Lab Rat

I am prancing across a rolling plain, frolicking gaily and tumbling down its hills and valleys as my breath is filched forth from me. It is calling--what is it--a sound? The lights are burning brightly, shining, piercing the twilit darkness of the midnight, and before I know it I am dehydrated into atoms. Millions of particles of me are flying all about, feeling everything all the time: Suspended in nothing, I rise above the Earth and into this massive illumination.
As I am reassembled to my former self, I begin to feel light-headed… Have I been drugged? I am in a room full of little men in dark cloaks, veiling their faces. One of them comes to lead me to the window. He does not speak, only listening comprehensively to my subconscious glossolalia.
In a split second I see suns, moons, stars; all delicately entwined about each other in an eternal dependency to sustain inertia… And all that I can think is, Is this real? I feel infinite in this moment, and I forget the world that I once thought I knew.
Then, the strange man who led me here interrupts this enigmatic hypnosis, grabbing me by the hand and leading me astray from the intoxicating beauty of which I am enmeshed. Still, I see the imprint of the stars on the blank sheet of my mind. As he lays his open palms before me, I see other people… In his hands? Suddenly I am swallowed by this orb of deceit and guile; drowning in a pool of betrayal, I begin to feel sober again.
I snap back to reality. I look around me--what is it--more people? Not a face that I recognize is seen by my eyes. And there are more… Are they people? They look strange to me, yet, somehow human-like; evolved and twisted, discolored and misshapen. There are other creatures here, too, so oddly proportioned and off-scale. What is happening? I feel my consciousness slipping; the cheese is long gone from my cracker.
I wake up, drenched in sweat--what is it--a dream? The lights flash on and I become numb, a chill tingles down my spine with an anxious agony never before imagined. As I scan the room around me, I find that I am in an agoraphobic prison of what appear to be hospital beds. There are others here, hooked up to machines with strange-looking instruments protruding from their heads… What is this place?
I attempt to raise myself up--what is it--restraints? I am held down by an undetectable force; confusion once again beckons over me, and I begin to whimper a shocking pitch of purely awesome fear. An alarm begins to ring in my head, and the strange little men come. With a whirl of their fingers I am hushed, controlled, annihilated--what is it--a spell?
Obey. I hear it in my mind…
Obey. I feel it in my soul…
OBEY. I say it aloud… “Obey.” Once again, I am swept into a faint blur.
I awaken--what is it--am I alive? Perhaps, but I am not really living. I attempt to identify where I am again, but nothing makes sense. The room is too bright, and none of these shapes are discernable.
Earthling. Why is it awake? It goes to sleep, now. It does not feel pain if it is not awake. It does not know if it is not awake. It goes to sleep. IT GOES TO SLEEP, NOW, EARTHLING. IT DOES NOT RESIST THE MASTER. It does not resist the master, Earthling. It goes to sleep…
“I… I cannot…” I attempt to speak, but no more words come.
Obey.
“No… No, please… No…” I begin to weep, and the toxic tears burn the perfectly pervious membrane of my waning sanity, and then I hear--what is it--a power drill?
Obey.
As my eyes finally adjust to the blinding illumination of the room, I see that I am again belittled by that unimaginable force, gawking my puny exertions to break free of this putrid entrapment.
OBEY.
I unleash a bellowing screech as the inescapable pressure of the drill breaks through the skin, the skull, the brain. My brain. The hot, sticky wetness of my own matter spills out over the crest of my head, down my neck, dripping onto the floor. Drip, drip, drip.
The sound of the drill ceases, and the affliction begins to weaken. The waves crash into my ears like daggers, and an exalting rush of nothingness fills me up; death reaches out with his dark, slender fingers, his nails pricking at the fringes of my essence…
But, no. Death could not take me; he could not free me from this dreadfully sickening slavery, for I was revived as I neared the end that I had so welcomed.
…I hear scraping--what is it--what is it? It is so hard to think. I now know nothing but the pain I endure.
I want to go home. I just want to go home… These thoughts repeatedly flicker through my mind as consciousness sways in and out.
It cannot leave. It cannot get out. It will never get out. It is mine. MINE. It was given to me by the master. It does not have a home. It is mine. My Earthling. Mine…
My thoughts feel naked and exposed, helplessly molested by this cruelly corrupt invasion. A deep cloud fogs my notions and my mind goes blank.
Yes, Earthling. It sleeps. It sleeps…
Slowly, I begin to awaken, yet again, Where am I? I must get out…
I look around--I am back in the bed, along with the others. Slaves. Then I remember: They did something to my brain… But what? I no longer seem to care. Death is all that I care about. The sweet escape. The enticing loss of feeling sweeping over me with pure, exasperating relief.
I bite my tongue. The rushing rapids of crimson flow out and my head begins to sink. The invasive machines probing my body begin to sound the alarm, and I begin to feel free. The sweet relief is a must. The lights turn off, the sounds drown out, the irony taste of my own blood leaves me… Forever.
And here and now, I sail out into a dream--what is it--an ocean? On a boat I am, with nothing about me but the blazing Sun, wrapping me in its happy warmth, and the cool sea green... My favorite color; my favorite place.
I look down to see that my legs have grown together, and my feet into fins, glistening with a slippery slime clinging to newborn scales. I dive down into the depths of the waters; my heart, my home, my dream. I plunge deeper and deeper, propelling myself into a delicious sense of knowing. The further I go, the darker it gets…
I continue to venture downward, spiraling into the labyrinth of my soul, and I begin to see stars--what is it--space? This perception is unnatural, almost uncomfortable, unfamiliar. Am I really seeing this? Is this sight? To call it so would be shallow and ignorant; I am far too deep, now… But what else could it be?
Everything, nothing. Forever, never. Past, present, future… Zero, infinity. Negative, positive, neutral. Me, you, us, them… All one.
I realize that I am no longer breathing, for I no longer remember how. I no longer see, or hear, or taste, or smell, or feel… I only know.

Desire

Here I am, wanting what I don't have... Why do we want things in the first place? We desire to possess, use, adore, and even control things as if they will somehow benefit us. We are very needy beings, we humans. Why must we feel this constant yearning for completion--for empowerment? Must we always strive to be better? Is it such a bad thing to be last? Is it such a good thing to be first? It seems that the majority of these avidities are not for our true personal ambitions. We see the good that will come from what we procure not from our own eyes, but from the eyes that judge us; whether they be those of our peers, our parents, our gods, society as a whole; anyone and ultimately everyone! All for the sake of reputation? Of status? Of approval? Wouldst one unconditionally sacrifice individuality for acceptance among others? And it all comes to this... The end.

O2

Alive, or just breathing? I inhale a deep, wonderful gasp of air, and as my lungs deplete the oxygen from it, my body is nourished. Tiny blood vessels in my lungs pump these oxygen molecules into the chambers of my heart, thus delivering it to various parts of my body. Throughout my entity, this oxygen is used to create energy for whatever function is programmed: My brain writes the software for these programs. With this I now have the capacity of thought, with which I may solve problems, communicate, create, learn, etc. And so, I owe this all to oxygen? My sustenance? The giver of life? Or just breath...

Sense

Perfection is flexible. Ignorance is permanent. Exasperation prevails into silence, unacknowledged. Corrections are never thoroughly fulfilled, but overlooked by most, forgotten by many, and poorly upkept by few. Fear is tangible, passion is elusive, and virtue is limited. Power beckons corruption while the truth creates a lie, and acceptance rises from the ashes of a dormant flare, silently slumbering through time as the cataclysm comes to pass. The disastrous oncoming yields no anticipation as it tiptoes through the reeds, slowly but surely sufficing the end that draws nearer and nigh.

Our Father, Who Art in Heaven...

Where would we be without God? Or, perhaps, where would God be without us? Without us, God would be nothing--He would have no one to worship Him, or follow Him, and He would utterly die. God needs us to sustain and convey His word, for it is we who have kept Him alive through time. He is extant only through our doing, and, therefore, He depends on us. We as humans have made Him who He is today, who He was in the beginning, and whoever He may become hereafter.
In consummation, we are each our own God, for we all perceive Him in perfectly different ways. You create the image of God in your mind, and there He becomes a part of you. You are God: We are ALL God! We think and believe and act and feel in a way that somehow reflects our faith in Him, and we use that as a guideline to suffice the contentions that are otherwise left unanswered.
He is our escape from the truth; He shields us from the very light that He ostensibly emanates. He is who He has been for centuries past and centuries to come: Our Father, the One who attempts to hold us back from our natural passions for "our own good;" the One who tells us, "No," because He doesn't agree. As children mature and begin to understand that not everything their parents say and do are right, we have the opportunity of life to break free of this condemning God we have created, and to search within ourselves to discover what we truly love the most.
Remember, you are God. It is you who bears the power to adjudge what is right and what is wrong for yourself; you have the capacity to learn and form your own opinions, make use of your bounty! As you now have it, it may surely someday leave your possession... So, which will you choose: Freedom, or fascism? Will you follow those who have endlessly bowed down to others, or will you create your own path through the vicious ambiguity of the shadows, ultimately satisfying God more than any dutiful idolization ever has, or ever will? The discretion is in your hands, the time is now, and the truth shall certainly set you free.

E.X.I.S.T.

E.verlasting,
X.
I.s
S.omething
T.rivial



With a trembling silence tiptoeing in my bones; the bending light criss-crossing, zig-zagging about my physique and all that entails it; the perforations of my integument perspiring a soulful sweat, dripping into a pool of memory; I breathe an endless cycle of exchanging glances--gawking stares, everlasting. X, representing an endless entity of commodities so unimaginable, is something totally trivial; so perpetually indifferent to us that, in sense, we perceive it as real.

Gaze

How do you know anything when you don't even know yourself? Reflections of reality invade my retina and therein spawns an understanding of familiar perceptions. A transmitting postal service scouts along the fringes of my notions, preventing my escape. With only longing gazes through this transparently blood-stained pane, I imagine what it might feel like to be free.

Indefinite

Future becomes present; present becomes past... But what happens to the past? Through repetition, it becomes the future.

Incongruous

Leap, womp, Terry-Allen tree,

Loop-lop, flip-flop, tweedlee-dee!

Why can't I have some cherry pie?

Pull me a slice and a glass of rye!

Please please please don't kick me down

If I fall I'll look a-clown!

Tap-tap-tap, my heels are clickin'

Listen to the clock tick-tick-tickin'!

Crinch cranch crunch I'm eating a treat

It's not cheese and it's not meat

It's green I say, oh what could it be?

I feel real good, I feel like me.

I wish I had this treat every day!

I'd do anything, I would pay!

"So why don't you do it?" I asked dog

"So I will." and that was crog.

Suede Lips

gravity--the most compelling force

round-about my head swirls a horse

orange-red colored suede

trickles down my neck, unpaid

with guns in his pockets

and silver-gold lockets

he takes me out over the sea

and makes me a nice glass of tea

but it was drugged

kisses led from hugged

shoulders, tied down to the rails

with sugar ants marching the trails

my mesas and rivers all winding

sooner or later finding

that i will not exist

in the future, i persist

i'll be gone

under a lawn

ashes to ashes. dust to dust.

i must go, yes, i must

but not right now, i do have time

to take a time and call it mine

my time is now, it's now or never

it's forever

Amaranthine

My skin is tight and clenching, sending shivers across the plains of my body. Mother Earth massages my scalp as I pluck the strings of the Universe and sing harmoniously along with its celestial melody. The pain is released from my soul, and the empty spaces are filled with love and power, like wine taking its form in an amphora.

Upended in Disarray

Grass up above, the night below

The swirl of a swift, crashing undertow

The choke of a sweet, sick, salty death

Comes rushing out upon my breath

I begin to topple, my vision blurs

I fall off my head and land on hers

Said I was sorry and stood up straight

But all I did was a figure eight

Time

One may never know how long time will take.

Phenomena

The Earth isn't perfect so that we can live, we are living because the Earth is perfect.

Plans

The situation was, indeed, perfect. Not because anything went as planned, because nothing was planned. It was perfect because--because it went; we were, time was flowing, we felt feelings, we saw sights, we heard sounds, we tasted flavors... We were and that was that; it was, and it was perfect.

Antiquity

Tired eyes... And a face, with history, bright and shining, shouting aloud what's accumulated therein.

Mnemosyne

If memory is food piled upon a plate, knocking things from the sides down to the floor, can I not bend over and pick it up? Can I not clean up after myself in my own damned mind?

What?

What am I? Am I? What?

Space Trip

Orion's belt shines down on me tonight;

I can feel its embrace holding me tight.

It's a feeling of life, but also of death;

It's a gust of wind stealing my breath.

It's hot and cold, I can't discern the sort.

Whilst feelings of guilt and remorse retort.

The light rushes in and my mind rushes out

As I sit and watch the gnats fly about.

Though, after I leave this wonderful place,

To my body I must return, post haste.

And as I reminisce the times I've had,

The images form a scene of plaid

Dancing on screens inside my head;

Attempting to keep my hunger fed.

So now I'm floating gently away

To a place I can always come and stay.

Cornered by Intricacy

Why do I feel this way? Uncontrollable sobs burst out like a cry for help. Perhaps I know too much... Or as it may be, I just think I do. Today is not a good day. I can hardly enjoy anything because of this sickening sentiment that my tears attempt to release. What is most confusing--frustrating, rather--is why? It's something that I do not understand, and therefore I fear it. I've tried to put the puzzle together, but I'm missing so many pieces. Maybe I just need to go in a different direction, but I feel that I'm already following the right path... How can this be? These apprehensions locked within me are so intoxicating and smothering... Heavy gasps escape, yet everything remains inside.

With

I learn with my ears.

I admire with my eyes.

I express with my hands.

I opinionate with my voice.

I accept with my lungs.

I think with my brain.

I dream with my mind.

I feel with my soul.

Never

I don't want to do this. But I strut my lead-heavy feet into this disgust-filled room and over to the box. This little, silk-lined box, polished and clean--for now. Her face is old, not how I used to know it. Her eyes are closed...
She's asleep, I tell myself, But how does she look so old?
And as I stand there in front of everyone, feeling their pity and remorse stabbing into my back, I look down at her again and hear a whispering shout.
My baby, my baby, don't you cry.
In shocking awe, I reach down and touch her hand--cold. Death once again fills my head like an aching disease, and I feel that stabbing pain choke me as it dwells in my throat. The soundless tears begin to fall, and once again I hear her faint voice.
Shh, don't you cry. I'm okay, baby girl, I'm okay.
No you're not, I silently scream back to her, You're not okay, Momma, you're dead, you're gone.
But I'm here with you, she says back, I'm always with you.
But I miss you, I miss you so much.
Now, my sobs become rivers, and their roaring current brings me to my knees. And as I sit there on my feet, with my face buried helplessly into my hands, she attempts to calm me once more.
Baby girl, please hush those tears, I hate seeing you cry. I miss you so very much, too. But you can't cry forever. You have to live.
But it hurts so much, I whisper to her, almost audibly now, It hurts so much I don't think I can.
You can do anything, she tells me, You can do anything, and you know it.
Do I? I ask her. Do I know it?
Yes, you do, she assures me. You do, but you must dig deep.
Then, I feel her refulgent, ethereal hands on my shoulders, and my lamenting sobs surcease. I turn to see the hands of my sisters. I stand to embrace their warm understanding, and my mother renders one last thought into my mind.
I love you, and don't you ever forget that.
Never.

And I never heard her voice again.

Paper

This paper gently flaps in the breeze, tickled within the profound edges of this former tree. It passes through the leaves of these sustained trees all around me, and leaves with them a soothing caress. The blades of this green, green grass stand short and crisp, shaking away their brown winter caps and sprouting forth with delight.

How Long?

How long will I be able to enjoy? To be happy? To laugh? To cry? To think, and breathe, and live? To wonder and build? To imagine, and feel, and express myself? When will it end? ...Will it end? Or will it go on and on? Or is there some point in time that ends it all? Will it end when everything ends? ...Or will the end simply be a new beginning?

Acquittal

Goodbye: Our matter touches and separates for the last time, and I can feel it. I know that I'll never again feel the caress of your fingers upon my flesh, or hear the sound of your tangibly sweet voice clinging to the edge of my ear. You say that you'll see me again, but I know that you are already gone. I try to tell you not to go, but I am helplessly locked inside as I watch you walk away, abstracted from what will come. I'm not surprised when I hear the news, only filled with anguish. Realizing that I really could have prevented this horrific adversity, I know that my abhorrence and compunction will haunt me forever. Please forgive me...

Hi, I'm a Speck.

What is there? Is there anything here? Everything is everywhere, yet nothing is nowhere. Time is space and space is time, they are both infinite, and they are eternal slaves to each other. The Earth is somehow caught up in this mess, and as I spring forth from it with life, I realize that I mean nothing. I am insignificant to the universe, and so are you, reader. We are merely a place in time and space. And yet, while I mean nothing to everything, everything means so much to me. I cherish every moment that I have experienced, and that is the beauty of it all. Once we cease to care about what the rest of the world thinks of us, we can discover true happiness. Everything that we already have is all that we need.

Chiaroscuro

The highlights of the Sun trickle down upon everything, and waves crash into my ears like daggers. Wispy clouds speckled here and there across the echoing ocean of the atmosphere slowly dissipate into something I can't see, but I know it's there.

Sisters

Sisters; we are sisters: We are the same, and I can feel the part of you that's in me. It's this strong, deep feeling that sweeps over me in a wave of purity and innocence, and its heavy aura fills my heart with a longing only to see that you are content. I only wish that you may endure the happiest of lives, and that I can share it with you. I love you so much, Callee Jo, you are my best friend. You are the only one in this entire universe who will come even remotely close to understanding me and who I am, for our neverending friendship is an infinite entity of raw honesty and truth. We are connected; we are whole, and without you I would be nothing. You have guided me through life like a mother, and for that I am forever grateful. You taught me how to laugh, how to cry, how to be angry, how to have a broken heart; you taught me how to live. I could never think of a way to repay you; I'm not sure it is possible. I am eternally indebted to you, yet all I can do is ask that you spend what time we have left in this world beside me as my sister.

Wind

Leaves--some dry and crumbled, some still green and hanging on. My flesh, trembling with the cursory chill of the northern front: I hear it high in the trees, and then it tumbles down on top of me, and I can feel it; I can see it in the bows of these giants, I can smell the fresh, clean essence of the air hovering thinly about me... And I can taste the light nothingness whip across my tongue as a bellowing sigh escapes from my confines of my body and is swept away with it.

Nothing

Nothing to say, nothing to think.
Nothing to eat and nothing to drink.
Nothing to see, nothing to hear.
Nothing to love and nothing to fear.
No reason to live, no reason to die.
Nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
Nothing to be, nothing to know.
Nowhere to stay and nowhere to go.
Nothing to smell, nothing to taste.
Nothing to save and nothing to waste.
Nothing to choose, nothing to feel.
Nothing is fake and nothing is real.

Alone

This day that has passed was not a day at all. Meaningless tears fall from my eyes, confusing and senseless. Self-destruction and insane solitude spawn within, and as I wonder aimlessly in my boat of thoughts, I realize that I'm floating in a sea of people. Their arms reach out for me, but I back away in fear, oblivious to their sincerity. I sit alone and dwell within my own self-pity and remorse, and my soul slowly slips away into pitch.

Ego

Distant eyes gaze upon me, and I cast my night's web into the darkness. The plants are all glued to the ceiling, and crushed lightbulbs lie at my feet. Their jagged edges ebb away at my callused toes, and the hands of time turn slowly so that I can palpably feel each tear of the flesh. Copious bundles of jams and jellies wait yonder 'cross the room, and they call my name with a sweet, sticky breath. As I lie down and slowly slip into a dream, my passions begin to break through: The ego has finally dissipated, its presence never to mock my ambitions again. I am now free to believe and imagine anything that I wish, for nothing is holding me back: Nothing and everything have at long last fastened together to create time itself, neverending. I am given life, yet I cannot feel content or grateful? Irony taints this realm within as its foul, reprehensible atmosphere consumes my life and the world around me.

Clouds

Milky little nebulae frolic throughout this clear, angelic void of space to form delicately dancing shapes within my tiny hands. As I mold them into the contours of my mind and gently set them free, I can only hope that this fantasy can be seen by all the world. Yet, sometimes we fail to notice these humble beauties roaming nomadically across the sky; we forget to look up and embrace the ever-shifting elegance of the clouds.

Gravity

Looking up to the midnight sky, I can see the stars and the planets, the moon and the light it shines down on me... It seems that so much is within my grasp and just right before my eyes, but it is all so incredibly far away. I want to learn so much; I want to see and feel and hear everything that's beyond this cage that I am literally forced to dwell within... The only thing holding me back is gravity.

Chance

This is a chance to learn all that we can;
A chance to become something.
This is a chance to wonder, imagine, and create;
A chance to attain and absorb everything.
This is a chance to travel to the places that we've never been;
A chance to go out and meet the people who will change us forever.
This is a chance to live;
A chance to take chances, and then die.

Perception

What if you were mute? You would not be able to shout, or even whisper. And if you were blind, your sight would you find absent. If you were deaf? What if music could never bring you joy again? What if you could never lay eyes upon your beautiful children? Or hear their laughter? Or tell them "I love you!" What if you could not feel the intimate touch of your love? If you could not even smell the sweet scent they leave behind in the sheets, and in their clothes... Or the empty taste they leave lingering on your lips after a warm, embracing kiss, only compelling you to lust for more?

Death

Death; it's sickness and plague spreading like rot upon the bow of an ancient tree, waiting, anticipating that final moment when it finally breaks beneath the pressures of life.

Open Your Eyes

How intriguing it is that we so often forget the trivial bliss of life that
thus immaculately entwines us with all the universe: We over look most of the world
that is laid but right before our feet.

76276434

Cease to awaken, dear one; sleep softly upon the clouds of your dreams. The orange rays of the brilliant sun shine brightly across the clear blue sky, and you behold it all within your mind. Your heart creates this black hole in your thoughts, disrupting the processes of your ego, but this interruption is quite on the contrary to what you may expect. Without this beautiful, compelling hiatus of thought, you would feel nothing; nothing, not because it would be nothing, but because truly nothing would be there at all. We are each an intricate puzzle, and with pieces missing, how can we truly understand ourselves? Even without a single piece, we cannot be completely sure of what we are...We are left only to guess what may lie ahead of us. Our ego strives to remain constant, to keep the passions buried within our subconscience, never to realize our true purpose in this labyrinthine enigma known as life. But can this really be possible? In an existence so possibly beautiful, can there really be so many flaws? Ah, but it is not the world itself that is so damaged, but rather the establishment that we as humans have ravished upon it. We will only continue to worsen everything; blind and ignorant. We are doomed to demise within our own entrapment as we anticipate the dissolution of our very essence.

Listen

Grip the handlebars and take a ride!
Don't worry, my love, I'm on your side.
I have much to show you on this night,
So take my hand and hold it tight.
Never forget the things you will see,
For they will endow gifts unto thee.
I have chosen you to witness such things
Because your mind is the choir that sings
The hymn of truth, O', what truth.
Beyond the ordinary, into the uncouth,
Where only few have the courage to percieve
And also a mind strong enough to believe.
You're a very special person, I must admit:
Not many can form such bliss from the shit.
I'm telling you, young one, please don't float astray,
The void will swallow you if you don't know the way.
Follow me lightly, leaving only a faint path,
So those who are searching can discover the math.
You must attain the knowledge to resolve this equation,
Or you'll never understand this unworldly relation.
Certainly you'll pick it up along your way,
But you cannot search for it: Many games does it play.
It will only enter when your thoughts are far from it;
You must scale the infinitely heightening summit.
But the fourth dimension patiently awaits you,
So take some time to explore things anew.
O', my darling, how confused you must be!
I did not mean to frighten you, please, do not flee!
Someday you will surely begin to understand,
For your future holds so many great things planned.
You must never take confusion and exchange it for fear;
Things don't always make sense, but it's really quite clear.
To control the fear you must search deep inside,
Though you wish sometimes not to seek, but to hide.
Still, you are in charge of obtaining the clues
and applying what you know to ignite the fuse;
A spark, a light that breaks the dawn.
Your fears will all too soon be gone,
And at this moment you will finally understand
Why I needed you to take hold of my hand.

Waiting Room

I'm waiting for something.I don't know what it is or when it will come, but when it does I will know why I've been waiting for it, and it will be an explanation for everything.

Ecstasy

You know, I feel like the winds of desire and hope are flowing through my veins and tickling my muscles, and expanding into my organs... Every time my heart beats, I can feel the blood pumping magically through my body like an elaborate roadway. The rainbows are trying to find a way out, so they shine through me, trying so hard to release what's been kept in for so long... As if what I know now is what I've always known, and I'll always know it... I am my own universe, my own galaxy, my own solar system, my own Sun, my own Earth, my own self... And I am both everything and nothing at the same time. I am Me, Myself, and I, and no one else... And no one else is me. So, if I am everything and nothing at exactly the same time in every moment of my life, in every moment of time itself, then what is everyone else? If no one is me, and I am everything and nothing, what is there left to be?

Resentful Utterance

I turn the page once more,
but this time I won't believe you.
Again
you want to tell me your word is worth something?
Equivocation.
Betrayal.
This attainment you speak of cannot be gained.
You'll just go back to that hole you call home
and expect our forgiveness.
Not this time: I'm finished.
I've eaten your false words
that were shoved down my throat
for the last time.
This dirty plate is thrown at your face
and you have absolutely
nothing to say.
Is your discontentment
worth all the bullshit?
One would hope so,
but I don't...
And it's not, is it?

Herds of Cattle

What's wrong with me?
Why did I do it...
I tore it apart. It's worthless.
Its words meant nothing.
Throw it all away.
So I did.
Then I thought again...
Burn it. Burn it all to the ash it deserves!
Did I so.
Satisfaction... Or was it?
Until I thought once more, it was.
But it was a lie...
So I lie here and pretend to sleep,
and I think of the lies--
the lies I've known,
the lies I've told,
and the lie I've become.
No one understands the lies, and that is why they lie...
Imitation.
And so did I...
But desistance
has shattered my resistance.