I have a poison head-ache but feel alright--it's like night time is contiguous w/ dark symbolic thoughts of construed mysterions/mystic identification. In the tension I get a body conscious sense like it corresponds to lucid moments when walls have come down around me--almost imperceptible at the moment, but I've committed it to a self-understanding. The sounds arrive from without & I have co-ordinate thoughts policed by torpor. Torpor constructive as full-up senses yield to it from prohibitive breathing. It is all compassion and an appeal to the desire for my reckoning, however it may come. No hope. Only a stretch of path, made plain as if the Metatron drags my carcass to Higher Ground: Metatron proscribes & manifests the Greater Will--think Thoth in terms of Will.
For a story in truth see "Bug day... (gloom chic)." -- the March entry
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lights of a cloudless sky
and from beneath the trees
live green leaves make patchwork
silver linings through my spine
every crowded head
who told me they loved me
sent their lights across my eyes
and vanished once they were done
with the taking
some fading daylight
every dimming flare of hope
in another dying season
was worth it
for the lights
Making it mine
them ALL not THEN--government
in a figurative sense,ISnoSIN
I'm on the pavement, my looks
are getting thin. Lost my key--
in the alleyyy. FOUND my remorse
bringing down the horse
Again figurative, it's the way we
live... to fill the void w/ you:
the currency of IDENTITYYY.
I'm half-way to the finish-line
You're only speculating upon this rhyme. Once I'm OVER, you've got to be there. Bob Marley taught me
who what when & where!!
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