Africosmokingston

On a yellow morning in the light came the of sight of violent voices and the sounds of angry eyes.

Freedom from the rusted cage turned harder each passing day for the elder tortoise.

Time became a falling rock, acceleration through dimensional mirrors, only to become a stone within an archway in castle de agora.

of once had been people between me

   So strange, to be recognized by those who barely know me, yet ignored by those i have connected with.  Is it a misconception? Is it an ancient frozen narwhal? Is all that is salvageable its DNA?

   (now the dreams are thick and more defined, visual atrocities, light convulsions)

   While the maker sat alone surrounded by itself, the senses dulled to a metaphysical delusion.  Lamps turned into green smelling porcupines. Trees swayed in the wind as lungs, breathing them in and fueling the blood behind the tongue.  Candle sticks flickered in musical rhythms, speaking our ancestors names through the flames.  Dirt gets swept up by roots, families from dust become truth. The sun awakes bristled scratches, latching onto flavored bright white batches.

dream 111,112

   (these doubts attempt to ruin me. is it a struggle with myself or a struggle against reality?)

I dont know how i got here but we are in bed once again.  the sheets consume us both as we grow with each others warmth. now the dark maroon abyss engulfs our bodies as i move to please you. you have a cock, that's something i never noticed before. its small, your testicles are bigger than mine but you penis is smaller, i think its cute.  i lift your butt into the air as i taste your balls and squeeze you.  the look on your face is beyond ecstatic then you cum, all over your bed and face. theres no time to lie down. you quickly shower and dress up take a seat in the booth at the waffle house.  you're in a hurry im having to hunt for you... when i find you in the booth you are ignorant of me as if im just another server without your refill.  i attempt to explain myself but you wont even look at me as if you viewed me with disgust.  appalled at you in realization that you were over my sex, and uninterested in my body, i move out to riot on the midnight new orleans streets.

(now that i'm awake and aware of my fucked up mind it is time to masturbate yet again)

one more first try

the pond ripple has come to peak again.  swaying with the pendulum in absent orange myth, underneath the hollow forest, coaxed in green fleshy film. wear the animals, across your shoulders and around your head. we are the animals, breaking up boulders and decorating the dead. Where are the animals? they were much older than could ever be said.

diamondite implosion

im often curious what tune will be the last we make together.  as time slips beneath our feet like loose gravel on a steep slope.  beneath my crust i am no where near ready to slow down, but this hardened shell has grown heavier and heavier over time.  Burdened with true relations and wants needs to survive and needs of thought.  Maybe it was all fake, im mostly artificial.  For i cannot say where i came up with my self, i was made out of people.  Doesnt that make me synthetic? does that make me artificial?  Too timid to indulge, over fear i may become emotionally overwhelmed.  Sick of testing my depressed hypothesis.  I am unworthy of anything yet expect it all.  I am nothing special yet completely alone.  without words, without emotion, confused with our words, beaten with our emotions.

anti write inn

left out more often... now more than before.  i guess im a freak, or perceived that way through the reflection of light in the mirror.  i am out of the ordinary and my flavor is out of style.  leaving friends hurts.  now i wonder if its worth it to keep gaining more when they will be lost as fast as the others.  what is the point if the reset button will be hit regardless.  it is like me to overreact.

after it's name.

why end! why is there an end in the form of the major wave? An end to the most at once, to call forth those who are righteous,  maybe it simply is the nature of the continuum we are a part of. For the ideals of nature are much aligned with those in touching the aspect of the apocalypse.  Out of extreme chaos and anarchy of species, comes the deciding factor (of time) that some creatures are deemed unacceptable, at times.  There would be know people if there weren't triceratops buried beneath us. Armageddon is an ever more happening occurrence, along side an expenditure of particular exponential life.  Armageddon is the growth of knowledge within its spectrum, an infertile seed within the maze of evermore glorified life.

A mirror on the ground, up on th ee ar th.