Suicidal Species.

So just become the enemy
in order beat the enemy.

Never mind the hypocrisy,
as ends always justify
the means.

Go on, fight fire with fire:
watch as we all
burn away.

Still hopelessly blind
to the light
despite the blaze.

Ostriches plagued
with cranial-rectal inversion.

If they’re deaf
to you, screaming louder
will help, I’m sure.

Cacophony in time with chaos
as we march
mindlessly on our crooked
pathway
towards mass destruction.

No hunger for truth, this river
of bullshit
always flows and grows:
never ceases.

I want to trust
in us,
but its so hard to ignore
the fact

that we are such
a fucking suicidal species.

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Socialized Psychopathic Sunflare.

Kills me to realize
that you’re just like them,
bearing narrow chambers
for a twisted heart,

a spinning mind cradled
by an otherwise empty head:

makes me thankful
I’m dead
to this world

as well
as the one
I was hurled from.

Found my moon
(that reflective devil)
to guide me through this dark:
all as I’m embracing chaos,
becoming the star

to outshine
each and every one
horizon by horizon
as I traverse
the surface

on my way
across this volatile globe

with our blacker-than-black sea
to my back, dark waters I wade in,
hypnotized away

as I’m enlightened
by prey
caught in my own glow

as I strike
out to scorch,
and, in time,

to swallow.

Entangled Asphyxiation.

Watching
you drowning,
painful pangs tinged
with a cocktail
of fear and yearning,

echoing across the divide
between, closing in again,

too weakened,
entangled
in my parallel asphyxiation,
to try and throw you a safety line.

We both feel it, dying
with every heavy breath we steal,

both lost to time,
lost in space,
eager to abandon
a world
where we feel aborted
anyway:

plagued with a sort of insanity
out of harmony
with the madness infecting
everything surrounding.

Not prone to being passive,
but just sinking
deeper, faster
as we continue struggling.

Ashamed
that I can hardly
help myself,

certain I’m fucking doomed
if, at last,
you choose to give in,
give up,

sharply inhale that cold, fluid dark
into your lungs.

Above and Between.

Lick the dark,
savor the rich taste.

Let the shadow roam.

Embody it
before it possesses
you again:
pacify the monster within.

No use living in denial,
running from the black,
hiding in the light, half blind.

Time to realign.

One eye
reflecting the home star,
the other,
mirroring our natural satellite,

balancing

so that the last,
above and between,
can yawn,

stretch open wide.

Renegade Emotions (Out of My Way).

Fighting
to keep the despair
at bay
as I ride another wave
of seeming futility,

determined not to let it
pull me back under.

Found the message
in the bottle:
“avoid my bubbly,
intoxicating contents.”

Only exacerbates
depression.

Turn to these pills for sleep,
devil’s lettuce
and extra-strong Kava tea
for decompression.

Cannot allow
these renegade emotions
to pull strings
in me like a puppet:

had more
than enough if it.

Must keep my soul
in charge,
get out of here, break
new ground

before it’s far
too late,

so out
of my fucking way,
already.

Of A-Bombs, Nietzsche, and Some Kind of Love.

Photo captured
more than your image.

In amber
there lies
a moment:

joy
upon your face.

You found your place.
Only forward now.
No looking back.

Ubermensch with a vagina,
as I always claimed
when contemplating
your personality

in the context of the speaking, tale-telling,
long dead, mustache -man’s
philosophy —

one which suffered
an abrupt end,
like a machete
to an obstacle,

much like the nature
with which you severed
our bond.

Me?

I’d dropped
my weapons,
held up my hands,
fingers spread far and wide,

palms, buck
fucking naked, hypersensitive

and suffering from spotlight
radiation poisoning.

This level
of exposure

sinking
into me, so deep
it knocks
now on the door
of the impenetrable seed:

this time capsule
of the soul
that protects me until
my time of blossoming.

AOLs, STRAY CATS, Projections and Transference.

Fixate on the target.
Grasp the glowing prana.
Hold your psychic breath,
keep projections in check:

make your inner world
a window
and not a mirror.

Mind still
and indiscriminate
in meditation,
through following the breath.
Seek to sustain it:

Judgments and interpretations
at this stage
only serve to muck up
the process.

Abstain.
Find comfortable
distance.

Gather raw data
from the third person,
witness perspective.

Be sure to document.

Only in the wake
should you work

to discern
the signal
from the noise,

communication
from interference:

ever on the lookout
for AOLs,
STRAY CATS,

projections
and transference.

Trials of a Vicious Belly.

Narrowing tunnel,
flickering light at the end.
Feeling black and blue,
and all I ever see is red.

S’pose it’s a step away
from being blind with rage,
full participation in a world
that’s clearly gone insane,

but being constantly bruised
is certainly taking its toll,
my blue is getting darker;
my black, siphoning my glow.

Fallen into lifting my lost soul
with spirits, herb, and pills,
dragging out the end in denial,
efforts to postpone the kill.

This way of life, it’s just dead.
One way, or the other,
or reconcile heart and head.

Clenched teeth, sharp tongue
viced ‘tween stained,
once pearly whites.

Blood boils, nerves on edge,
oscillating between
this lashing out,

swallowing my pride,
bloating my already vicious belly.
There has s got to be a better way
and I need to find it

before I go
irreversibly insane

and there is no way to stop,
circumvent or destroy it.

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.