I’m not a coke fiend
I’m a hope fiend

Opened
eyes
…and scene!

…

Major misbehavior
I pledge allegiance to faith,
Captain Lifesaver

I can only be taken
as far as my savior wishes,
whether that be the illusion
of fame, women, and riches
or the solemn sageness of wisdom

Life is the same
slaves running around in mental prisons
even the blessed among us
blaming below for minor glitches

I will radiate altruism
while I beg for forgiveness
still sinning, spiritually orphaned
from the beginning

…

autographs on a page
polyglot
speaking
angel songs

the blind leading the blind all along

the message
the same
except
the page
changes,
stained with
Inky sorrow,
salty and hot

Why are we left here, forgotten?

Guns firing in the distance
cadavers breathing, but rotten
peace an illusion
killed by clips that eclipse
our imagined bliss
ignorance

…

the message is the same
whether we lie about it or not
our comfort is more important
and for that the dead must be forgotten

I have a crush on the way
you stimulate my mind
your voice is like a fulcrom point
that shifts and itertwines

the spirit of the moment
and the light that shines within us
winter is the coldest
and I can see your breath holds interest

when it plumes like vapor webs
adrift into the atmosphere
what your winds do bring me
will last me forty years

because throughout the decades
I’ll look back with a smile
at the way your eyes embrace me
as we talked away the while

haikus are shortcuts.
draped in nature, they enchant
like burning forrests.

I am the unbreakable will to live
I experience it within my hungry belly
as it bubbles and then languishes existentially

Here I am a prisoner of the moment,
trapped within the veil of certainty
faith consuming my critical energies
that would suck away any disguise
that would be donned by the occult truth

A consumer of unwilling obedience,
I am trapped within the paradigms manifold
that are elevated as objectivity,
which I LAUGH at, previously indoctrinated
to the pragmatism of the necessary deception
that is FAITH
that is LOVE
that is SOUL

Yet we can in so many ways understand this life
through the lizard brain which subconsciously
controls our supposedly willful thoughts,
our theoretically calculated expressions, and
our systematically programed ideals

I toss aside the conspiracy theories of others,
replacing them with my own
because the counter-histories that I envision
are a more comforting story
warming bitter dreams
like coffee grounds within a boiling coffee pot
that I will share with whoever
needs to be awoken

Yet I am the one that sleeps,
with wishes being spoken into existence
by the television screens
of FAMILY
of FRIENDS
of HOLIDAYS
of KIDS
of JOBS
of FULFILLMENT
so within my grasps
and yet always moving away
as perfection is elevated
and good enough is disregarded
as acceptance of mediocrity

Yet who does not find comfort
in the arms of acceptance
as I finally learn to capture
the essence of what is self-esteem:
the rejection of what others hold me to;
the cutting apart of what obfuscates my eternal joy;
and the embrace of sanity or insanity,
through whatever state my mind vacillates

The anthropologist of the soul seeks to understand themselves
as a product of mortality
as a witness to truth
but never able to recollect it,
only able to recommend facts to others
but failing to suss out the important ones

Instead they must study the stories
that we tell ourselves
in order to feel comfortable
with our own discomfort
over our place in the
“grand scheme”,
or the great chasm of history,
sucking us into the vortex
of prideful ignorance

Narrative grows out of lack of repentance,
living in this world,
sucking up the nutrients
and growing into damp fields
of dewy softness,
potently palpitating
in the purifying air,
in the terrifying light
that shines over the world:
the objective misery of entropy

However, while it still trembles
it is a beautiful lie
that it will never end,
that furthermore never ends
within the legend that material culture produces,
ultimately being smothered by energy
and being reconverted into the singularity of matter

I put my expectations into a conjured story
like I was the sun in the solar system

I cannot ask her to revolve around me
I must bring her in with my gravity
otherwise it would be cruel to both of us
she would have to turn me down
and I would have to be resentful:
no other options for either of us

the more I learn,
the more I learn to be a quiet storm
frothing on the inside
and the more I wish to discard
those winds, so that I may be a calm sea

I am dipped in the calamity of insecurity,
waiting to be set free from the chains of infatuation,
but I have been waiting too long in the eye
not to take a risk in the demanding downpour

to love and be ignored is silent death
to love and be loved is to be free
but I should not want to put this in her mind
for more than anything I want to throw caution to the wind
and hold onto to my desired casually