I'll just go back to pretending I'm living

My insides are a kingdom, and its territory extends each day. People's memories and experiences shine as stars in its boundless sky. Some dim, few vibrant, and many invisible. Their worlds elude my touch. For every perspective I begin to see, my planet seems insignificant as its cosmos grow larger. Every night I understand less and crave so much more. My heaven humiliates me with size, fulfilling a truly empty person.

Manifesta Musica

I don't have plans. I don't have a direction. I pity the thought of education being solely for one's career. I detest the thought of being another brick in the corporate pyramid scheme. That goes for the military as well. Money disgusts me, reminds me of blood, the way people suck it out of you and bleed you dry. People will kill eachother for it. They will take it from their spouses by divorcing when the wealth has accumulated. The need for money has replaced the struggle for food; While people are getting fat on excesses of sugar and carbs, they worry about subtle changes in oil prices. Tell me one fucking part of this game matters. Do it, argue your heart out. I disagree.

I was born in love, infused with it. It is my strength. It is raw, overwhelming, pure, perfect, and unmovable.
I don't need God to save me from misanthropy. This love is real. No person, male or female, can revoke this feeling inside of me. Not through sex, affection, gifts, guilt, or hatred. Two empty people searching eachother out, trying to fill holes their parents left. Women want the strength and confidence of their fathers, and will go to great lengths for a man who maintains such a facade. Men want the beauty and affection of their young mothers, and will let themselves be leashed like dogs to get it. And if those aren't the driving factors behind men and women talking to eachother, then it's getting laid. Sure, the girl plays it coy, the boy plays it smooth, and it's all blatantly obvious to anyone not fueled by hormones. What happened to communication? Honesty? Why do we have to figure out arbitrary body language and decode obscure subtle hints? Fuck that.

I appreciate the intimacy and passion shared in sex. The euphoria of fingers gently dragging across skin, kisses so soft ones entire body begins to spark, tongues stroking as if to briefly converse. It's the reason estranged encounters can't cut it. Even the rush of mastering someone, putting them in their "place" has its gratifying sensations, but most men and women settle for "suck muh dick and I'll fuck you on your back." What a crock. Where's the creativity? Why are men so lazy with foreplay, and why are women so lazy in actual intercourse? Or vice-versa; because apparently "gender" has nothing to do with "sex," and a male can be a "woman" and a female can be a "man." It's not even important. We're people. We don't need "genders" to feel secure about our habits and personality. The male libido wears off 3 seconds after ejaculation, and the female libido wears off as soon as her dream guy stops being so cool and mysterious. And both libidos wear off when it becomes the same shit every day. Different sexual needs become more important than friendship or companionship, regardless of whatever "feelings" two people insincerely fashion.

So here I am, 20, no longer compelled by wealth and relationships. I've saved myself about 20 more years of bullshit. For most people, a world not centered on sex and money would seem counterproductive. But I have other yearnings. Strong emotions tip me over the edge at night when I'm staring at the ceiling. Dancing flames, lighting equalizing, waves crashing and rippling, silhouettes of trees flickering with the wind. Sounds flood my soul and for two brief hours I am content, alone in the dark. Abstract images disintegrate into specs and waves as my imagination and logic tandem analyze nature's motivation with reality's fabric. The Universe and all of its inhabitants share one common desire; to exist. To defy non-existence. To grow and one day fill this overwhelming empty vacuum that surrounds us. This absurd notion of reality is only balanced by the paradox of observation. The deeper we look into our surroundings, the less we see. Emptiness is pervasive, and these clear vibrant memories we hold dear are nothing more than darkness smeared with infinitely small sub-existing particles.

My concepts of right and wrong have drastically changed over the years. Life is not random, it is pragmatic. Chaos and choice serve as filler for actual explanations of being. Things are the way they are because they had to be, and thus the world is innocent, as are its dwellers. You wish to cast blame, dissociate from what is "wrong," and objectify facets of nature as evil. Look at yourself. Somewhere down the line your ancestors have raped, murdered, and stolen. Yet here you are, fighting evil, when you are nothing but its manifestation. If you were lucky enough to descend from a long line of "good people," I assure you they were savage at some point.

There is nothing this world needs rid of. I have no desire to wipe the planet clean of its terrorists, tyrants, and politicians. They are to be remembered for what they were. They are necessary, for without them true peace can never be realized.

I have thoughts. They are all I wish to possess. Their unfolding is my entertainment. Their growth is my satisfied wallet. Their expression is my passionate relief. When I have secured my thoughts from all sides, that's when I'll hit the stage. It's where I belong, it's what I crave above all else. I didn't know myself until recently; which is a bitter shame - I am my best friend, and no one makes me happier.

Burger King

Broken laughter stifles sadness, jester lost in humor's madness
Reaching out with trembling fingers, frozen cold where memory lingers
It all depends upon your birth, Heaven and Hell are here on Earth
Stars align as shrieking chimes, the final sign of ending Times
Pulsing sun begins to flicker, close your eyes to end it quicker
Mankind dies out with a whimper, compared to war it's all much simpler
Looking back, begin to stare, home consumed in celestial flare

Pale Blue Dot

"We interrupt this program for an emergency broadcast."
"Do not turn the channel, repeat-"
Chatter box disturbed by an electric reluctance.
I was in my room when word of the event came about. Some were amused, many were frightened, and I was infinitely fascinated, consumed and often distracted by its significance. Even so, despite all analysis and rationality, I was on the same wavelength as the rest of the world: "What IS it?" To describe it perfectly would be difficult, but it could be visualized as a crown of teeth opening all around the perimeter of our local Universe. On the Internet they're saying the galaxy super-cluster cores have finally combined at the center, forming a degree of super massive black hole still incalculable in nature and effect. The Suns and Moons and planets have all simultaneously decreased the time their orbits take to complete. Curiously, the complexity of star radiation signals has increased, with their focus honed to exchanging with other stars. Days and nights have grown noticeably shorter in the last forty years, considering it only took what is estimated to be ten for it to transpire. What the news had to say wasn't interesting. I already knew what the greatest scientists of our time thought; The Big Bang has finally accumulated an unimaginable level of super density in the very spot it unleashed the known world. Telescopic satellite imagery baffled us, yielding compelling proof of matter literally shrinking as it approached the center of the Universe, showing microscopic beads where vibrant flowering pools once splashed and overlapped. In the opposite direction, galaxies on the perimeter of the void are spinning in the cosmos as quickly as the black core. We are at the center of this radius. Half of Humanity's galactic dwelling is quickly being sucked into a spiraling abyss, and the other half is going to be accelerated out of the known Cosmos. God has played dice with our rocks of moss, and we're quickly realizing who the real dragons of this Eden are.

Thoughts are reflections of feeling. Unguarded feelings lead to ugly thoughts.

One day I will die. Persona shattered around its husk and the magic is done. Euphoria and pain subside to dust as the illusion of Will fades. Choices and their meanings gradiate black. In the end, my life was mine to enjoy, just as it was the Cosmos to destroy. Yet only alive could I imagine death's horror. Only could the present be squandered over such sad thoughts. Likewise it is the present which serves medium to pleasure. In the past I did softly speak, thoroughly distraught and challengingly meek. It is Now that I may sever for Self a piece of what life really "means."

fire is motion, work is repetition. we are all defenses

trapped in the world wide web, searching, searching
for new enlightenment to disenchant old burdens

In the triangle, divine names acutely aware,
summoning souls, demonic names I did dare
pumpkin spices the air, cream left to rot
dining with the cosmos, my time, it's not

meter's running, guzzled out of time. Not ashamed, I have to say
it was worth letting you know, in what is truly my own way
intersecting interest is what I intend to last
regardless of either unrelenting dark past
that said I'll leave it for the future to grasp

it doesn't matter how much time, you never forget that forgetting requires ________

always tellin me, it's you your nails keep biting
pervasive thoughts I think you think
perverting my colors, another blind sighting
A presence can't waft like sandalwood,
but virtue clings to the wind I keep inhaling
truest to self, so the ship doesn't sink
cowardly exaltation, unquestionably failing
clouds disperse, own two legs understood

gems anchor ground, filled with sentiment
holding down my crown like wet cement
cognitive throne fractures;
ones head is no place to sit