Subversive.

My desire:

convolution

that is what you think

I've lingered an eternity

with down-trodden wings

In case of an emergency

we burn all our things

pick out our favorite cinder

add a Spanish "she"

What irony!

(the story

of inner beauty seen)

take the field

leave me

whatever it has to be

but take with you this pain

from veins

from hands and feet

wear it like a shirt

Be curt

and I'll believe

that fission did its mission:

split you up

Set me free

Excavation

There is a diary

on the edge of our nightstand

tiny

it can be held

tightly

opened with one hand

the writing 

scribbled mostly

scrawled in a 

fiery 

frenzy 

emotional bursts 

confusion

declarations of immortality

the drawing 

of incorrect conclusion

I hope that in time

we can be lazarus

beautiful 

share futures

as monsters of frankenstein

you'd still see our sutures

on knees

I crawl around

for evidence

for proof

digging in the ground

my shovel hits our roots

hear sirens of police

they're still too far to see

piling back on dirt

hastily

trap a part of me

as i run away

i register a thought 

of time and of its worth

of what cannot be bought

reach right through the filament

exchange innards 

for treatise 

your eyes 

the beauty

long-dead galaxies

race light years to

plant their brilliant seeds

Projections of the Sea: A Sestina

Conflicting truths should be kept separate

Freedom, in particular, requires a quarantine from solitude
Loneliness is just one dance in a vastly larger ritual
We celebrate a sacrifice instead of the resulting release
This leads to the catastrophic introduction of a new Desire
Desires do nothing to help mirrors reflect

I can do nothing without time to reflect
Time which is used to keep youth separate
For youth can so easily become tainted with desire
Overwhelming and breeding a debilitating fear of solitude
Crying skyward, as if to a deitous warden, you’ve been begging for release
Repeating this exercise weekly, as though it were ritual

As an adult, you know nothing of ritual
You throw stones in the water and expect it to reflect
It just stretches, rippling, begging the shores for release
The muddy banks still prefer to remain separate
They laugh at what the water perceives to be solitude
From their higher vantage view of you, they lament your need to desire

You’re standing there, dripping with the viscera of people you desire
The scene calls to mind a gorey ancient Aztec ritual
Though the crimes intangible, your track record contorts when left in solitude.
finally ,the river you’ve been staring at has chosen what to reflect
The resulting image joins the good and bad that you once kept separate
Into a single former captive, preapproved for release

You pool together cerebral funds and try to block their release
So that no one person will see the Armageddon of your desire
Screaming defiantly, “Not even the troops of Megiddo could keep these separate”
Stashing your desecration into cute little packages becomes your new Christmas ritual
Involving a yearly submersion into these waters to reflect
Accepting a fate of eternal solitude

You welcome isolation, yet shun biblical solitude
The sort of prison which holds no hope of release
Your adopted viscous mirror shuts off without the light to reflect
The Deitous warden has returned and enunciated his desire
“You, who have hitherto sat so far above reflective ritual”
Referring to I, “Will now have eternity to see life from a body separate”

He implies that my solitude means my will and fate are separate
I conclude the need to reflect on this in ritual
My newfound release allows me to wade neck-deep in my desire

Nature v. Nurture

I was born crying

Before I could think

I cried with an intensity 

That could only be achieved with a brain incapable of control or predetermined self censoring

In the thinking man

Doubts have evolved so brilliantly 

That they nearly precede the stimuli

Which they have developed to mitigate

In contrast, the liberated youth 

may allow themselves to be inhibited by the external, the unexpected. 

I learned to be hurt before I learned to rationalize the sensation of pain

This gift came from an external source

The tears preceded, and were sustained, until Lady Sorrow came and wiped them away

The thinking man deals differently, she said.

You must learn to murder

Find your solace in your plunder

Replace your tears with the tears of others

I refused 

And took refuge with fellow victims of man

Think, for a moment, of what happens when a family takes in a feral pet

Alongside the love that grows with the animals ever-stretching limbs 

Festers a fear which is rooted in the very DNA of the beast:

Something which overrules the nurturing,

And for which death is the only reasonable solution

See, the animal has been rendered incapable of assuming what nurture has stolen

And subsequently been endowed by nature 

with the power to destroy everything he has come to hold dear.

The aforementioned youth will be released from the company of his fellow victims, under the guise of assumed strength 

and the actuality of fear of his developing power.

One day, he will turn away from this swath of betrayal toward the mirror and see his attacker shrug off their similarities.

On that day, he will be all of his fears, embodied.

Liminality

Would you hate me if told you that the human existence
is just the eye of a spiritual monsoon?
and what if i told you that the skin of a butterfly
is just another cocoon?
this is not about death
it's about savoring your breath
until your breathing is through

To stay open
to keep your fears in isolation
from evidence
from the stimuli present
 in the very air that you breathe to keep your heart beating
The very same heart, metaphorically speaking,
that you are breaking
to keep your mind all patched up and functional.

and as long as you refuse to close
keep the midnight oil burning
you'll have to keep a gun under the counter for deterrence
Defense
god forbid, its your essence they're stealing!

You remove the lid
stick your hand in
the cookie jar never pilfers back
So much heartache
so many masks
they never quite got the definition of your distress

People can beat and bruise you, yes
but the worst pain you'll ever experience
comes from the lies you tell yourself

Momentary

How long until i lift off
lifts continue to give me
trips to the top of mid-grade mountains
yet I still claim dominance
supreme reign over all
who have accomplished this
more than this
and similar feats

See the bridges under which i crawl
golden gates, Akashi, Erasmus
gargantuan, metallic, masterful
what shallow claims
applied with such depth

I've walked past the same set of stairs
for four years
and never had the inclination to climb them

I keep seeing my reflection in the same puddles
the same pair of eyes peer back
i peel back the thin film of optimism
this mask of human indolence

and see the sights as they present themselves
to my eyes, ever-sinking, my inevitable demise
they see the events that seek to ruin my life

the change, the dread!

the dread
the shifting of the scene
the side-scrolling landscape
we can't peer past the edge
but we're moving at the speed
our characters are progressing

and he who is controlling
who is he controlling?
who is he?
is he?

Skin-suits

Color my silhouette
with brevity
I bet I know which one you'll pick
this
Another chance to hedge your bets
add levity

You are my heart
quite literally
and I can't separate myself
from the bruises you hatch in me
from inside my pulmonary cavity

I'm sending forth a target
to guide you as you careen
out of our lives
into the heart of the beast's bottomless belly
with a head full of of steam

Other girls
they're so pretty
in more ways than not
but their skin-suits are so insulated
that they're all running hot

For all their sources of intake
there exists just a single exhaust
which is the one place to penetrate
upon which all inside is lost

You see what I find difficult

You
with all your flaws and hate
are vented
with such passion
your substance circulates

and connection
is not extraction
no more absorption of your traits
We can have conversation with our copulation

We can be variably sated but keep our patience
while that dog and old Pavlov
try to rearrange their proverbial graves

Feeding Spoon

Since the beginning
Nature has juxtaposed weakness and strength
man accentuates the differences

underground rivers became wells
well-wishing made lakes
and coaxed the beaten paths
into the sidewalks they became

Man began walking down these sidewalks
between which ants became safe

finding shelter in the crevices
and man tries to preclude
his steps with giant, rubbery, grooved
optimum comfort-suited shoes

and the ants, with their benevolence
stare up at the mountain-sized grooves
from the canyon-sized crevices
and benevolently just move on through

we carry this culture of destruction
this desire to alter
the ever-impending need to improve;
re-craft nature in our image
when it was she who originally sprang us from her womb

we are the rebellious children of a dying world
worshiping our own creations
while consuming its food
thrusting forth a sword of chaos
pretending it's a feeding spoon

About a Girl.

With a militant zeal 
you jump from bad company to worse
the company you keep 
is keeping one eye on your purse

if you really have to ask
the other is focused on your ass
and if he stops to turn his head
its just to survey your legs

to search for a rift
it seems to be a game
I know firsthand that man
only seeks to return from whence he came

easy submission is a back-up generator for shame
you seek approval from a machine that only dispenses pain

you've got all the guys gawking
falling behind you when you're walking
they can't stop talking

and you already know what they're saying
of course you do
that's why you act just as vacuous as they're claiming

you're holding up a veil that's as tall as the building in which you're sleeping
next to the man whose only pressing needs are eating, breathing, and leaving
so he peers over to make sure your breath is peaceful, your back still heaving
gets up, gathers his things and gets on with his evening

you rise
to an empty bed
down your cheek
tears are streaming

don't worry
it's not that your veil is receding
it's just that your feelings tend to continue on the path
that your body is leading

that prickling in your chest
is your heart, still beating
still struggling to be heard
still counteracting your cheating

but we're all superb
still people of our word
separating the stable people
from the slightly more disturbed

so you put these wooden walls up
taking trust falls with falling trust
there's a crowd at the gate
the smell of satiating sawdust
fills you up

and you make your glorious retreat

to the brink
on the cusp
now just counting down the hours
until your heart returns to dust

The New Topography

I'm not okay when I'm okay

and similarly,

I'm not alive unless I'm dying

This will sound grim until you see that you, yourself, are withering.

Those wrinkles in your skin
are not for you to dismiss

they are to grow with you
until they eat your self-image
they are to grow in you
until they throw you from a cliff

they seek to carve in character
like a river forms a canyon
and there you stand

overlooking the abyss
of societal bliss

you sketch a smile across your face
a universal mark of content
while your self-hate asymptotes into the infinite

the way they coddled you as an infant
didn't last
you became a burden
when your need began to shift

you went from requiring physical upkeep
offering purpose
to siphoning metaphysical affirmation
poor kid

you were left to find your footing in a world left crumbling
rumbling
thundering
suffering from serious existential drift 

Recess

I can recall a scene
if I really try
see the sweating of my brow
see the squinting of my eyes
I was lying in a field
and crouched by my side
were these outside ideals
stacked 6 feet high

Do I wish I could be the man on the silver screen
or that I could be with the girl who wished to be with me
wishing to end up being lovelessly married
living miserably until the day I'm effortlessly buried

The extent of the depravity
I've seen
and the subsequent construction

necessary security
dividing
the outside world from the purity I've kept

at least I think I have

it might've crept away from my embrace
while I slept
this has happened several times

in a literal sense


I'm sure you guessed
that I used to get out more
did more
thought less

I've brought death
to my nature
this stack of ideals
is all I have left

it disappoints you that I have disgusted myself
that my disfigured innards
have grown inward
intense

my distinctive sins
finally
distinctly grotesque

Natural Desperation

Call me human
Call me innocent
Indentured servant to my ignorance
My craving is my compass
society shapes my temperament

Judge my intellect if you will.
When I came into this world,
I knew light
I knew its absence
how it illuminates a pearl.

The way I attention-hoard when at a party
how I eat when I'm most hungry;
My vices are my vices
walled off for times of crisis

But, lately.....

Lately it feels like I have nothing to say
like a big black hood's been pulled o'er my face
and I'm lying in a trunk,
been stashed away
there's enough air left maybe to last a day

now, for some reason
preservation takes over my mind
though I swear I've ignored caution about a thousand times
now, since the date of death is impending
regardless of decision
the only thing I have left to choose is to try to keep on living

Denial

I'm trying not to think of what I do

What I give

Because then I'll stick my hand out

I'll gesture toward you

An ugly thing, it is

I'll atrophy an undisclosed amount

I'll receive nothing and I'll hold true

hold two broken ribs

you ask me what I cry about

The truth is that what I've been through

made me want this

and you promised to relinquish what you've announced:

the universe does all but forgives

love is tainted

there's a stain I kicked on your good heart

I was just climbing up the walls of my own pit

I didn't create it

And the strain has claimed of my reputation a decent part

Now I've dealt with my own shit

fence is painted

Andy Griffith said its just the start

that everythings a metaphor, that's it

we can either hate it, the punishment,

or make a Rembrant out of a painted fence, works of art

We are

the ones

who want

the star

of our

good luck

to outlive its supply of energy

but if it outlives its dependent planets, so what?

then its just floating

consuming its own lifeforce

self-indulgence

and its consequential self-loathing

Atonement

I'm irate

at being upset

Angry

for the intent

That I have,

that I would

never

pull you up

if falling off a cliff

Any faith that I had

Stolen

and its sad

Because you were going

to be a friend

Instead

growing lanes of greenhouse heat-traps

Venus

I want my Athena

beginning to see the

drawbacks of erring on the end of good

The spoils

go to the meanest

the one with least will

to be decent

A system

I know

I created it

four years ago

to escape a torrential depression

the deepest

I guess you need it

to outjump that curb behind your feet

Maybe

I'm projecting my problems, berating

onto you

Maybe

you did what I've been unable

to do

Maybe

my inferiority complex

is driving me crazy

Maybe

my drive

is just me overcompensating

Lately

you've been on the rampage

someone took your lady

you just stick and move

Ali's fighting style encapsulated

Lately

I've had to see ugliness

In my paradigm of beauty

I've had to live Praying,

abstaining, understating

and I go to sleep

with the intention

of seeing my desires ideally

all I can see is you two

on screen

laughing in and at my dreams

and you can do what you want

sleep with my best friend

its just a taunt

a test

Of everything I've built

my atonement

for everything I've wraught

everything I've loved

everyone I've hurt

caught in your shell

huddled up

all determined

to bring me back to hell

Unconditional Reciprocal

See.

a terrible thing that you hate to believe

but know is true

You see a big piece of the real me

and it disgusts you

And I laugh, because I'm peeking out from a semi-enclosed two way mirror

The rest is so much worse than you know

And I hate it, so, i guess i hate myself

And I've debated, whether defense is needed

you don't see it

You ignore it

There is so much you don't know

The reason why I'll always be alone

No one is so strong to ignore themselves until the end

to throw themselves off a bridge when they hardly know how to swim

well i never learned what to expect
a reciprocal?

Nonsense, for I have the breaking point of diamond

I learned to swim as a dog does

when its master falls through the ice

It knows that its food and shelter is floating off in the water

and this pushes him to save a life.

pay attention to his true intention.

I have the curse of seeing my flaws

My humanity bites

like a Venus flytrap in a pigpen

and looks just as ugly

i want a lot of things

I just need someone to love me

as unconditionally as I love them.

Unconditional

We've spent these days apart.

And I've spent these years in your head

only to spend a two month's slithering journey working my way to your heart

If I could tell you everything I wanted you to know

I'd do so

And I can control what I say, I just can't control what you hear

So I lean over and gently caress your ear

As if priming it.

This timing, its never quite right

So I climb into the clock

And force the hands to drop

into a spinning motion

moderating the movements with an equation by controlling the quotient

And we are in limbo.

so,

I guess you have time to Listen:

I was brought into this world a whole, but between its teeth, i was chipping

And it wasn't for several years that I would notice a piece that was missing

Something I was raised to ignore.

So i carried a grudge.

since i was expected to carry on without love

in any forseeable future

I tried to cease being a defeatist and defeat it;

the results were putrid

and I was content to ride out my career

like a rider strapped to the reigns of a horse approaching a cliff

but, with wisdom lost on humans

my steed doubled back, and circled for a brief minute, and I found it:

a puzzle, a rubixian labyrinth-like masterpiece.

But, to handle something so free, it takes the hands of a god: An interjecting aphrodite.

I had originally encountered this puzzle long ago

when many sins and impatience caused me to grow frustrated and toss it into the rapids where it eventually found itself jammed in a murky stronghold

Knowing this, I expected it to be quite dirty, but found the opposite:
you see, the shame of four dozen acts
rolls off the pure of heart like rain off our backs
And they can go through hell and come back
and still show us the beauty in ourselves,

imagine that?

Your true beauty is in your complexity, the aforementioned rubixian perfection astounds me.

We'll grow like an oak and figure out a way to take the nutrients from weeds ; our negativity ; to grow even stronger, and build up to be the buttress we both need.

An Infinite Loop.

I am

not liberated.

A hedonistic turn must suffice.

I can't count the times I've given in to society's demands!

Its been demonstrated

that any stance you take is playing into someone else's hands.

And it is those hands that, for binding agreements, we shake.

Take the opposite of whats popular

and you're either a hardass

or just disagreeing for disagreement's sake

I am

not depraved.

Self-deprivation is neither my style,

nor does it pay.

Its influence might, but most people who preach it avoid it like the plague.

They avoid it like the hypocrisy we fail to glean from influence.

Morbidity:

Success seeks custody of the love child you made in Hawaii

My mind.

An aggregation.

What I learned before I was five

sits there right beside my college education,

together teaching me more than either could seperately

about the construct of contradiction-in-juxtaposition;

teaching me paradox's definition.

I'll veer away from my digression to hearken back to morbidity:

I like to think of this lifes successes as correcting a former life's tragedies

It should be established

that I commit atrocities everyday, or so says my pre-pubescent consicience,

Cue the lights.

In walk contradictions adjacent.

I am

An infinite loop

To break is to liberate

To restart?

A hedonistic turn must suffice

as the only entryway

But, like all the most rewarding things, hedonism has its price.

Still, every cycle must restart.

I am not liberated.

Repeal Your Peace

So your human critique debuts to thunderous applause

Even the subjects love it,

they dont even pause

Because it seems that those worth writing negative reviews about

never recognize their own flaws

I'm like the red headed stepchild

Ironically enough

this recessive trait is NOT a curse

So I guess its just bad luck

I try to inspire because,

since the hole in my heart is never filled

I have nothing tangible to give

But I know there must be something

I just don't know what the fuck that is

And I try to find happiness at the sight of your ascent

But how can I? When every takeoff is accompanied by an equally ambitious kick

as the only one in the blast zone,

I'm the only one hit

So please forgive, your highness,

if my recovery takes a bit

It's pretty hard to bounce back from an impact you've created yourself

When you go from being a helping hand to being the hired help

remember what they said about the contents of a book being reshelved

You told me that blood diamonds would only sparkle in the fires of hell

But I guess you were wrong...

I'm giving back my second chance

I don't need it anymore

I came to speak with a queen

But it turns out that she's just the king's whore

Talking is only further causing this;

Its the great depression

To a second world war

I'm over it...

Practice

Tell me, what are these things you hear me scream to no avail?

as im stranded out at sea, motionless, with no sail?

with no way to get home

and every way to break through

I've been in a makeshift parade to

Make sure we make due

There's clearly a reason you never write songs about you

It's because if you're gonna sing about it then it damn sure better be true

and since you don't the first thing

about knowing your innermost pain

you just blow up your first name

in lights

and choke on this little bit of fame

which is nice

because thats all you ever wanted

when you first heard your own voice

recorded playing back

with members of your church singing praise

you were addicted to that

so far be it from me to try to condemn you

just because i was haunted by art one day and to this day it continues

just because i can see what i think you think you see

but in a more expansive venue

not with regard to number of seats;

those numbers concern you

but with regard to the quality of my feats:

loving what i live for and not having to pretend to

sorry to preach

but your convalescence is stifling to see

to say the least

i really think you have a need to be re-teached

and i may need to learn verb tenses

but certain things are more important

like keeping the earth underneath your feet

Swing for the fences

and earn your keep

thanks for proving me right

it really makes it easy

I see society's really done a number on you

you try to put it in a function and wonder when it'll stop repeating

Foresight never really was your thing...

Stagnation

I hate this place.

This catholic college preperatory circus

Playing charades

Learning the rules to a game

but never ascertaining its purpose

These are the best years of our lives

Make sure to learn something!

Try every sexual position before you get out of high school

so that when you really start living nothing will ever surprise you

Practice following through on the rest of your drives, too.

Make sure their power matches the accuracy of your putts

Handicap's a five

Still rising

Still...

My rank outreaches the ceiling of the system

And shows me to the cellar door?

It turns out that if you shoot through the ceiling of the basement

you still have to start out with your back against the ground floor

Stagnation...

Goodbye...

Stag Nation

I've arrived

at a crossroads.

Not sure why

I hate this place.

Four years of preparation?

All i really needed was Zamyatin's brand of debilitated imagination

Plus I feel as though I'm paying a price

For what I thought was part of the process

For not fitting in with the "college likeness"

I guess I have a lot to learn

I guess.

Regardless...

the years progress...

still dying

Still...