worlds getting warmer, we're going the other way!!
In another life I am the zeightgeist
This worlds mind resting comfortably in the plains of able
Utopia is just a cruel past
Platonic forms warping around my fingers like Play-Doh
The contemporary fashion are boots of clay with diamond heel counters
Short lives celebrated for unbridled ambition for the deep beyond
Shapes are but snacks in the vending machine
Cardinal unlimited the layman is the virtuoso
Subversion a cheap joke
Tears in the rain Dust in the air Smoke in the lungs Life being lived
In this age of architecture the sky is but bedrock for the betterment of all matter.
The age of dream has become the era of nightmare. Optimism has been bled like a stuck pig and we house ourselves in its corpse clinging to bones sucked dry by our ancestors children. We have become accustomed to live on nothing, to starve, to remember instead of reclaim. Our prerogative should be violence, revolution, the heads of our masquerading beneficiaries. With our remaining strength we are obligated to fashion shivs from the ribs until weapons are naught but spikes decorated with heads. Yet, our god-given right to choose has blessed us the ability to be passive, to stall, to drain out until our corpses too feed our children. Our primal instincts are the only tool left to preserve us, but instead we lay our heads restless and pontificate about other worlds. The human condition has become longing. When others die, we celebrate that we were chosen to exist another day.
Life, it is still.
Our only respite are the stories we have conjured from the arid soil about better times, better people, and better lives. Every day I wish my body less organ was afforded an appendage, a thrall, a voice. Anything to move me from unflinching helplessness.
In another life I am the zeightgeist



















