Burial

The Future Beckons

He shuts his creaking car door looking past the parking lot towards the gray buildings meshed with the surrounding trees. The wind blows cold in his face, pushing itself unto the crowded pathway, where walkers and workers trudge along their predestined path. But the wind is cold, and he looks into it, he looks at the institution, is this what I was destined for? All around him there are lies told to oneself, ignorance founded in oneself, delusions blessed by each other, dreams dreamt by another. 

The cruelty of the institution saps itself into what we wish to believe. He walks, with the sounds of others footsteps guiding him, like beacons flaring in a darkening sound scape. beaming lights, screeching at a halt in the presence of a perceived ill motion. They are all walking in the same direction, going to the same class, taking the same courses. Directionless, bearing the fruits never, pushing into a wet clay wall, walking into the grips of White Death.

Death, is the failure of your course. Your ineptitude, naturally taking control of your life, guiding you to where you will eventually be, to what you will become.

And I look into to the cold winds, into the sun hidden in the clouds, shining arbiter. Destined hero of my dreams,who pursues the ineffable, the transient beam of hope that holds true in the gripes of reality. I look at these buildings, the grayness that chains me and becomes of me; the steel vibrating within the edges of my bones.

I am chosen, chosen to die chosen to buy chosen to fly. Chosen to continue forth, forthwith, wittingly and willing to take hold of the future. The future is in my hands, it is there. 

I see the numbers, between the impulses that surge in and out of my brain. The impulse to conquer what I cannot see, to collapse that which does not concede. Because I am greater, I am future. Brazen in these cold winds, unshakeable in the coldest winds, corruptible only of my own willingness. For these numbers they sprawl and possess. They fall down and realign into something new, an interjection within the stagnant.

I will die at the mercy of the cement that holds these walls up. The relentless protuberance that extends this space. Standing taller than me and more known. Standing colder winds and beaming sun rays, standing years, and human eyes. I will become more than what is thought to be possible. The future beckons me, with one hand in front and the other reaching towards my mine. 

We will do this together, traversing the coldest of landscapes, highest peaks of wintery revocation, a patroon of earned privilege. 

I am future. Breaking what is known and thought. What should be correct. The status quo is interject able and illusory. It is malleable and definable. It is in my hands. And as I walk into the blackraven building, with its one eye focused on me, I present the future, in everything. Shining illustriously in the face of adversity, considering every possibility, processing immediately, and giving out my hand in help. For thees buildings will only define me temporarily. and they will become of me. I am the archetype of the world, constructing what has been built. I am possessive of my knowledge and my degree. 

I can make it. and I will. 

Zomby

With Love

I remember as a child my large box of lego pieces. There were thousands of them, all from different sets that my father had bought me. After I finished building the structure on the box I would break it down and make so many other things. Grande cities stacked on colorful bricks, racetracks that zoomed from under bed into the living room. At that age I found the possibilities to be infinite, that there was one city unlike the others, the slick and oozing yoke of boredem was beyond my atmosphere.

Grandiosity in uncontrollable curiosity is a force that escapes most. It's a certain twitch that is undefined in its necessity to find something in the environment, something unknown. To look for a certain deviation or error of some sort and hopefully find a way if not to correct it, to implement it. Here is where I lurked, in the moldy basement of my mothers house, searching in the heaps of luggage and junk for something. I found a crevice between a large black plastic that had odd protrusions stretching it out along side a large dusty leather duffel bag. There was a darkness within these items that lured me into a spiders web and along with it its deceased and liquidized prey. In that time I wailed my arms aggressively to rid of the cobwebs but all that came of it was a piece of broken glass deeply inserted into my thigh. I stood there looking at what had just fallen into me, this sullied glass covered in dirt and blood. I was stunned by it, and it hurt very much but I stood there for a very long time just staring at what had just entered my body, the effects of it. And if it was not enough, I walked out the basement and up the porch steps to look for help.

It was in this same house that I grew close to the natural inhabitants of the earth. All my days I would spend them discovering new bugs, studying their actions and natures. After all, each distinct bug has its own distinct personality, a certain movement that separates them from the rest of the creatures. In mornings I would spend my time killing off those wretched red hundred legged critters that littered the basement and most corners. Hours passed when I looked within one of the garbage cans to find it completely infested by a hive of maggots. I stared deep into the terrifying abyss of the swarming larvae, the putrid smell was intoxicating and the twisted idea of me falling into the garbage can came to the forefront of my mind.

At midday I would spend most of my time watching bees fly in and out of their hives. I would see them travel from flowers to their hive or I would see other bees scout the environment, patrolling the area. Some of them would spot me and pester me at my porch steps. I greeted them with a handshake. And when I opened my hand, the dying bee laid there, right under the spot it had stung me. I did this many times, not for cynical purposes but to see which bees survived. Generally, the worker bees that came to sting me would die after one sting. But there were scarce few that survived the impact and those that did I did not kill. I understood that some bees were stronger than others even if there innate task was the same. That there is a small percentage that are indeed stronger in the most exclusive ways, despite their position.
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At night the galaxy swirls in mysterious ways.
 Chaotic shifts in the sky cause rifts to ripple open,
 nauseating darkness spreads outwards...

A cloud appears
suffocating the world in its overwhelming black distinction
Under it tenebrous waves it lays...
Colossal towers of teal steel

They are quickly realized
and established
under everyone's perdition

Beneath their mountainous bodies people are crushed
firmly between the face and the soot
 of what they'd all created

As these structures rest on the earth they release a seething gas,
and an alienating beam
that carves its way across the planet
towards other towers

I and others look up high into the green decaying sky
 and I cry
WHY?
And a hidden man looks out of the his tall tower and down at me and screams manically,
 with happiness and zeal in his lungs,
You Know Why!
 Human Do You Know

It is when the winds begin absolving into their final forces,
when the sky shatters into falling pylons
like stalagmites
bursting into the soft belly of the earth

 It is when from the very center of vibrating melted metals
that ice presents itself
as the glacial essence of the universe
to form a frozen kiss of death

And amidst the swarm of chaos that clutches so at my heart
 I feel within the fissures that curse the land
a ghostly exhale
 that pushes me off the edge...

And I fall...
into the caverns of the earth
Into the blast of frigid air that only dares at my deathbed
to bring me back up forth
into this tortured world

And I dare to ascend
to reach the finite heights of these nefarious towers
to pass by Death itself
and find myself at the window of the hidden God

And when I walk into the tower from its highest peak
I enter his room of horned ridges
and dripping black steel
of illustrious mirrors that reflect me
from a thousand angles

I look ahead and I see a flight of stairs
and as if nothing had ever occured on earth
a serene silence envelopes the tower

and from deep under the thousands of floors
I hear a periodic hammering on an anvil
the sound is chilling and reveberating
as it echoes up the tower

It sounds like a heavy hammer of unbreakable ice
slamming away at something made in a blazing heat
as if the smith has a tremendous force
that is unyielding like time itself

As I delve deeper into the tower
the sound becomes impenetrable
the intervals between each hammering
become nightmarish in the controlled silence

And out of the darkness that covers my eyes
I see from the flight of stairs
an open door with a blue ghostly light pouring out

And each time the hammer drops
the light shines ever so harder
just for an instance

I make my way down the last step
and approach the door
I peer into it and I see
 A cloaked man smithing an object
lost in the glowing sparks

Finally he slams one more time down on the anvil
and picks up the newly constructed item
 a crown

He looks into my direction and says...
You Have Come a Great Way To Find Me Here
He looks down at the bony crown
that sparkles with a dense gleam
I Have Made This For You

For me?
Yes. You Were the One Who Ascended
You Will Be the Only One Left Alive
Shall You Die With Your Kind?

And for a second I try to look at his face
to see his eyes or his cheek bones
but there is nothing there
nothing human.

I take the crown into my hands
and I place it upon my head
its metallic touch felt so chilling
and morbose

Above my eyes
a slow bending blueness oozes its way downwards
My hairs begins falling off
and my skin loses its pigmentation
My bones solidify in the merciless frost
that consumes me whole

While my home slowly burns away
I am alive and immortal
in the glacial towers that rule the sky.

Lone

Galaxy Garden

A man is a lone island

 silenced of those souls around him

 acquainted by the bearing of his roots

 True

 crystals of radiant light burst out of very few

 But only those whom you will decide to pursue.

And it was upon this very island that the man found himself drifting ashore. Out of the purple waters of descending blue airs, his heir, the name of the One Spiraling Star, he laid there. On the sand he was parallel to the humming ocean, yearning for droplets that shatter into folding ripples. Crystallized into the deeper spaces of the ocean's membrane, he felt petrified by the vying eye of God's Galaxy. His own eyes bore blistering darkness, colors of which where released upwards into the atmosphere where immense pylons bore the fruit of his mothers essence. And there they stood as if sustaining the sky itself amidst the pressures that filled the heavens and the bountiful sky.

He opened his eyes but he could not see, he closed them and there he was, undoubtedly free.

 Free to express natures gift in instances where no witness could dismiss his geyser of impudence in their fidgeting ignorance.

 A mist fell on this small, lost island. Sparks zapped through the water filled air, traveling to he laying there on the sand. It cocooned his soft skin ever so gently with their teething energies combined, and took him sky high across the fluorescent clouds. He yelped in the primal state that he was born in and grasped at heights he'd never known, hoping to latch on to something... just...something. But it was nothing you see, and he fell down through the perpetuating mists into purple waters. 

And there he was under waters finely formed dove of fluidity. He widened his arms and clapped, sending a tidal wave through the ocean, breaking focus of all those living underwater. He stood there under the foamy gaze of displaced light and felt the oncoming wave as it returned to him. He saw before him dark figures come into light as they zipped past him just like the energy that he'd released... racing all around him... titanic sharks and crimson wings, diamond heads and coral kings, Viney peasants and fluttering things, particle specks and filthy fins. Their force pushed him aback, into the grasp of unending coral reefs. And it was there where he heard the soft spiraling whispers of his aquatic One Lone Star. Far.. under the darkening mar of a celestial heart.

He opened his eyes to be relieved that he was still sitting on sand. Behind him he saw trees as they expanded themselves through calculated knowledge of their unfailing arms. And in the darkness of the night, in the sighing of the sky, there was peace... found up high, up high... in God's Golden Sky.

Daphni

Jiaolong

In circles the sun blared its energy, passing all leaves unto his eyes. He awoke and slid down the slippery tree into muddy ground and fogged air. The mud slowly moved up his legs and beneath him he could feel worms squirming between his toes. He looked forward, past his half naked self and saw nothing more than jungle stretching far and wide, across distances that his eyesight could not provide. He walked there. And started to run. The trees around him spoke in green tongue, the waters splashed words and puddled time. He stopped at one odd tree, its curvature appealing and its leaves like any other tree, but brighter. He saw a long creature crawl up the tree, its thousands legs working in unison to reach a leaf. He noticed its antennae and how they seemed to notice his presence, as they randomly bustled over its head, moving in all directions. And atop there were birds, screeching for food, praising the wind in their utmost existence. He smiled at the world, at the freedom the planet stresses on its inhabitants.
 He sprinted forward once more, blurring his surroundings, fixated on the slowing of time... slowly... jumping... across the valley.
 As he fell he felt the spray of the waterfall and heard the birds squawking as if they were right next to him. He was flying he thought, he teared as the wind rushed up against his cheeks and they soon became part of the water falling. He fell in a straight line down into the clear water and bereft of power, he let himself go. Under the water he kept his eyes closed and found himself in a small cavern where he opened his eyes. Light shone from the small crevice which he'd fallen through, the water was warm and when he looked around he stood petrified at the sight of eels. They surrounded him with their vicious faces, slithering about him with their long tails almost touching their sharp teeth. In spirals he could feel their slippery skin, they swam through his hair and under his feet, often times releasing bursts of electricity. But they did not hurt him. With no air left he arose from the cavern and swam to the river's edge.
And it was then when in the corner of his eye he saw specks in the sky, like black diamond stars, in opposition to the sun's exuberance. He did not like them and bellowed in the sky, baring his fists in the air. And he did not do so as to intimidate the celestial strangers but as an homage to his trust in the Sun. Consequently, the jungle reciprocated his outcry with the mighty roar of a black leopard that darted past him into the consuming shrubbery. He sprinted right after her when something struck him, leaving a vertical cut down his arm. He stood there astonished, for never had he been hurt in such an... impersonal way. He saw a silver rock gleaming with his blood on the ground, he went to grab it but it cut deep into his fingertips.
Up in the sky the sound of weight and heat echoed down into the tumult of the jungle. And it was then when he saw them enter, thousands of them. The once specks had entered the atmosphere. They'd become massive pyramids concentrated with seething energy that trailed behind their eviscerating paths. A black unbreakable light beamed out of the tips of these descending crafts and it was an ominous sight, like a vertical space grid of deep black lines targeting the earth. They came down with furious speed and force, one came so close that the man could feel the blast wave as it landed. He ran to the site and along the way he saw the black leopard atop a tree, she looked down at him as if she'd been waiting for him and trailed behind him.
As he ran towards the fallen craft a thick greasy exhaust shrouded the jungle and a garbling sound pulsed throughout the air, disturbing all those who lived near by. He arrived at the blast site, the pyramid like craft was gigantic and argent with oil oozing out of its spinning components. Its pieces picked up pace and soon it was drilling into the ground... He watched in terror as the same little rock that had cut him was now cutting into mother earth. Soon the pyramid had vanished and all that was left was a gaping hole in the earth with splashes of oil covering the ground. Fumes were coming out of the hole and the pulsing continued. He looked behind him but only saw the leopard, he looked around but his family had run away from the mechanical beast.

He stood there in front of the cavernous hole and all around him he could hear other crafts digging into the ground. He soon began tearing from the smoke that filled his eyes, the intense heat had left him dizzy and nauseated. And he looked up on more time, into the clear sky, upon the hot sun and walked down, into the hole.

Hot Rats

Hot Rats

It was a warm summer day when a freight train zoomed passed the two boys. It's whistle boomed as large plumes of exhaust cleared the smoke stack. The train was pulling along with it numerous cargo wagons of which the boys so hastily tried to jump on. The first boy, Jim, a 17 year old corn-country born nomad took off with astounding force and in one swift motion, climbed aboard the passing wagon and slid open its thick metal door. "George get yer ass up here now or never!"
The other boy a tad younger and bulkier was panting," Man fuck this! Why cant we just keep walking!" But Jim was only focused on getting him on the train so with a firm grip on the handle bar he angled himself enough to grab a handful of George's shirt and yanked him on the wagon. They both sat there in stacks of hay gasping for air and laughing at their recklessness.

"Goddamnit George when I say go you gotta move your fatass as fast as possible!"
 "Alright alright, im just hungry thats all."
"Dont worry we'll find food over where we're headin, not to mention some fine young girls.."
"This better not be another one of your pipe dreams, im tired of landing in disastrous shit."
Jim rolled his eyes at George's last remark and fell back into the hay not expecting the sudden sharp pain that surged up his back.
"OWWW what the FUCK." Jim rubbed his lower back and furiously looked through the hay only to find a large boot attached to a bony leg to be the culprit. His eyes ran up the uncaring leg and found a waist, a beaten chest and the sullen face of a homeless man smiling back at him through what teeth he had left. "You son of a bitch that hurt alot, I should beat you silly." Jim howled at the bum.

And from the darkest corner of the wagon a voice spoke with concentrated ire,"You should watch who you threat...boy." The voice then revealed itself to be another homeless man but this one was much stronger and nourished than the other. He wore a ragged black overcoat and had long black hair that touched his shoulders, a menacing stare and a large scar running from his chin to his chest. A third man revealed himself as well and that's when Jim and George began to panic. Their fears became real when the three men took hold of them and with a final comment from the scarred man ,"Piss off." were thrown off the moving train into the grimy dirt from whence they came.

Covered in clouds of dust and dirt they groaned, got up, and began walking down the endless set of train tracks. It was about midday when the forest surrounding the boys finally cleared and was replaced by acres and acres of crops. They got off the tracks and walked through the crops until they  reached a dirt road that eventually led to an intersection. To the south it said Blackshear 35 miles, Jim smiled,"Were almost there mate."

The boys we're uneducated, homeless, unruly but never whined about labors like this. For they knew what this lifestyle entailed and had grown accustomed even fond of its hardships. If anything true, it in fact helped them develop character and a certain resilience unseen from most young boys their age.

 In no time they soon arrived to the township of Blackshear; a dwindling conservative town still desperately clinging unto its heydays long gone in the past. It is true that the world is becoming more and more democratic everyday but this only promoted the stagnation of the town. There main source of income once came from the exploitation of another man through hard labor and now comes from the corruption of women through whore houses which are riddled across the deteriorating town. And so the boys decided to stop by and enjoy the one and only thing the town can offer.

After a few minutes they stood at the steps of Neshaminy Inn, one of the most recognizable brothels around. They entered the gloomy establishment and were immediately confronted by a large white man who in a rude tone announced their arrival. "Ah looky here, a couple of sorry boys looking for a cute girl huh? Well only if you got the penny...and seeing as how y'all are dressed in shit ima have to ask y'all to leave."
But before the man could push them into the streets Jim with a sly look on his face flipped a gold coin whose golden shimmer sent the hick aback. "It's best not to assume such things, sir."
Jim looked back at George and with a victorious smile walked past the guard and into the casino.
"And just what the hell do you think you're gonna do there?" asked George.
"Im gonna spike our money, just watch."
George knew that Jim had a knack for poker but was afraid that his gambling would cost them their meals. But Jim was a stubborn son of a bitch who would throw all his efforts in a given opportunity and so went to exchange his coin for chip. Jim then began to eye out which tables had the serious players. He spotted a table of men whose manner of being, age and demeanor was intimidating. Jim knew that half the game of poker was won through bluff. And so he headed towards the table and sat across the dealer.

 There were six players on the river with hearts dominating and no high cards. "Call" crowed a devious looking man in sullen brown plaid with locks of disheveled hair covering a seemingly dead eye. The man noticed Jim examining him and gave him a crooked smile in which his set of gold teeth shimmered in the casino's hazy, drunk setting. He flung six 20 dollar chips and the table responded with two calls and one fold. The men flipped their cards starting with a timid looking man who grinned when he completed the 7 high heart flush. Dead Eye as Jim befittingly named the devious man tossed pocket 8's, defeating the flush with 3's full of 8's. The last man bore failure in his face as he foolishly flipped 2, 6 pair. Dead Eye snorted and proceeded to augment his chip stack.

 Jim carefully noted the last man and the underlying reasons as to why he might have called Dead Eye with such a weak hand aside from of course, sheer stupidity.  But with no time to go over such hypothetical scenarios the next hand had begun and he was handed 10 of heart and 9 of spade, a fair hand. He threw in for the blind and awaited the action of others, one of which, raised triple. Everyone called and the flop presented it self with 7 of club, ace of diamonds and 9 of club. Jim's hand wasn't all too lousy but he knew someone would have ace's and furthermore the flop voided his chance at a ace high straight unless by miracle a king and queen pop up. In any case, Jim held his eagerness and checked along with four others but was raised by one fat man with beady eyes who's chin was layered in what looked like chicken grease. The raise was minor, 10 dollar chip, a safe bet that Jim was comfortable with which took the pot to 240 dollars. The next card was flipped, 2 of diamonds, useless.

One card was left to flip and it was then that something in Jim's strategy snapped along with the rustle of a girls skirt across the casino hall. "Hey gal... how 'bout you go buy me a drink or two huh?" Jim, cracked a smile at her as he tipped his chair to get a better look at her as she passed by. She turned back at him and said, "Hey boy you better keep your eyes on the game now."She returned the smile and left to get the drinks. Jim took her advice and focused on the game, it was his turn in fact, and everyone was looking at him. "Raise 60 or Fold?" said the dealer, "Huh?" Jim peered down at the last card, 9 of heart. "You know what. Ill take your offer my friend, I raise 150." The fat man snorted at Jim's beaming confidence, "Ill take you up on that Jimmy Boy." Dead Eye raised 100 more and chuckled," Dont be so quick now to lose your lunch money, boy." One man folded, the fat man raised 250 and so did another. Jim was on the blind and with 150 dollars left, raised 100 more. The pot was at 1000 near and the tension between the men was in sight. But Jim kept his attention to the girl that had yet to come with his drinks.

"Show your hands, gentlemen."
One man concluded with two pair of queens and ace's.
The fat man flipped over pocket 10's.
And then Dead Eye showed off, with an ace high straight and sat in his arrogance, victorious.
"Boy you best be taught before you play with men." he cackled at Jim.
And Jim with fury in his corner eye looked him straight in his rotten face and flew off his hands a full house of 9's and spoke, "Aint no one need no lesson, sir. I done learnt long ago."

 The girl came back just then with two fine beers in her hand, the dealer then said, "A formidable hand sir." Jim took his coin, his beer, and stood up from the table. "And your other beverage? She asked. "Im drunk as it is Red Lips, that ones for you." She looked at him astonished and before she could object, he took her by the waist and walked to the chip exchange.

George saw Jim and approached him, "That was amazing Jim! How much did you make?"
The man behind the counter counted out fifty 20's and five 50's.
"Enough to buy us a couple drinks and maybe some smokes." He smiled and then George asked," And who are you??" "Yes, my fine lady, what is your name?"
"Elizabeth."
"Well Eliza you can stay here attending rotten old men or you can come with us."
"And what exactly what would we do??'she asked.
"That my dear, is a question I don't know the answer to."
And the three of them walked out of the greasy tavern, out into the shining day, leaving behind them the past, the poison, but never the perils that come with life.

Mammal

 Mammal

Sometimes there's nothing to say. 

Sometimes there's a yearning to run away.

 Sometimes people die, but not every day.

I didnt know where I was going, or what I was doing. I didnt know if the darkness in the air would ever reveal itself or if the dank cloud in the sky would ever disappear. But I knew that I was alone in this forgotten trash can of a world. I come out of the soiling earth, out of the impeding shit, lost in zero space with no tolernace for anything. The anger rages everywhere, eviscerating the sky and managing the weak. I want to cry out into the windless night, howling out like a frenzied beast. Like a warped being, crushed by everything that is present. A savage, can I understand what that means? Foul like the melting suns decrepit paste. Beaming, like an entangling fixation to evil. I feel it, under the darkness, I feel it under my excuse. Under my disheveled hair, latching unto every pore of my body. Usurping me of everything, a nocturnal breach of the foundation.

And it isnt easy to defeat the breach, to overcome the besieged. But it is done in every step, in every movement. An ascetic performance shall crush everything.It is impossible to move in every direction, but I cant do anthing else. I am the forgotten burden of the family, the wasted energy of the creed, the last hope of a helpless cult. The unknowing arrogance that bewaits when everyone is asleep. The shriveling sadness and remorse that is left for no one. Leave, leave me. You cannot teach me, for I am the undivided anger, the spinning blades that will sharpen with time. The power in the sky unseen, the ravine under the planted tree. I am gods wit, lifted into falling things.

And why is there need for a breach? Was it brimming arrogance? Outstanding devotion? The pinnacle of my destruction. An undying love, for my own corruption. Destroy it, don't let it destroy you. Be the fear in the eyes of god, be the knowledge of your undying heart.

Because there will never be anyone, and when nobody is there, nobody was ever there. Nobody cares. There is no love in a scarce land of desecrated individuals. Accept that you are alone, and die in a fiery chaos, in a world swirling, chaotic, rubbing, frolic in hate, wait for Satan, for he comes.

 Or do not accept it, break free from your self, live the way you see fit. And there are no buts. You must accept it or die, die, die, die, you must die. You cannot force it, nor leave it alone, you cannot undo it or succumb. What has become of the Golden God? He has fallen. Fallen down from Angels touch. Because there is no more love. Writhe in hell, in consuming fissures of the vacant souls. In the underlings corner, from the grips of mayhem into the teeth of God.

From the grips of mayhem into to the teeth of God.

All planets are dead.

There is a defining end, that end is in my unrelenting hate. The crushing force that will smash everything noticed. A ruler of kingdoms, destined to release all human understanding into the wind.

And while I do want to destroy everything, I cannot. Because there is no power. And I should not, destroy individually. Because I will desotry myself. So I must destory my enemy, but when everyone is your enemy, who do you kill first?

Run with the Devil.

Kill them first.

Apex

Selected Ambient Works

It was in a white building, wedged between disciples of articulation that I was born.

 This building was tall and slender, windowless, and affirmed by its discoloration. Here, is where I drew first blood from the doctrines of the abstract and inhaled the brumes of obscurity. Where escaped me, did the engulfing bursts of frigid wind into the well of my frail lungs. And how it was, to be enthralled by crystals of pure frost. To be subdued by the pressing particles that arose from the vents of these monotone walls. For it was air that bore me, under the annexment of time.

 Here I grew, in the mystery of life's odd motions and emotions. Uncertain of its notions, or its supposed devotion, towards my emerging body. It was puzzling, how my limbs contorted to the bendable walls, how my hands motions would swiftly stifle the emergence of light within my room. For it only seemed that all light was but a flicker, a mockery of a lifeless sun I had never known.

There was an eerie silence that lurked in my small room. A sort of, residual noise, an underlining trickle of mental clicks that pressed on for countless days. It was a reverberation, a happening that only presented itself as a part of my subconscious. And in the oddities of life it seemed as if this impeding noise shifted with it, deepening shadows, writhing spaces and swarming thoughts.

I watched the walls and the ceilings walls and the floors walls and the walls of my muscles of my bones bouncing off my pulsing cells. And I knew there was something within me, a besiege, a conquest that had created me. I was something not made alone, something formed by another disorderly being.
Am I Besieged?
Is this rigid thought committed to the mires of mind?

I sat in one position often, quite still, knowingly coordinated from other parts of the blank room. And it was from one small hole that light would pierce the shades of my confines. In my silence, light would assertively press itself unto me. My shimmering shoulders, my curving thighs, my transparent fingernails. It would then digress, and illuminate a blanket I had my entire life, the cupboard that was hollow, the long cylinder that erected from one wall.

And one day I pressed my fist into this cylinder, like pressing a finger into the barrel of a shotgun.  I was fearful, I was angry. I was touched. By something else on the other side of the wall. Something that felt like what I had renounced in my agitation, a hand.

But I was spared and I had learned. And even in the minimal confines of my home I grew. For it was not the morphing of walls nor the distribution of light that caused movement. But it was the fluidity of my reflexes, the cycles of my body and the influx of energy that caused uproar.

And that's all that really can be learned about anything.
 Which is that things can dismantle you if you wish it too. That I may fall one day at the hands of another. But once clarity shines down on our ignorant heads will it finally be realized, how unimportant another is. And it is a twisted thought, a squealing opposition to human association.

But it is a principle that creates both beast and God.
 It is the motion that defines the truly odd.
The ideal that seeks no gratification, only truth.

Ash Ra

Ash Ra

Out of bland, perforating darkness are slivers of events, jolting out of neutral space. 

Like slits they bleed through each other hoping for convergence of light.

They pound and thrash at the sky, rattling the expansion of silence in the cosmos.

Their lifetimes are often instantaneous and rarely consequential, but if they latter comes to be, was it really?

A question in relation to its residue. 

 For their beauty is exalted in the tenderest of our somatic universe.

They drop blends and bombs of draining energy from their jaws of life into swirling cocoons of stillness.

 How they entrench the opportunity for future force in a frenzy fathomable only by its inability to confront its visceral pith.

But does that negate its primal behavior?

Or is it the subjugation proposed by the laws of nature, which renders it void?

To choose the former, is to have silenced its beauty, in process. 

And the latter, to have traveled in excess, across its dimensional recess.