VIII.

These days are drawn out,
Strung between nights of sleepless contemplation
& hours upon hours of continuous labor,
& I snatch & steal moments of peace every chance I get
& it is never enough

Given the ability to redirect my life I would leap from this nest
& assault life head on,
Dive naked into the vast experiance that awaits

There are doors to be opened,
Walls to tear down,
If only there were more that I could sense
Could feel, could know intimately

My tenderness is crushed by the desire to feel
Balanced against the need to understand,
& I am drained, weary & slow in the half-light of neon
& I both long for
& fear
The compassion of strangers

Routine continues,
Leaving a residual buildup that precipitates change,
It becomes habit, ingrained
& unbroken until the pressure exceeds the holding capacity...

It can only remain locked down for so long
Before the first sign of fragmentation occurs
& the world returns to a more primal state
I desire this release into chaos,
Wish & long for an encounter w/ the surreal,
Yet these monotonous days signify despair, loss, & shadows...

I want to see the true nature of things,
To be able to rip the mask
From the surface of nature.

Reality is a cold comfort for the faint of heart.



IX.

There is no truth,
No all encompassing great design,
No underlying absolute

There is only the known & the unknown,
Only that which is sensed & that which is forgotten,
& when time comes knocking
& the infinity of perception is eclipsed by the final moment
I will be left w/ only my fading sense of self
& the memories of what I dared to do

When I die I want to be proud of myself,
To know I was honorable, noble, & good,
& if it is all for naught,
If there is no point,
No great reward,
Then it is merely all the more noble

That it means nothing,
That there is no purpose,
Makes my struggle to be pure all the greater,
For I will have no regrets,
No things left undone or unsaid,
But instead I will have the satisfaction
Of being whole
In an incomplete world,
The true sum of my being
Having become the traces
Of my passions
In passings.



X.

& when I stare @ you for hours & remain silent
It is not that I am devoid of thoughts,
Or somehow despairing,
I am simply in awe of your passion,
Taken by surprise & lost in thought,
For I see all things as I believe they trully are,
An interconnected multi-level reality
W/ on-going struggles & all out wars

We are not & never have been the most peacefull of creatures,
Our sole reoccuring past time being
The conquest & enslavement of fellow human beings,
& what makes us think that the spirits
& the gods would be any different?

Yet I get to be the crazy one,
Pondering the things we worship
& what it means to be pure
& where we'll all end up
If this world were to burn
& why it all matters...

I'm the burden of proof 'cause no one else cares
& there is no excuse for failure
& you wonder why I'm silent
When the conversation turns to cars or football,
Why my eyes wander when fashion & style comes to call,
Why porno & pleasure disinterests me...

I am too puritan for my taste



XI.

I still count each finger everyday
& make a list of what I've missed
& I find it pasted to the bathroom mirror
When I awake from some dream I can't remember
& the veils hold secrets from my face
Where all the demons are out of place
& are free to chase the stars back down behind the sun
& knowing what it meant is harder than forgetting what I care about
There where image & vision seem unrelated
& the masks are fashions poured into mold
& fictions worked into plastics
& I lead truth in circles back out the way
I think I came...

I thought history was no ones story
& words were not as important as what I created
& the world began to lead me in
& aeons pass every moment
& the true earth is still in doubt
& the true veils have passed me by
& the true words remain unspoken...

Is this what I've made of my time?
This waste, this loss,
This treason of my reason
All bound up w/ indecision,
It is my weak spot.



XII.

When I create from my heart it reminds me of where I've been
Where I've directed my movements,
& the passionate flow of regret
W/ which I challenge my soul

I will come @ myself from deep w/in my dreams,
Armed w/ the music of the spheres,
The token gratuity,
The questioning of self
& the fulfilling of destiny.

Machines are the life of a tyranny,
The fuel of control,
& the enslavers of my race...

They demand our obsession,
Our overeager anticipation,
Our sacrificial & exotic offerings,
& they leave us suspended in their midst

I am the naysayer of progress,
The defiant finger,
The cheerleader of anarchy,
The perfect stranger alone in the crowd
Armed w/ an ideal
& viral w/ memetic constuctions

My reality seems to have always turned on ideals,
On shifting polarities of thought processes,
& when directed by force of will
All things are concievably possible,
For the seed knows not the outcome,
It is merely a seed...

Masks are but the face on the mask,
Their nature is to please the wearer
W/ the pleasure of wearing a new nature.



XIII.

I know myself so that I may learn to despise what I could become,
For the greatest influence in the learning of potential is the path of disgressions,
Of sidetracking & doubling back...

This is how I have learned to control that which I despise around me,
By controlling that which I despise w/in myself,
& from this shell that once was tragic
I am reborn through magick
Awake & determined to move onward.

Realization of what could become hits me rapid fire in the hours just before dawn,
& there silence holds sway regardless of the consequences to those who observe me,
For reality, twisted, accomodates when I am enclosed & free from distraction
& can examine myself from the enviroment of my choice.

I find there is a procession ongoing w/in me,
& it unweaves itself from all things as time moves forward,
& time will stand in judgement of this greatest of engines
& @ that moment of recognition,
When time uncovers the hidden images & devours the waiting energy
To direct its purpose & give it essence in the form of unshaken belief,
Then I will allow time to focus fire,
To flood the earth,
& permeate the air.



XIV.

What others despise in their world I have seen buried in their soul,
& in this knowledge lies one of the keys to wisdom
It is @ the time when all is @ its darkest
That the promise is @ its greatest,
When hope becomes a godling
& wishes become prayers,
When my mask is @ its tightest
& the edges become blurred...

I know full well the price of folly is to be enslaved,
This truth is central to the foundation of the principles of power,
The rules of engagement, & is a consequence of knowing yourself intimately

I have held that which could not be touched & changed the immutable,
I've opened doorways of bloodlust & rapture,
I've wandered into fictions hiding behind truth,
Unveiled the watchtowers & sealed the circles,
& if I were to pull mu heart from my chest
& give it to you would you eat it
& know who I am?



XV.

You cannot begin w/out the understanding of passion
The comprehension of existence,
or the true experiance of freedom,
For w/out these to drive you onward
You will be discouraged

It is a bitter path I find myself traveling,
& I despair, ever finding myself twisted up w/in
Over my emotional incompetence & I collapse,
Ever finding myself content to ignore
& too cynical to convince otherwise,
& I know full well the vague impressions are usually flawless
& the fading memories are painful & unwanted,
& that it can hurt more to care than to cut
& the world that you live in is the one you construct
& that this present stranger is one strange fuck.

I've been beaten down before it was a game
& I've deceived my share of half-wits until I felt ashamed
& I've hardly been the best of men in the best of times
& all the dreams I've tried to build have come from bad designs,
But I'm certain that somehow all of that's all about to change,
I'll be present in the future, but I won't be quite as strange.
 



(I know that was rather long)