Wednesday, May 11, 2016

i'm coming.

old love, dear that lands inside. you are unfeared. you have finally entered a dream. i do not remember the dream but it is strong for me as all dreams have been recently. they are strengthening. you have become a component. i have the right to say, in my nudity, you do not know why i'm naked
but that it does not matter.

we want the deities to say something on our behalf. we do not know what it is we wish for them to say, not even remotely does an idea land on our tongues. this is indecision. the deities show us several limbs fanning apart from one another and enormous tongues, widened eyes. are these reflections of the indecisions? dear deities i hold your skulls in my hands. my space in which i situate is filled with skulls i've yet to touch and perhaps might never will- i might project my frustrations and depression on the skulls and burn them. is it then when you shall speak?
i don't know what to say for you. this gratifying concept, this humbling, of having deities at my disposal, pictures of some representations of what the other human animals want me to believe you appear as- i mistrust it. i do not have deities (supports). there are ideas i love whose arrivals i await. they are winds and streams guiding themselves through the air, ignorant of gravity.
it is my ten arms of indecision reflected.
it is widened eyes that see.
it is elongated tongue that throws forth intimidation.
it is a snake weaving throughout the skulls, biting and constricting.
it is the vermin loose in the dream i live without sleeping the snake sneaks toward.
it is my appetite singing that brought me here.
and here is a room i am in.

i don't know why decision is seen as fitting when impalpable (something of bored human animals).

the gods want to eat us with protection and torment us not with images of intimidation, rather challenging us with a consumption of material one acknowledges as distracting and overwhelming in one's relation to things that are disconnected from reality.
now we are more things as things be how we are driven into seeing.

i am this.
i am this.
i am this.
i am this.
i am this.

apathy converges toward my sternum i deny a pulling away of from my chest as i hold no qualms admitting god bored me and i couldn't wait to get out of church
and still, i hold a great deal of that within me; an unwillingness to let go, even unwittingly.

hold sacred to my chest the skin the covers it and the spectral film
emanating away in a growth of extremities reaching past the sun, ignoring
the moon
in its phases unfolding past my tongue

longer than the snake binding the aging sun, quickening
its mortality. the sky is blue. the sky is blue. the sky is blue. the sky is blue. balancing
on one voluptuous leg i learn nothing as nothing is nothing and calling is the night

in which i find a fresh mouth to piss.

noises surrounding my ability to hear dictate each movement of my cloud-speaking body.