I don’t feel myself thinking anymore

It just happens and I find a deep hole to reach into. Illuminating thousands of sessions.  I break them down and give myself in[to] more. I leave every expectation at the door and Follow my senses forward. It gives me shivers to think about how everything could be just a flaw. And we’re all here together to fix it.



Receding thoughts that we emulate,
like conversationalists,
disastrous neurosis, insofar we loathe compromised,
with morning sex and daydreams of regress.
The scenarios once made up,
once gave celebrity status to our recent attachments,
find it on the notch of our bedframe,
as a reminder, that nothing last longer than the salutations of the actual moment,
time slows down when we recollect a time it once happened,
we can harness the once felt memory,
and emotions,
experience is drawn further away from our memory,
and there’s room for change,
and emotion, motionless,
we may feel,
and only wholesome thoughts come into play,
we’re not so much dismissed by the inconclusive, but the entrenched factors,
that smokey rooms entail,
when we’re not physically there,
just text me when you get home,
and I’ll trust myself to not,
break the sentences with misspelled cursed words,
I’ll send you a thank you and a nice to know that you still think I’m the best you had.

turning forewords

I am more than this, you know? I am more than what I say I am. Like others including myself, I have been given a chance into discovering myself a little further.  I gathered the strength to turn around after “almost” falling off a cliff, or drive through the tunnel instead of away from it.  I have felt the wind take a hold of me like it loved me since I was born; it told me to hold on for a little longer.  Saying, she’s out there, and she’ll bare your children.  Your children will run through this field, where you remain in a contemplative
state , and they’ll never know how you felt here, but you can show them how to let go, and enjoy life’s greatest blessings.  You have experienced it for this purpose of “knowing.”  Don’t be naive, says myself, don’t think you’re just here without question and reason.  Don’t think you have to rid yourself because you think it’s better to let a soul escape.  Yes, it’s best to let go, but hold on and embrace the valuable moments you’ve yet to experience.  You’ve made it here, and you’ve made it with the help of others.  They deserve to see you happy for they’d want the same from you because you’ve helped them.  You’ve been gifted with the mind and body to experience, and the soul to grow and become revolutionary, in this world and for the universe to come.

Paradoxial Concept

Futures not achieved are only branches of the past: dead branches. – Italo Calvino Invisible Cities

 Think outside the box.

It can mean revealing the seminar of contradictions and sermons that constitutes conflict, within the subconscious and coherent mind.  It is because we, as individuals with an unknowable state of transcendence and asceticism living in a compressed, but growing universe are bewitched by a society of fools, jokers, innovators, and the damaged.  We have become a paradox that’s become entangled in repeating phrase after expression after repression, insofar leading to multiple revolutions, and then we become reborn again.

What are we without our land, without our country, without laws, without our people, without our homes?  Now ask, what constitutes land in the context of a country in the context of laws amongst people within our homes?

It’s everyday nuances, nuisances, and random moments that can enlighten us from the everyday coma.


Desolate is, me, engulfed by nothingness, yet everything around us; moving.  The mind moves faster than our words escape us, and revelations happen on tomorrow’s end.  I love the: at home, the at rest, the body of a sheltered soul.  And the obstacle of establishment is that the dreamers trapped inside the reality. The individuals that escape only through the stifled, and the dreamers who only escape through the dead nights – alone.

Understand me in the palace of fine truths and sacred hearts; feel me devour the science of courting tongues.

Enlighten the black-and-white canvas, paint through the portrait of yourself.