what if the sun were a detonator

to nuclear spirituality: and your memories were woven silk across the face of all the innate suffering, unleashed, whispering, unoiled gears crying in the dark. only a splay of white blindness to cut through lost sensation will revive the will of buried oak, or water walls. sifting through the thick on a stormy precipice before an open solar system while you dangle your old rags as a sacrifice to the power eked by will, you tend to see blood bubbles, gushers, and you offer your head by means of axe or adz, you don't mind, you're not there.

life
it is
unfair

happiness is as simple as a shimmer
open windows, the mouths of of life
devouring sites

a melody rollercoaster
a steamroller

you always have what you don't have
until you open your eyes
then you have what you had

i've known sorrow
never great
i'm accepting
tigers smile
warriors smile

on my knees
with my head down

the ground;
it's always there!



soft knees on hard ground

it's good to feel solemn, in your place
it's then that you are in your mother's arms


people who walk the earth exist as people who walk the earth
people who do not exist as people who walk the earth
live for eternity

we find a way to bring distance close
we make of it, feeling, sight, sound

dear distant friend,
it's after midnight
i spent my night on the furniture of the young
their eyes are always more lit than mine
their blood thinner
i feel like a reptile
fried, chafed by the sun
of life that exists only to be
brighter, more sentient
i could survive dancing
in raging fire
if i had the right eyes
that see no notion of end
that know no sense of pretend
everything is real
everything is right
in the morning i'll say
goodnight