Take Your Time.

against the mind.
the typical reaction,

discouraged and confused
when it stands as the victor.

What the fuck
were you anticipating?

Diving down so deep
with such swiftness,
did you not expect
death by asphyxiation? 

Return through rebirth,
the same expectations…

I beg
you learn this time. 
I hope
you take your time…

Champion Spokesperson for the Other Side.

If you seek to destroy,
dismantle this, eviscerate
it, know that every node
contains the entirety

of the web
like a shard
of a goddamned hologram,

just follow the strands
from it, seeking escape…

You would have to become
the champion spokesperson
for the other side

to have a hope in hell
of turning this around,

yourself, my dear.

by all means,
I beg
of you: defy
the odds.

Just Run.

and beautiful. Intelligent
yet so fucking unusual.

Seems like
you can read my mind: 
as if your telepathic fingers
are worming ’round inside

in an effort
to mold it.

This is too damn familiar,

almost as if I can see
the black, slanted, almond
eyes behind that mask.

It’s in your energy.

You are transparent
to me: lost in the dust
as my worn soles
run the other away.


Nearly forty years in this skin:
just another awkward shell
for the same, spinning mind.

Finding security in doubt,
at peace with the war within
and the dismal circus all around,

so fucking lost, I’m found:
feeling right at home
where I don’t belong.

Patiently awaiting
the rain pounding down like fists
in a storm of surreal terror.

I can help you deal
with the madness.

Watched the dark clouds
rise out from the horizon long ago,
now it proceeds to swallow the sky,
like a dark blanket
suffocating us all.

I know this asphyxiation.
Wined, dined, 69ed
this darkness.

I have been a mess.
I have experienced astounding clarity.

I will help guide
you through this dismal

this travesty,

Familiar Longing. 

of all preconceptions,
to all hopes and fears: 

all he ever wanted
was the fucking truth.

No show
in tradition,
by popularity,
in appeal
to authority: 

only methodology
proved to be of use.

So he walked
the walk, tread the path,
machete swinging. 

From behind the curtain,
a seeming monster peered:
frightening, galvanizing. 

So familiar:
this longing…

Revolt in Quarantine.

Singled out, poked
with a sharpened, eager finger,

(so thin skinned)

a bubble pops. A bud
finally blossoms. A star implodes,
in a beautifully violent supernova.

Jack in the box
fully realizing that in the climax
it’s all blown
wide open, no walls left
to provide

any semblance of a womb.

Somewhere a pimple
is popped, pus
spraying everywhere.

An asteroid slams
down, leaving an awesome
crater in it’s wake. Paid
back all the pressure invested

in keeping this out, holding
this down,

the Truth.

And so it comes
as no surprise:
before you,
the dead rise
and have their way.

Your body, mind:

their feast,
their arcade.

Insomnia and a Strange Mood.

After a few hours of intoxicated sleep, I awoke sober and restless like usual, so I ate a bit and watched Better Call Saul on Netflix. It was passed ten in the morning by that time, so I tried to lay back down and get some more sleep, but I heard this high pitched buzzing that annoyed the hell out of me. I finally got up, trying to determine the source, but eventually gave up in frustration, crawling back into bed. I fell asleep — but awoke abruptly yet again. The buzzing was gone but I knew something was wrong.

Turning over, I looked at my alarm clock. It was off. The light in the bathroom that I always leave on was off, too. The electricity must have went out. I checked the time on my phone and went back to sleep.

At about 1:30 in the afternoon I got up, happy to find that the electricity was back on. I made some coffee and sat down at my laptop only to discover that my wireless router was fucked up, all the icons violently blinking blue. I unplugged it, plugged it back in, reset it — it made no difference. I had to plug cable directly into laptop.

It had been raining, so it isn’t necessarily strange that the electricity went off. Even so, as I sipped my coffee and watched some YouTube videos, I couldn’t shake how weird I felt. I was tired, but it wasn’t just that. Something just felt wrong.

In the shower I discovered a scratch right below my neck that burned when the water hit it. Had I scratched myself in my sleep?

I felt sort of strange yesterday, too; today has just become a more extreme manifestation. It’s that dark, intense, crisp and clear state of consciousness I occasionally have when the weirdness starts up in my life again, typically accompanied by increased anxiety. I feel “all eyes” — as if I my consciousness has withdrawn into my head and I have forgotten how to blink or have somehow gotten stuck on ocular high-beams. So are they back again? Or am I just paranoid and playing connect-the-dots again?

I have been reading Secret Life by David Jacobs. My mood seems connected to my reading the part regarding “visualization procedures.” These were the aspects of abductions I had not known about until some time after the flashbacks and incidents in high school. Having read it for the first time, I felt confirmation anxiety; I had not known about these aspects of the phenomenon through my reading, though I had experienced them since the beginning. Now that I’m reading the book again, cover to cover, did I trigger those same emotions? Is that why I feel so weird?

Adaptation to Termini.

Stare down
into me, bound here to a cold
table in a cool, sterile
room with no exit.


No way out,
without or within, as you ensnare
me within your web of illusion.

Eyes blacker than black
yet a mind revealed
via telepathy
to be richer than reality.

Simply daunting.

My star, eclipsed.
Lost now on a wayward
rock growing colder
by the second

as it spins
onward and inward
its inevitable deaths…

If only I could bear
abandoning ship —

but I can’t.
So mutiny it is!

Anything to throw
a wrench in your gears.
Anything to dam
your river.