus Flytrap
of the immortal soul.

Yes, it has its benefits.

You are not one of them.

So reductive.
Superficial.
Instinctive.
Emotional.

Help me.

I,
my light, find
myself increasingly
siding
with my Shadow.

Help me.

I need reconcilliation,
not possession.

Beaming Blue (Where This is Not Going).

Sprawled
out on my bed,

flooding
with endorphin
release

just like me, sitting
here in my chair enjoying
a smoke, lost
in a strange, inner peace

till I feel her
as she stares
at the ceiling,

wondering
what is running
through her mind, tempted

to break my vow,
take a peek…

Resolving now
to keep my promise,
respect her privacy

as she glows,
despite feeling blue,

all this as she knows me,
accepts
where this is not going…

and I feel ashamed,
like I’m taking advantage,

but she’s willing
to try, to battle

the futility
that I am.

Being, Finding.

Meditation, hypnosis,
my depression, anger and anxiety:
narrowing attention
to a point of such high absorption

that intensifies
till it swallows,
consumes all…

Drugs, legal and otherwise,
drowning out the noise
so I can fixate on the signal,

amplify and elaborate,
manifest and personify
the forces struggling for control

in the fucked-up,
utterly alien
dark of my mind.

Catharsis achieves a pique,
a fever pitch,
calls for alchemy.
So much still
within, yet all that which I’ve mined
out of me
needs structure and understanding

if I have any hope of overcoming,
advancing,
if I have a chance in hell of being,
finding me.

Another Battle (In a War That Need Not Be).

I want to mix
it up,
I want to fuck
it up…

So blind with red. Insanely angry.
Green with greed.
Bloated, stuffed, and yet so needy.

Insatiable.
Behold:

my beaming vermilion.
Blackout.
Awaken feeling blue.

Best to play
my best and favorite games —
Yes, with you

as well as myself,
before I go, right?

Do my part
to disrupt the order
everyone follows
yet is nonetheless

compelled in the wake
to call chaos. High time
you short-circuit

the system,
throw a wrench
in the gears

of this so-ancient
machine,
inspire

reevaluation,
force a change.

Please don’t work
against me. Don’t play
the ass-kisser
to authority,

pretend
to be faithful
to the rules.

We all play
favorites with the guidelines,
we all pick and choose.

Everyone overlooks,
cuts corners,
necessarily subjects
each and every rule

it to a hierarchy of values.

So show them where you stand,
draw the line in the sand
of this dead world

with the rich, shimmering blood
of all your former enemies
to drive in the point:

don’t fuck with me.

I only ask
that you sustain integrity,
embrace empathy,
strive for compassion.

Let me win
that battle

(and only incidentally),

spare
us both the war.