Wednesday, June 1, 2016

former guy come here.

this is not my story as one
might expect.
it is his; he, whose sight goes further than
mountains. it is time to share
that which was shared with me.

blood is what we have in common.
blood is mine to keep my life with.
then, of a sudden, blood is pointed
to my temple.
it is pathological, this way, that.
this way, that, we

had blood at the same time.
then it was neither his nor mine.
it was time

to face the pathological,
the story of the ugly mountains lying i still
love on fire we share; kill
all people just feeling other things
from outside of their own minds.

just touch what they see and put a name on it;
give value.
give confusion value.

flirt with
the confused people. make them feel acknowledged.
tell them they are indeed jesus
("gee, i'm very sorry to hear that.")
tell them their paranoia is being tracked
(been there done that.)

lick their wounds.

get a general picture.
general pictures change from environment
to environment as stimulation is

is the key component to

re-write general picture.
give new value.
give confusion new name.

you are so small suffering
unrecognized flames, i turn
my mutilated head away

from at least this incubator- turning
away from a cause
is difficult surrendering; exhaustion
from believing.

it takes so much to turn things into reality; to see
false gold in raw earth-
and to say i was warned but insulted
by warnings from the ignorant.

you are so small i see you vanish.

there is no more telepathy.