Clouds can be slippery.
Thin ice may break.
Stay nimble on nimbus.
Tie up your skates.
Needing means to keep progressing.
Seems a dream is being tested.
Reason to believe, reaching perceptively, leads to means to breathe successfully.
Im breathing so.
Shan’t need to heave just seem to glow.
Too much bass to think.
Breathing fast while breathing lasts with grief achieving conscious paths reading into evil wrath with seemingly secret thieving laughs.
Traveling. Lost. Reaching and dreaming. Absorbed in kindness. Reformed by the mindless. The mess that leads to thought realizing. Expression of the weaving. The winding. Dividing. The binding. A system of action in a field of reaction. Curling. Dipping. Fingers gripping the moons of past while lifting our eyes to the stars from the grass and even close to our even flows we feed the warmth up through our toes.
Distance realness so close I can feel it. Breathing objections laced with themes. So appealing. Sometimes I sit. Other times I stand. All the time my mind is where I flood it down out through my hand. Infecting society with the abstract. Distracting weary eyes with fascination. Intention lies in contemplation. Perhaps a gibberish cycle aint means for survival. But maybe it lives in us all and were fighting. The will to see our world igniting. The will to embrace all the beauty disgraced by a world that fights love with souls so afraid. Beings trapped in fear. Communal suicide. Losing hope. Choosing sides. Believing hate. Denying the ride. I wonder how many wake up to escape. If daily thought evacuation is therapy for all twisted nerve endings. We are brilliant. Still we’re filled with apprehension by societal conventions. Served a plate of think conveniently. Convenience is poison. We can avoid the portion maybe if we all join forces maybe if we all run towards it. We can embrace the extravagant, and flood the skies with passion.
Crossroads. All that we know is all we know already. Change is upon us. We can understand only wearing wheels of motion. Our devotion to the sky is wavering. Commotion in our eyes won’t let the dark inside us die. Perhaps we are built to seek and never find. Designed to live. Designed to ride. There is no door. There is no finale. If we have truly lived we will never truly die. Bruised by the mad world. Bleeding time. Believing ourselves. We all can wake up. The shine is sunlight. We are all in one fight.
We can feel the life beneath us. The crawling world. The riding tides that speak through moons and arrive in our skies. A feeling of safety. With grass in our toes. A comforting breeze in our ears and our nose. A beauty so uplifting our chest could explode. So awoken those sleeping can still see the road.
Funky homosapiens raping brain awakenings. Happenings completely false with thoughts that snatch our reasons off. Moments trapped in feelings lost. Even in and even out with clouded shrouds and evening sauce. Boss of tricking boss of trade with severed junkies overpaid. Disgusting actions mixed reactions diving rising satisfaction. Perhaps its dollars ripping gently in a head where steam is venting. Relenting plays relenting days inventing ways to simply stay.
Breeding anger reading, hanging, seeing nothing, falling, dangling, overlooking, under thinking, thumbless picking dripping madly, sadly finding evil patterns, wake to wonder, under panic, over tragic dreams were having, search discover, leaving, traffic, solamente, psychosomatic.
Divide and conquer. Going bonkers. Craziness inside my process. Legs and feet inside my dockers. Pen and paper brain unconscious. Lost is fading lost is finding. Lost but wrapped with minds for binding. Stear for passion jump for joy. Kneeling left to altar boys. Run and walk somewhere between. Appear obscene heal fear and leave.
The rollercoaster is hosting jokers.
Passion. Grief. Respect and admiration.
Hopeful wishing. United souls. Divided brothers.
Up and down. With tears of love bending down to float above.
Feelings of failure in a trial of striving,
laughing and crying, falling and rising.
My brother can’t speak.
My brother still reaches.
My brother is weak.
My brother still reaches.
Together by season.
United by region.
A trial of passion.
That lacked satisfaction.
Once was forever.
A broken endeavor.
Two lives colliding gently.
Two lives arising empty.
So it seems so doomed.
By the heart shaped balloon.
The vision is out west.
Or so coallision would suggest.
Evil thinking spirits sinking feeling sober needing drinking. Need or want I bleed disgust. Vices pending apprehending thoughts that send my brain for lending. Eyes and ears and love and fear, senseless acting lacks retracting. Controlling now enjoying then, distracted man one five plus ten.
Severe is near.
Its clear it is.
Reaching out makes arms lose wrists.
Blessed and depressed with a hole in the chest.
The eyes see blue when the clouds wear gray.
Craziness splits us into an abyss with a ferocious rip that needs a seamstress.
Perhaps its believing we ever could be.
Perpetually loving with clouds on our feet.
Riddle robbery solid sloppily.
Wicked mischief execution astonishing.
Lost. Feeling rotten.
Wisdom blocked by the not forgotronics.
Asked me to stay.
But the night turned to day.
Asked me to leave.
But I stayed on the tree.
Why not both?
Bread and toast.
Feeling so free.
More free than most.
They say its not legal but people are evil.
Invaded by terror and thoughtless procedure.
Gunshots from fever with necks under cleavers.
Relieving our senses from dreaming believers.
Misjudged by our being with poisonous feelings.
Decision to neglect embracing the madness.
Hateful advances towards stealing our chances.
Leaping for affection and floating on tranquility.
Neglecting imperfections and ignoring our fragility.
Chasing clouds for walking facing voices in us talking.
Passion over reason never skipping loving season.
Police with shattered eyes saving grace through battered limbs faking aim embracing sins compensating pain within. Hate portrayed around as a wave no longer found but with ignorance and fear our children learn to live oppression. Learn to walk regression drift away from introspection choosing now above progression. A lesson we all need is that societies a thief stealing thoughts that are so free to give us hooves to walk like sheep.
I’ve got time.
I’ve got no time.
Dreams I thought I had I just can’t find.
I’ve got no time.
I’ve got time.
Breathing just to keep my world alive.
I’ve got time.
I can’t rewind.
Most alive each time I lose my mind.
In my time.
Along my ride.
Finding every reason to survive.
Within my mind.
Darkness traps the light inside the skies.
Reaching out to find the souls like mine.
Wide eyed to wander.
The brains first responder.
The feet that react cause in time we provide a mission for walking outside of the lines.
Avoiding all sleep cause I don’t need much time if a second of dreaming leaves stories behind.
Ground control is crossed.
Air controls are lost.
A thieving freedom reason is it seems we all just need it.
Reading leads to heaving spasms.
Reason being: dreams we’re having.
Creation minds are weaving havoc.
Senseless times of laughing madly.
Seems so tragic.
Leads to reason, beauty’s pathway.
We must use it while we have it.
Crazy notes for crazy folks bleeding lovely breathing jokes.
We have to save ourselves.
We need someone to show us the way.
Memory is dipped in action.
Reaction is married to passion.
In the cold of new restrictions.
Elaborate schemes and contradictions.
Writing sessions left with lessons.
Wonderment inscribes a message.
It seems the charcoal gray is blue.
It seems the moon shines right at you.
Although I ran and swung from ropes.
I’m happy to leap with parachute hopes.
Drunk and misty evening twisting. Rise and fall with spirits lifting. Eyes that shine through tilted lids. With thoughts and talk we thought we hid. A great release eradicates the worried mind of scattered faith.
Postponing moments that float through the ocean.
Faithless dives with grooving motions.
Faceless eyes with spirits broken.
Waiting for the perfect moment.
Lost but found, in these dreams of my wake.
It seems I am lifted, with each breath I take.
Honest and pure sensation.
Just another revelation.
Descended upon me, freely as the sun.
Awake together, all as one.
Once again full of wonder.
bs and me
A dive. A lift. A choice. A gift.
A breath we take. That seems to make.
A reason link to every shift.
Every shake. A spark. An ache.
Tip toe the stairs.
Reason being. Evening wear.
On then off. A blink. A stare.
In then out. A dream compared.
Cloud backs rest on the dreamshake boat.
Reason being. We made us float.
Over things that dive through branches.
Leaving reeds like avalanches.
Breathing seems a clear advantage.
Or else our dream is just fantastic.
It seems we can’t just see our actions.
And read into the needless acting.
I don’t know. Just playing the game.
If twenty four were twenty four hundred shit would be way easier.
But what is easy if there is no stopping.
The work will never stop.
Its a good thing to be raised with a paintbrush in hand.
Born to reach inside minds with the captivation fingers.
We are thieving ways to be.
A team of heathens breathing sweetly.
Voices speaking dreams and reason.
To sleep and dream.
Hope to dream elation.
Wake up more awake.
Take the highway,
To the breathing region.
In need of other means of thieving,
Brains to make my reason even.
Freedom of reason.
Freedom of being.
Freedom believing the reason I’m breathing’s to reach into you and feed on your feelings.
Its simply a catalog. My hands are just trying to explain it to my eyes. This network hasn’t given me too much trouble over the years. So I feel that Ill come round. Just look for the man with the mustache smile. And everything will be even more okay then it already is.
A relation to life.
A chance at mistake.
Only way to live.
A chance to create.
There isn’t much through these weary eyes but exploration.
Strange is what I think.
Strange is why I do.
Strange is running round.
Strange is running through.
The veins that give my brain.
A way to bring the strange to you.
Art in the face of adversity:
Ideas that would have never been in production.
Believing its the grieving season double teams your breathing reason.
We are all lost on a battlefield.
Everyday I feel fortunate to have met you on one of them.
This finally dripped through my pen 5.3.10.
It seems there are stars in cloudy skies that snatch my thoughts with widened eyes.
It seems I’m lost in endless sands I’m led through holding beaded hands.
Some people lead.
Our minds through a dream.
Eyes lost in eyes.
Feeling so free.
If a thousand smiles explode at night.
The evening sun may shine a light.
I feel the weight of a life of waiting.
Eighteen wheeler shoulders.
The wind is just right. Belief eclipse. The evening shifts.
Into a scene that may exist.
It may not and so it seems.
The reason leaves til the darkness lends, the evening to the light again.
Nonsense words. The content: verbs.
Reading deep and reaching sleep.
Breathing for the evening leap.
I’m always happy because I don’t deserve to be upset.
All together loneliness.
Bones that seek a loaner vest.
A vest to block the haters best.
Attempts to make a new regret.