This presence you're caught earlier than you'll ever be again

Cynical and drunk and boring someone in some dark café, you laugh he said you think you're immune

After all, with the destination being the grave or dispersed, silent in flight, the sun will continue to rise, though brilliance is fleeting…...

foil scrapes on your lips resulting from waste prevention

gradually realize why you're no longer invited cos your pragmatic aged soul can't assimilate

then how do you apply the sense and get along with the rest the best?

there are voices I anticipate
laughs which reverberate

it's wicked beat

This seedy surveil might follow a familiar ill lit path to where you settle and fester
and when I'll gag my eyes tear and close and there's the head detached watching me ____less
a measure entertained by my own cadence

I don't know where I've been

I love to think you are my shepherd
I'd still love to think you keep me in line

Run from deep hue
it's seeping to your stance
based
basics basically fucked

Fill out an application

your scent we need to sample,
god, I'm sorry, we have to critique
what we can get, say, let me tell you
don't wear that which only blends

don't believe you're nothing special

Edit

You wore legwarmers
and Chuck Taylors

and I don't have any recollection of who this was regarding,
I just opened a recent document and found an observation.
Maybe she will visit me in my sleep.
Maybe she already did.

obsolete frills

I don't need to win

it's a matter of convincing self I don't want to win

frozen stoic or heated elements

some canvas will burn

not as symbol, but as lesson 

can progress/stillness show if there is no show

evidence is a category which proves irrelevant, 

as one cannot diagnose a state of consciousness

you maybe are, is, be

may be considered as,

organic matter, 

(like no one already knows this,

well I mean the way some o'you strut onward

because you really are not aware, but ashamed)

can't live your life asking questions all the way?

what are you here for? what do you hear for?

I fancy removing your ears, it won't hurt

you abuse sound and torture your insides

you can tolerate it.

maybe you'll yak less.

August light

Kind of craving these rays

Bazar Bizar in Belgium

wo zu gehen, unfertige

washed up waste while your washing wastes
you toss around resource and dismiss primitive utility
a renewable you which, so unnoticeably, is decaying all the same
Your preservation will fail because you lack regard for antiquity
Some could take a tongue lashing but your territorial bull
shit
will repel and we're left to pray (nature forbid) for your spawn's brains if you don't let us in

Gregari

Grant me a thing 

of praps social excellence

'n I might not give a wonder

cos it's established it's not gon change

Blurred Florence

35mm, Oregon coast, no edits, Sept. 2013. Lovely weekend in a lovely place with an old friend and her family.

Gemurmel

afraid of my shadow
luzluminating the edges of my lashes and speckled intake are meltng m

Dehydration

Chapped delusional lips manage to squeak in questioning of how one could turn art into a lifestyle but one cannot claim their lifestyle is art. Some movements mean more than the average room-cruiser aimlessly stirring the current of what used to be a still space, each breath fully distinct from the next and still every notion goes discredited. How does one know when they're in the right place in the wrong time? Or the wrong place at a time-telling challenge intended to cleanse you and you're ingesting it wrong. Shameful sloth.

Make friendly

of oneness and continuity, a venture in essence.

allow the ocean's representation,

observe purely justified ardor and sincerity

because these legged containers are the means of dynamism 

perception is waving

stillness is ever fleeting.

hold the door, don't you enter this warped corridor
it might dissolve behind you.

Nay this
reverse the rusting
and bring me to a station east,
after those rail rattling,
gear grinding vessels
that I chase beside trails, surreptitious behind stumps, trunks
catching light in the evening which passengers
mistake for having slipped
I linger between each coach
watching you try to sleep.

Brine

By torchlight quiver

hours flicker to their snuff via

divine waters which

lap to tease my roots

I am timid by your approach

and your frigid span,

I hover these slabs

always slightly elevated and I'm feeling

but in rays of color.