Wanna die when we know everything

Wanna die when we know nothing

Life recycles

Impatient for basic needs like cosmic peace and divine purpose

Instead of manifesting out of reach destinies

We’re on our knees

Worshipping stars

At makeshift moon altars

Praying for rent, safety, experiential soul food

Cry climbing self-actualizing summits

Tearing through shadows of third-eye vapors

Dream fragments

That seem to linger like bruises from human shrapnel

Wounded skin-bag warriors

Erupting in avalanches of trigger rock

Or the all too easy, naked and afraid ones

Carpaccio people bleeding on the barbed wire walls surrounding hardened hearts

I hate you

Don’t leave me

The sweet spot is surrender

A little to the left or right

Of that puddle on the bed under bodies where source energy poured out remnants of herself as an offering to the gods of immortality

A little death never hurt anyone

For long

Living somewhere between rage, grief, gratitude and awe

All of it fresh

All of it raw

Wounds like trail bacon

Leaving bloody breadcrumbs wherever we go

Mopping apologies

From our sopping wet face

Constantly coughing

Incantations under each successive

Concentric cycle

Lunar rounds

Shots fired

Piercing eyes and tempting flesh

Till we return to the grounding stability of Luna see

Weeds

Chop wood

Carry water

Grind

Reap

Fish

Gut

Sow

Repeat

Waiting for things we’re not supposed to want

And never get attached to

Let them

Go, go, goooo

No

Now you know why Buddha’s always laughing

And Jesus faked his own death to run away with his shady girlfriend

That sweet surrender spot

is actually way off center

Off

Up

Out

In

Through

The end of sanity is where life begins

It’s actually crazy if we truly consider where we come from

A volcanic caldera of death and rebirth

Wanted or not

We arrive

Blind, screaming, squirming

Helpless, hungry, wet

Strange brewed beings wriggling forth from electric sex and amniotic goo

That’s me and you

Eccentricity is the absolute key to freedom

Get off, stop at strange and stay there

Here

When the world continues to be contractually obligated to senselessness

Over time

We become so ecstatically engaged

In debaucherous creative nonsense

Nothing and no one would dare to bother bringing us back to a reality even they suddenly begin to question in the beautifully grotesque presence of you and me~

found stuck between digital sheets