fire the bisque ware; cover me in exploding crystals
i smell like polysorbate 20 and latex.
and sometimes the world seems contained in this little jar of life.
one minute im sitting in church, soaking up the unbelief of total turnaround, the next im psychoanalyzing my brain on my bed.
i keep thinking people are real; what if they're not.
what if i'm a lonely ghost walking around in a sea of robots, waiting to be rescued by my heavenly messenger.
who is he, when will he come for me.
these feelings dance in my head until i find myself dancing on my bed, bewitched by endorphins, harmonic voices and out of sync guitars, and the thought of one day knowing all of the world's secrets with my death.
every time i close my eyes, blue lights, with the help of a photographic memory, display words, deeds, people, expressions, all across the invisible hiding spot.
the lookout.
the keep.
the dam.
people and cells share the most unique characteristics.
phagocytosis.
golgi aparatus.
centrioles.
every living thing orbits around an unseen force just as earth worships the sun.
into the night, whatever it takes.
kicking and screaming, take me into lamented darkness.
let me excise it.
kill it, torture it until it coughs up blood, stab it with knives, take revenge on the one who causes people to plumet into temptation.
destroy it.
i will tie him to nails. kill him with planks.
revenge.
but that is not my place at all.
dip only my fingers in that dark substance, tell them what i do, who i am, what i have done.
yeah, and light will pour out of every last hole, disintegrating lonelyness, choking despair, murdering evil.
have life engulf me, drink every last drop by pinocytosis.
devotion.
patronage.
expulsion.
redemption.
repentance.
one day i will teach you the secrets of this world.
if you could only listen, if you could only feel me.
feel me as my spirit dances, as i see the world and its fleeting heartbeat.
i promise you.
and sometimes the world seems contained in this little jar of life.
one minute im sitting in church, soaking up the unbelief of total turnaround, the next im psychoanalyzing my brain on my bed.
i keep thinking people are real; what if they're not.
what if i'm a lonely ghost walking around in a sea of robots, waiting to be rescued by my heavenly messenger.
who is he, when will he come for me.
these feelings dance in my head until i find myself dancing on my bed, bewitched by endorphins, harmonic voices and out of sync guitars, and the thought of one day knowing all of the world's secrets with my death.
every time i close my eyes, blue lights, with the help of a photographic memory, display words, deeds, people, expressions, all across the invisible hiding spot.
the lookout.
the keep.
the dam.
people and cells share the most unique characteristics.
phagocytosis.
golgi aparatus.
centrioles.
every living thing orbits around an unseen force just as earth worships the sun.
into the night, whatever it takes.
kicking and screaming, take me into lamented darkness.
let me excise it.
kill it, torture it until it coughs up blood, stab it with knives, take revenge on the one who causes people to plumet into temptation.
destroy it.
i will tie him to nails. kill him with planks.
revenge.
but that is not my place at all.
dip only my fingers in that dark substance, tell them what i do, who i am, what i have done.
yeah, and light will pour out of every last hole, disintegrating lonelyness, choking despair, murdering evil.
have life engulf me, drink every last drop by pinocytosis.
devotion.
patronage.
expulsion.
redemption.
repentance.
one day i will teach you the secrets of this world.
if you could only listen, if you could only feel me.
feel me as my spirit dances, as i see the world and its fleeting heartbeat.
i promise you.