The Minds Eye

Desires of the night
Bloom in solidarity
Our solar-paneled minds
No longer absorbing
Inconsistencies, but running
On the fumes of
Out effervescent entities

it makes me want to cry
in diluted tears of home-grown spices
metal wings to fractures blue
screaming high above the rapturous agony of toiled soil and familiar smiles;
eyes of the misconceived that breath the lies you force feed yourself everyday through a routine screen
and yet you understand the meaning of normalcy
a falsified legacy of doubt to seed inconvenience
collective solicitude brooding thick swollen droplets to fight against instinct
each and every one if us on the brink of veiled reality
yet a blind stumble away from omniscient entirety

you were the ocean
I was the sky
 

and when my tears
fell down upon you
they sunk
into the depths of
your soul

simmering until my 
sorrow became a part 
of everything and 
nothing 
washed away in an 
infinity of blue 
 

where clouds 
saunter below the
waves and
disappear 

A grand mistake, a fluke, a fake,
Our importance which we strive to make. 
‘It’s in your hands’ we call above,
To some higher power most fein to love.
Yet masks are minds that meld our fate,
There is no God, just our lives to take. 
Together we hold the power of all,
You were not a lapse designed to fall.

Drapetomania (poem)

They tell you this is home.
A petri dish consumed in all you’ve known.
With rounded opaque walls to be a screen from which you see the rest of the world:
It’s fallacy wound tightly in the seams of thaumaturgy, the swirling entropy dispersed through captivating clouds.
And yet it becomes a catalyst to the unimaginable existences you descry through shaded quixotic conviction.
Woeful within the artificial domain from which you stand, and bares no escape.
So you quail beneath the strain of realities undoings, falling on buckling knees into the corrosive sanctuary Where you simmer in cascading fumes of accustomed cerebral tribulation.
Purge, deplore, endure.
Glimmers of haptic possibilities will heed numbed incentives as dusk cycles,
Everlasting despite the ignorance of your invested reverie. 

To long for something you have never truly bared witness is a cruel fate indeed.
Watching through innocent eyes that scour, or allowing words to flow like a fountain through your mind.

Such beauty! Such wonder! A great maze of emotions, a floating rapturous flutter!
Oh, the desire for this it consumes you inexplicably,  
Nagging through ghosted touches that blend into a burning melancholy nostalgia.
How can one crave what they have never had?
It is irrelevant, preposterous, but thus is humanity.
Souls skirting to reach for the next installment, to gorge and dream for what is not there.

And so we suffer in this unquenchable silence,
Floating towards nothing; locked in a coherent lair.  

She could never quite settle on any one decision. Her thoughts floated around like one blows bubbles; some evaporating as instantly as they are conceived, and others lingering around just long enough to believe they may become permanent before finally reaching the horizon only to silently pop and disappear. This made the future all the more ominous for her. Not knowing what she wanted from one minute to next defeated the purpose of structure… of society no less! There were untold rules one had to follow to remain being a part of such a superior collective entity, the majority of which allowing each individual to advance through stages. Stages which she resisted with a transcending concrete fear. She did not want to follow blindly like those around her, but knew of no other way to survive in the world we had created. The footholds of personal expression she yearned for still existed, yet had been placed out of reach; an escape route cleverly disguised and dismissed as fleetingly dangerous. Because who would attempt to grab hold of them when there was the possibility that they would fall?

Crescendo.

Adagio; bowed strings displaced in pressured sweet strums,
Composing listless fingerprints trill,
Quaking geography undone.
Canon, atonal; a gauntlet of luxurious rapture,
Where divided seas sail,
A harmony captured.   

(To be born.)

Inevitable. 

No ephemeral asylum from fervid logic can repulse such membranes.
Hereafter mistaken for misandrist moments corrupted by punctured veils
Of inept amplifying essence.

Nuances— same sentry separation.
Biology torn for the shame of rightful expression.

Neglected revenants turned unanswered questions;
Annihilated armistice.
A silent collection.

Empowered ridicule.
Admiration.