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| I play my teeth like they're black keys, hammer on my gums like they're ivories
Play my lungs like a bellows, fingers on my sides makin melodies
while my heart beats out another harmony
I'm comin down from heaven right foot first
And I
black out the sky.
Satan was an angel laden with the heavy weight of sin
Yeah, maybe it dragged out of heaven down into the fabric of our skin.
Now all the white shirts and ties, blue collar union lines can
brag about the demons within.
Hell is a place where all the sinners go to wait out the end of the world.
...I'd like some reassurance that I'm worth a damn.
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| Every living thing, every flora, every fauna, every moving entity, all things significa, insifnifica, and all things existing by predicating their own existence, the ontological argument of motivation to survive and be in the next moment as you are in this moment, everything is pulsating.
undulating.
Moving without motion, falling without making a sound.
They have a pulse or they simply exist from second to second.
There is a rhythm.
Everything made with matter or with energy is vibrating in its own space, reliant on and independent of everything else.
Our resonant frequency speaks what we cannot. It tells of everything.
everything tells of it.
This is how harmony in the universe is created. The interactions of things vibrating in time to its specific rhythm.
And the purpose of harmony is to vibrate accordingly, to be consonant both within and without itself.
These frequencies feed off one another and create harmonic overtones.
Beautiful vibrations creating vibrations all their own.
Allegory for Soul.
Allegory for Self.
Allegory for children.
Allegory for interconnectedness of our species.
Allegory for collective consciousness.
Allegory for God.
Allegory for Aaron, Not Nero
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| you move so well.
dance dance dance. keep it all spinning so it never stops.
This morning when I awoke, the ground was still a floor below me. The sky still unreachable above me. The air still cold. The light still hurt my eyes. The sheets everywhere I wasn't still made. The dead still dead.
it still hurts and it always will. not even tattoos can help this time.
i keep telling myself it'll get better if I just wait one more ___.
Thus far I've been wrong every time.
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| you were a star taught to eat itself
devoured everything
but left the bible belt
and moved in
where church doors only swing one way
to save the cycle a little time
I took her to the ocean
to make her cry
and wait for
human voices to startle us awake
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| news that disturbs me but shouldn't
I have not been on my guard as of late.
I am too trusting
people trust me too much
this has become a chronicling not of ideas but emotions. That is
not what this was intended to be and I am sad because of it.
fuck. there's another emotion.
what's worse is i'll harbour this but pretend not to.
come home, ye lost at sea. there's nothing out there for you.
only being tossed to and fro.
that's the only thing awaiting you here too, i suppose
but i offer at least a change in scenery.
Or perhaps you like being lost at sea
and the romanticism that comes with it.
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