Dementor Drain

Feed me the heat and flavor of credulous dreams 

I'll swallow their inherent potential 

hovering the highest of heights

there held by measures and musings of the caged lot

the folly of inability mixed with belief

navigating the fluff of the common placating route

"Turn me on, then turn me down" 

free fall grips the totality of the treat

heed and make no matter of time 

feel the rounding of the jagged

entropy of the unbound

antidote to saccharine 

jaw agape for the milk of ages to be guzzled

tell me, do you wish to

wrangle in faith

something of anything

once so insignificant

mouth clenched in realization 

belting and fraying the chords which ache behind walls

protected by the nothing so viciously swayed before the starving

once pried, blood will seep into your fabric

Outlining footprints of the immotile 

Awkward Plea

A realized dream is to be able to convey a past without instigating a fear of those tumultuous places still lingering in the present. Potentially, in a best dream, to have other souls experiencing similar tumult, read and know they are not alone.

Because it was decided to take on a huge challenge and share the experience of these chaoses with one so near our introduction, a great trepidation of having left the sole reader raw by its emery, and fearful of future potential rearings has me curbed, though anxious to bring light to the present.

 

Its a given no one is entirely healed, and at times can slip back into patterns familiar and unhealthy. As of late floating on lofty notions of fascination and allure, the quiet beacon towards the sustainable was almost entirely blared over. Though, in recognition of what is required for one to take initiative into healthier lasting potential, it is hoped in writing this expression, the dip into the chaotic will be afforded some inkling of a saving grace.

Also, the eager lot within me sojourn into the hard facts of reality and come back steady and silent. 

An amnesia of sorts, to get through these days without a heavy heart.

Wide eyed

Imagine life's energies alive and in motion surrounding you. 

The whirl holds your life with all it's rough, all it's sweet, and all it's potential.

There's a center, a home where one resides smack dab in the middle. 

This "eye" affords a potential vantage of all one's life has already taken on and experienced, containing links to the methods taken, lessons learned, as well as the potential of varying future scenarios.

The centered soul has the capacity to affect the whirl's energy output. As in pulling in the dark tumultuous times to speed the whirl into a constricted funnel with one becoming too short sited for fair and appropriate response. Or, at the other end of the spectrum, beckon a bright soft embrace, slowed and soothed by love and care, where breath is afforded for a realization of a best case scenario to be instilled and enacted. 

Thus, the potential for destruction and the power to pollinate.

Gone for good

The Phoenix and the Turtle

found a fatal flaw in the logic of love

It is not one to the next

Yes, a devotion 

Yes, a span entangled within energies and muscle memory 

But also you!

You!

Do not concede to a mediocre experience of joy

Dig into your wants and craving

Grasp at the things which appeal to your mind's eye

I will not impede your process

Truth and beauty be not buried

Fatal is the logic of love

Sing to us of all tedium and folly 

Though save it not for your coming days

Sin fetcha

I read

& now I'm at a loss for words to you 

The ether

My love 

The ever intangibility

The ever romantic notion of a love 

I want to share my edge with you

A romantic notion of care

Of delivery in a letter

with words of which I do lack to you, ether 

Where I wish to be the nothing 

The ever intangible 

So frequently the desire haunts, calls, and nags

then whispers

Ebb & flux & beat into

this thick existence 

this endless stream of not good enoughs 

So why bother

To you

I wish freedom from me

To me 

I wish freedom & logic to be so 

 of it

Cherish

Raw reveal in childlike impulse

Care to show the seasoned withhold

Ah, I see

Mirrored to a vacuous vantage

Truth and timing 

Here in waste and want and take 

Now in give and do and fill

Challenged by such a vapid notion

The odds are always in the house's favor

this person

The gathering of sinew from the grasp of the forceful is relieved

They drop away

Carrying a lighter route 

Suggestions of progression simulate 

thoughts echoing manner and mode

unlike that which I would prefer 

Sought and sewn by means of others

My day-to-day 

work toward or away from

The matter

loss

For a few years now I've woke to no breath

efforts never made

I do not write

It does not matter who actually said...

when fascism comes to America it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross

...it matters they knew this time would come...again.

shatter aka in and out of the haze of you and I [unedited stone skip]

you and I are coated in the sticky sweet filter
that helps us/then get through our days
you know the one
the wake up at 5 to run to be fit for the dream
to head out onto congested highways
to sit crouched in a physically confining space assisting those the system smiles upon
who flow from one town to the next
where their fancy leads
reappropriating homes and livelihoods because that's how it's been since fuck all
never questioning why it's all so simple
while they have to look away from the neck under the knee
while we quelch our spirit, drive, and voice
to make a rich man richer
those who were handed their privilege
the day they drew breath under that ruddied pallid hue
who could never imagine or fathom to comprehend what it would be to want

to be criminalized at sight

to work harder and be better than others but be paid less
to be inherently poor as the system sought it to be
the poor are the foundation this system was built on 

and which also so ardently pays us with its disenfranchisement, violence, and neglect
but we work that job
we spend those dollars
we forget to remember because it's survival technique of compartmentalization has us kneeling to the cross 

hand over heart 

in line for a bite of that burger
I'm here 

buying that latte
but what about the international communities forced to have their land bear our fruit

draining their water supplies

and they never get a taste

they are left in drought and despair
while I buy that bar of chocolate

driving my car

but what about the wars fought to slaughter innocents for the slick black blood graying the sky

and that man
and that woman
are murdered
simply because their beauty 

their blackness is feared
I'm coated
while those women are raped
children are slaves
children in cages
they fear the simplicity
they fear it was all so simple and perfect
the  indigenous ways
over thought to death by pillaging by raping all by force
believe divine right 

by force

but we're the savages while they rape and murder and hang and cage and beat and torment and enslave
but I watch the shows
I buy the beer
I attempt to find the bliss
the coating runs thin under the blaze of realization
the coating lays in a pool at the feet of the conscious 

to be your mirror until you jump out of its murk
what will it take to shatter the archaic coating of the fearful the hateful and the privileged
what will it take for us to see our lives are set up to hate ourselves and want what they have
dont let them win.
shatter

punch in the gut

jarred from the yellowing saccharine shards
privilege never to realize what it would actually take
the irreparable physical damage
the extinguishing of spirit
only to feed the perpetual illusion
for the sake of owning another
to see one's self before one's self
the incredible succession of enslavement

our daily bread

ICE

we are the tyrannous lot
 the dream breakers
 the shackle fasteners
we are the ever entitled
  the spirit corrupters
  the life takers
so illusioned are we
hating the tidal coming for refuge
refuge from the detritus of our power-driven capers
 we cage
 we malnourish
 we torment
 we rape
 we infect
 we let die
and it continues
 on and on
and we watch
  and watch
   and watch

shuttering cold

I had help last night
used as a lure
the flux of energies came
shuttered by
working
filtering
help

my frame
encompassed
no space for rest

layers of all
one by one
all of every
loud as life

a little life

lines in code writ
awaiting the proper snag
I sink back into the know of me
the every which
way to push the peak down
reflecting
ambitionless
awkward fractured self
and then all is changed
back to the same old route
the same bothered way of being
I'm am the not
and this
the knotting
it was the echo of all
slamming back to start