our Atman shriveled as the reservoir and the aqueducts crumble to the feet of our progeny and wide walls of lush verdant trees for undeserving eyes to see what will be passed down and what will fall? for those who hear the clarion call preservation in the age of deconstruction is the only heretical act i can see you through the black smoke paint drips off the end of your hair you are trapped in malevolent liberation reaching towards Lightning and the Son aghast are the rats as you climb offering nepenthe and semuta as we elude chthonic ways of nature the tiger's claws aren't as sharp now initiate, we must initiate it's the only way to regenerate the only way to recreate to rejuvenate to perpetuate Wu Wei philosophy will never be enough when we're not a growth but an afterglow retroactive life vest while the ship is capsized no orientation in mind or soul our Atman shriveled into Jivatman our priests are charlatans and our soldiers are surrogates and pawns i believe in the beauty of a new dawn a rebirth triumphant with white light but first there must be sacrifice and strife in a glorious death, an eternal life the black dog embodies our nature something prodigal to be soared above

to be so sure of one's own step such a blessing, ever fleeting confronted with a myriad of truths with no solidity, no unicity beckonings of consequence of Lucifer's mendacious pronged annihilating tongue i've been consigned to this pitiless magnetism a pole that grows ever the austral universes twisted into impious universalism all the isms pouring tar into the chrism mankind covered in the muck and the sludge traversing manifold destiny the end itself has been rotated 180 degrees drop to your haggard knees while a bad thing begets another bad thing and the blood of Mary flows into the estuary we inhale smoke from the carnal cloud becoming slaves to sensation, feel the contraction so prone to the emptiest of abstractions we're so far from where love was observe what's become of us never forget what has been lost never forget the inmost death

if nothing is free from the realm of the contingent God is dead and i must become him if man is a long heavy sigh trapped in being and time i will tear the muscles in my forearm in order to carry him out of the deadened reddened sea and into Agartha king of all worlds, a gleaming sword in my hand amid the glory of conquest, a gentle tapping at my conscience interrupted by ash trickling down on my head i had reached the center of centers, but it was veneer and facade bestowed with the consolation crown of king Nihilismus an acephalous and bloody wretched bunch we may be gurgling the filth of the aforementioned deadened reddened sea if God is dead we must revive him heaven knows we won't survive him oh how we miss you oh blessed fylfot i sense your absence in my soul and i see Christ bloodied and bleeding the yoke is loosened and dole and i know why she cries and i know why because it's midnight there's nothing left on the inside there's a stigmata on my tongue all our cities are sprawling and falling mark another tally, o indelible one

do you feel right? do you have that sense at all? can you act kind? can you act some way at all?

gust of wind through the window unbecoming smells and poofed up hair portraits of children that aren't yours can't remember what's for dinner abject decrepitude just rotting in a room an emaciated figure carries your dried up womb your bloodline is now dead perhaps for the best television induced coma programmed into anxiety what is negativity in a world of negation? i ask you again, what is negative in this corrupted age? your fat sister isn't there to comb your knotted hair put all my sweet sugary pity in your iced tea you cling to life like a child to its mother's bosom another drop, another numbness for a modern woman what is negativity in a world of negation? i ask you again, what is negative in this corrupted age? to be unshaken during an earthquake of vice to be dry amidst a tsunami of filth to be so still caught in a tornado of depravity to be free from corrupted Samsara to never live consigned to life to embrace strife to welcome pain this is the way the ancient way to live for death but not in death to die for life and embrace strife escape from the clutches of your mother o' decrepit one and breathe free air

across the room this gray cancer spreads of its own inertia, symptoms converge as branches ensconcing themselves around the nether perimeter of the firmament, raining sterilizing ash upon the soil dividing us from absolution and the Absolute, concealed in sparks and traces and breeding resentment among the separated, and a bad thing begets another bad thing while Rajas gives way to Tamas my friend shaves my hair again and i lack detachment and i need to do laundry alameda, what's your name? i drove past your home the other day how long have you known you were that way? (never forget the inmost death) giant panda, aren't you sick of all the unreality? tossed back and forth between night and day the clutches of the beast conjoin the clutches of the witch, marry the branches of the west, infect the volksgeist of the east the virgin weeps in sonorous grief  elegiac, cosmic motif                                                                                                                                                                            a coronach as a coronation, to honor this new repudiation                        i've seen your face in cantankerous old men, and in young impudent lesbians                                                                                                      don't go get coffee with your old friend, his pierced goat nipples will reel you back in swagged out in a 92 honda civic, your effulgence is truly prolific              a miscegenating dullard analyzing j cole's metaphysic the virgin weeps in sonorous grief                                                              elegiac, cosmic motif

the taste of the coffee blends with the taste of toothpaste i'm gagging on monday i felt sick on thursday morning big nosed man with the flaming baseball cap in a taxi cab, 40 bucks to work listen to bugs talk at this gay job i wanna fuck off, but does this action offend god? flirting with mudsharks won't get you too far taking kratom from this samoan kid, i thought it was moringa tea five hours of sleep is not what my muscles need i stare at a screen the whole team needs some energy drinks how can i pray to what i don't understand stuck in man's tripartition i'm nodding off on sobriety riffs washing over me a coven with no loyalty beckoning reconciling what it is to be when static placidity is obviously what's best for me drifting on currents of entropy moving towards a settling down away from all that will never breathe can't help inhaling the bullshit cowards in the pulpit plucking from the bough i wanna talk about Satan as the trash in the ocean if that's alright with you i'm bored of all your tears and i'm sick of all your fears man i'm bored of everything i hear i wanna talk about how to shrink the evil in my soul if that's alright with you now i'm back home withdrawn in this malaise a haze of autarchy of night and i know there's nothing more powerful than the will to powerlessness for the modern man knowing this as a sovereign presiding over this darkness the magic of this town and all its cataracts and arboreal constructs how vertiginous is this hell that i've sculpted for myself walking to work on a hot autumn afternoon in my torn up blue walmart shoes head bowed to the power of failing adjusting my emotions like the knobs on the line 6 my mom bought me when my tube amp broke is why i can't in good conscience write love songs anymore sister in arms latched onto songs about girls i didn't have the heart to tell her our vanity was in vain a jesse lacey in all of us whispering saccharine lies and pillow talk praxis to my woman just to keep her around my woman, yeah, she likes to hear me play my guitar but you're up in your salem with your family doing beautiful things in canopies far away from me blessed by normalcy and all its purple k banality and all the mountains look the same "come back again some other day when i've got something beautiful to say" then i won't have to beg you to stay if i'm in purple scrubs listening to the clock ticking nostrils burning from shit stained flowers women bereft of fleeting power sometimes at night you can hear the chaos boiling it's a bit concerning but a happy worker is always working a testament to human resilience is the thread of functionality our kind cling to all of us unwitting cowards all of Satan's children those who appear in human form but the flies gather around them i want a complete separation how envious am i of those who peer into hidden caverns of life those who die free after a barrel roll over the washington sunset the boundless tillage of this solar spirit and year round there is a harvest fruits that grow on clandestine trees from intangible seeds amidst a burning albion, i dreamt of tuscany i have to pray that the desperate sound waves i make reverberate into forever for fear of annihilation every second i have to pray that the desperate sound waves i make reverberate into forever

sweat dripping from your back it drips onto my tongue and i taste the wretched one and we turn into an ouroboros of doubt and i wish there was something more than this traversing into darkness off into the vast black sea

i don't wanna live my life in this tortured desire batted around by winds of suggestions and sins filter the smell but an inner stench remains i always get caught in the transition of states i am alone i am anhaga and my duty is my own