The Tide

Rolling in

washing over

inevitable force flowing into every conscious moment.

finding who I am

destroying who I was supposed to be

The child died

stillborn into a world without wonder

understanding pain

rage

hate

there has to be something better

the riptide says no

pulling down

pulling away

filling lungs

the black water becomes the void

filling every moment

cleansing through rage

filling every moment

pieces of me

washing through the wake

hoping for a shoreline

glancing shimmering visions of a reflected moon

full on the surface of the deep

calling me up

through the turbulence

Following the light

Luna crossing the sky in time

Ticking away with the crashing waves

calling me back to shore

The jealous water holds me

her embrace familiar

whispering trickles of fear into my soul

that she has always let me catch breath

that she just wants to hold me

Fingers in the saturated sand

pulling into the frigid air

the sharp pain of wind biting

the caress of the deep still on my legs

reminding me that she kept the cold at bay

that feeling is pain

she can hold me

Fist fulls of primordial soil

every agonizing moment dragging me to the high tide line

baked in the cold glow of the moon

who called me

the skin falling away with every inch

exposing raw, enervated flesh to the ravages of the stones

the sand

the hungry gale

She roars at me from the depths

rising up, carried too by the moon’s pull

following the same thread

lapping at the naked flesh of my legs

trying to hold

slipping back into her death bed

her depth bed

The wind dies

the roar fades

and she whispers a song of loss

I lie on my back

eyes to the blinding moon

bathed in the luminescence

feelings, sounds, vibrance no longer mute

no longer held

no longer Held

The cool dark night

Most monsters are not active. They just… “are”. It is their potential that terrifies. Sitting, invisibly, out there in the dark. Allowing you to convince yourself that you are safe where you sit.
They do not have to do anything, really. Just exist. Quietly living their lives. Usually, they are oblivious to your fear as they matter far more than you do. You have placed them in that position of status. You are meaningless to their existence.

Until you decide to do something about them. Then you are reminded why you did not stray into their bailiwick. So you, unable to tolerate their quiet existence, prepare yourself. You learn to tolerate venturing into the darkness. Build your strength. Your resources. Accept the pressure and the shift in thinking.
You try to become the hunter of hunters.

But as you train, and modify the neural pathways to accept the reality of what you want to do, you begin to have an understanding. An “endarkenment”. The frightening shadows that once repelled you, now call to you. A cool, embracing comfort. The dark feels more home than the safety of the fire. That warm ring of light you have clung to for so long leaves you feeling naked, and exposed. Like ice on an exposed nerve in a broken tooth.

So you retreat more often into the cool, dark, but alive nights. You begin to witness the savage beauty that surrounds you. The visceral reality of the rest of the world. And the truth begins to dawn on you. You are no longer interested in monsters. You need to expand what you know about this broader, more vibrant world.

As you walk away, you hear the whispers of those still imprisoned by that blinding, searing ring. They no longer comfort you. They are almost silent, against the call to hunt. Fading quietly into distant memories. Because, now, you can truly begin to live.

Brand New Truth

You’re all so fragile
so broken
fractured beneath the skin

Facade of virtue
of kindness
Cover the hate within

Projecting weakness
your flawed core
Become what you despise.

You are the coward
weak minded
Lost in your fucking lies

Loathing your disease
vapid snow TV’s
low roar static ease
master you displease

Eyes devoid of thought
so empty
Moral bank drained again

Stare into white noise
void embraced
Tali Hebitudine

Rotting potential
so fetid
devoted to garbage

You got yours ’till death
cult of doom
pray that it all will end

Mythos spreads disease
keyboard vector fleas
suck life from the trees
Mort humanities

Meat Factory – Brain Sausage

The mouse runs the meat department for the
entertainment factory
Grinding up bodies and feed them to the grinder

babysit the next misery
filled braindead baby
plaster them up for the spectacle finder

Use them and abuse them
then toss them to the wolves
Profit from the meltdown when they’re set free

cut the strings of the puppet
and watch it falter
sell the leaks to the public for a tasty fee

Mind Fuck the little ones
Blessed are the trusting
The gatekeepers point
and feed them to the lusting

Fill them full of pills
put them in production
you’re never too young
for lipo service suction

The public shops the store
when they flip channels
justifying use of the next tender cattle

ratings ever higher
when they come of age
assassinate character when cages rattle

If there are no skeletons
then they’re manufactured
turn up the intensity of the gaslight

show them the leverage
if they ask questions
watch them embrace the life and refuse to fight

Mind Fuck the little ones
Blessed are the drugged
The gatekeepers hunger
and everybody shrugs

Fill them full of pills
put them in production
you’re never too young
for sparkling seduction

Random Thoughts

Structured religion is not something I can attach to.

I feel the claws of something gripping me in all the vacant, accepting eyes around me.

The blissful release of responsibility. The abdication of morality.

I see the same thing when I hear talk of hardcore patriotism.

Of giving power to the state.

Another abdication of morality.

I wonder.

Would these people surrounding me gleefully run rampant, rape, steal and kill if they did not have some threat of violence hanging over them.

Some eternal damnation awaiting them if they slip.

The stick ready to swing.

The cage at the end of the hall.

The needle.

The noose.

The gun.

The same person telling me I will burn or be torn to pieces…

The same person supporting the pedophiles…

The same person supporting the man strapping a suicide vest on a child…

The same person supporting the troops in the jungle bashing babies against a tree trunk…

They tell me they are morally superior because they have a structure of brutality to back their beliefs.

They are not always sure what those beliefs are.

But they are sure everyone should follow them.

Follow or face punitive measures.

I do not have the arrogance to name God.

The creatures of creation that set in motion this universe may not even be aware of our microcosm.

So, with science telling me to question the validity of my immediate world and worldview…

With my perceptions telling me what causes harm…

With my soul not sold…

I act to harm as little as possible and help when I can.

If I can.

I am not always a good person according to various codes and creeds.

Jesus would not smile at my everyday life.

Mohamed would not hesitate to remove my head.

Buddha would say I am far too attached.

Jehova would have me struck down.

The man with the crown, the badge, the scepter.. would cage and enslave me.

But my ordinary life, in the search for greater things and in the pursuit of some comfort in physical and spiritual hedonism…

leaves me exhausted.

Sometimes fulfilled.

Other times empty.

But always busy.

One day I will flip the switch on my own and explore the darkness beyond these eyes.

When I am tired of this pursuit.

Perhaps all I will do is flip a switch and there will finally be silence

peace

as the vibration of the energy within the meat of my body is carried into the chaos of the flame.

The potential consumed to become so much smoke, steam, and ash.

And then I will be gone

Until the last time, someone says my name

remembers my face

knows that I existed

closes their eyes

closes the book

and the vibrations I left on this plane

settle into the entropy

that will one day claim us all.

Comfort.