march of the bone

it hits me as I wash the chalk from my fingers,
as I scrub into the thumbnail crack.
Those who laugh last, still crash, in this
planned out phase of existence
and distance; will not increase resistance, in this
paradoxal plane of physics

Drown into yourself
on holidays ever after,
bygones be gone like yesterday's paper
I itch that scratch and burn in it later
upon inspection the best correction
seems to be...

I don't fucking know
we hardly ever do, us} { people} {
we drew out of the water with test~run lungs
? formed a thought and thought we had won
bows, trebuchet, and then made the gun
nuclear weapons, chemical testing,
Christ, we used to worship the sun
The madness of man it is a disease,
we walk a thin line between,
talking animal and moving machine
making everything so squeaky clean
hushing the silence,
serene.

doling incidents

desire and it's ritualistic ripples surge through with relentless incisions
cutting and pasting replications of their idea
dull, dry, and dolere
stomach pain
butterflies dying
over-saturated emotions
pulsing with a re-dubbed feel
old tensity returns and burns through fields
stuffy head and clouded mind
how did we ever get so behind

elice

oh you
you apparition
where do you come from?
from protein? from amino acid?
are you traces of carbon, iron, or
water?
are you awry electrical forces
forging yourself from the design?
from the code deep inside?
are you real?
existence may only be in the mind,
but the way your eyes blossom
you must be alive
I want you to be alive
not just fog and faux

reality vaporizes just a thought
shrewd faces and authoritative talk,
we are all carriers of a broken conscience
chasing fading dreams all for naught

but arms will be laced again
breathing through strands of hair
fed to sleep
preparing to disappear

live;
live long and love,
love and be loved.
carry a net
catch that apparition
change the lonesome tradition.
open eyes must see
more than visually
there is no perfection in destiny

engenesises

The trees started growing again after the fall of the moon. The darkness and its perils receded, and as they drew out of the caves in droves, they stood in amazement. The sprouts were coming up from the dust and rubble reaching for the glimmering hazy light. On scarred knees these ravenous people smelt the first blooms of already browning dandelion flowers.
Eyes became bleached in the pits, and words became everything. Generations had passed and withered in the dank of the underground. The sewage their forefathers had swam through to live had been washed away, yet the stench of death still remained. Air littered with spinning particles of blacks and grays tasted like purity in noses and lungs.
Gone were the days of creation.

take the pills
dissolving, stomach acid

brain sliding against skull
veins,arteries, and tubes
tucked between muscle

underneath close-woven cellular skin

lightheaded and losing sense
cement square after cement square

the life of the leaf
captured in a hardened snare

and your hands are clean
after stretching your life out,

on the tv screen
it's the moms and dads
and sons and daughters

all of the happy dreams
where floating air's like water

scrap

my frigid wrist
my howling spirit
my genuine thoughts and feelings
open your self

in a walk, in a spin
in an airtight ship
on wallowing knees
in sacred heart in solemn vision
of life ever art
gone bewilderedness
fading lights on
shapely dark heads
cool side show up
call me again
take what you want
from take me on home
the risen division of my decisions
falters not favors
and over again
your words, eyes, thoughts
trailing, finally
I
gone, through, out
making somethings about
woe, woe, woe, dear sight
fainters and painters delights
honest over ear over
hey whats that you hear
the mission of discipline
is to right an error
the reason for leavin'
is feeling young again
I wrote all my lovers
i left with empty hands
I bathed in realization
that this is only the only life
micro and macro
we wont happen again
I thank all your bellows to the core
on progress on insight on red shoes in a dark lit light
sync, cap, repeat
playback, scrap that

long thought

I am a walking mammal. A bi-ped homo sapien.
I have an epidermis, it coats my entire body.
I perceive color spectrum through ocular lenses.
Electromagnetism rules my physical world.
If there is a god he hides in the mysteries of gravity,
and within the secrets of the atom.
My needs are as follows:
Oxygen mixture for cell function
Carbon based matter for cell function
Hydrogen-Oxygen mixture for hydration
Fornication for reproduction(optional)
Communication for proper brain function
Sunlight for survival
Weapons for cell defense(optional)
Temperate climate for survival

Any "needs" past these are strictly "wants".
Wants have constructed my immediate material world.
"Life" is perplexing in nature.
Time is infinite and everything is obsolete.
Thought is beyond the realm of the purely physical.
The galaxies of yesterday are the black holes of tomorrow.
Yet another idea that escapes the finality of scientific dissection.
Scientific dissection had sliced through everything, and stripped it of supernatural fiction. With unexplainable phenomenon humans may have had more passion. People often do great and terrible things in the face of what they do not understand. It is far worse when large amounts of humans have terrible misconceptions about life and the finality of it.

we walk staring at the ground, staring at the faces
hands rested in familiar places,
puffed air, breath out; defiance
soft hums of working metals
roll through alleys and down nestled sidewalks
eyes quiver against sweeping cold
and I'm told
told to be the whole soul
an old role
habits, and lack of good ones
slumping, sleeping away
chasing luck's rolling waves
til the soul is saved
no more wasting days
no more sulking ways
enveloped in an eternal gloom
so soon to be sold into doom
no room for poor panicked you
the sad shift of gentle things
the fast fist of struggling
polished people look into shining mirrors
as I look into saturated dreams
recount, regret splitting seems
farther down from the crown
than a man should be
resting heads on rolled up beds
want fucked, drunk, and fed
want warm rooms
without the face of death
in dirt and stones in empty shoes
in dreams and thoughts too
souls spin in thousands
lost causes tie them to the ground
floating hopes like sinking boats
churning in the wake
i'm a step removed and slightly unseen
beyond the arch of the artillery
beyond the clouds of dropping debris
first come first serve for what they deserve

salut

in solemn hope and concentration
the black smears white light in every dimension
through thin windows
in endless detail
waltzing neons strut;
in searching through fading static
while begging the fire down
small drops of chemical equation
calm shaking hands
the honest empathy
for another

blazing within,
the pious, the negligent
forces left to understand
bring fear for fear cleanses,
it bleaches the deepest reaches
i'll be damned.
spinning blade meet spinning hands
outstretched lives
in a random land

firefight:(see)
fireflies;
timeline;
timeflies:(also)


paid to behave and be brave and be...
pay to be new to be bold and be....
I'd pay to be....

busted, bruised, brainwashed
The best of the worst, of the altogether
unsatisfying, unbelievable, unbearable
worst for the best, of the broken,
and

Nostalgia of the times grasps
into beating chests
fills areas left untouched
enough, is enough, is enough
let us drink
to being alive