fragments of solitude

Lyrics to Life

[fragmentsofsolitude]

a sky I’ve seen before

your sky                        to hold                your blue            before was mine                      a plight               still here              this view to see                           as if                     up in                   I’d felt that night                      this tripe             the sky                its tune a scene                        ballasts               where I                to drift now borne                    the sense           have all               on with forlorn                           of self                 ways been          the gales

I’d hoped                     but what             and clouds         ether the waves                    could drown       are still                to stare would squelch             away                  that pink              once in your name                   the sight             so soft                 her hair into                              when sky           which lays            and always the cold                       and sea              within                   dreaming wet sand                     are flush              a love                              of.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

a pseudo-hippy’s lament on a decrepit environment

Inside sentences still gloating these mercenaries have legally expressed blowtorching of our atmosphere illuminating aura's certain death with syntax incoherent for existence not as true as a surreptitious plight we have still yet to prove

and surely, no manifestos were writ with intent to misconstrue veneering purposelessness with pithy platitudes yet we are still there, within the factions of dispute assiduously seeking a chance at redemptive proof

don’t count their follow if you are as the masters of fault’s brigade but do count it still as it always has where nature seeds and sews in turn and blossoms in this overture a chance for life again to flower

the blissful gifts of you, without which I can’t unless you too do join this dance the pathos of us all in a heaven which has bestowed us with a gift a place where we can still hear the movement of unadulterated bliss

[fragmentsofsolitude]

eroticism subdued

physicality screaming you*

*             in essence of "yes"

wordings beating through this chest

                                                      yet the night says here "slow"

                                                      without that word, soon

                        into                            suspension                           go disbeliefs

                                    for a moment here, anyway

                                  these bodies can truly breathe

                                    these minds can fully be.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

“We are all part of a tremendous intimacy we call creation, a beautiful, violent, erotic explosion made of stardust and love.”

- Llewellyn Vaughan-Lee (Transformative Imagery, 194)

[fragmentsofsolitude]

El Cerrito (I am now)

El Cerrito -

  - I am here

     where impulse melts

        away the fear

          these semblances circumventing

            conceptions of time

              in reception of wants

                precariously submits

                  through bodies, synced

                      as oneself, in mirror

                                           and she is as now as this will ever be

                                       and she sees now what once was miserly

                                    for she is as real as you'll ever dream

                                 where she is the now, you are, too

             p        a        n        o        r        a        m        i        c

in vulnerability

the beautiful choice.                         ;                     the freedom to lose.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

we do part

Insofar as the way will go,

we wander without follow and autumn is again against the season of the very love

by berkshire, the youth I am coldly wished into my head your thought, I could regret your scent, stilled to a silence

some-bodies in neverforgetting straits of fictitious alimony, in occult of this bed kills for the null; sells for sympatric sense, yet, is now parting, without recompense.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

the gyrl is the wyrld

The Gyrl is the Wyrld in her softness I am sickened - Womyn, if we won’t, then sing me of my sweetness - The impetus, borne of the vision of completeness squalling sentiments, as romantic impulse lengthens; a will to be is found, a will for not, now vanquished.

All previous beliefs, entrapped in embankment pushing now for the struggle: sterile eyes for the ceiling, killing feelings with feeling, longings dotting silver-bullet meanings; the moon and sun afar, embellishment aplenty subsistent sculptings that, still, somehow, escape this moment transcending to the cusp of existential crisis and with lust, we go into our wyrds, - speaking so true, without the thought of being heard -

[fragmentsofsolitude]

pre-loved

I came to you in a tattered box scratched on an edge, fallaciously used reliced in impurity to a memoir of abuse and innocence I learned from you still alive in the comfort of an apocryphal noose as it wrapped around I thought it would surely break and then realized I never told you: to let you in was not out of fear but the worry of a mother late back home, I can feel that tear run astray following the path that others had not a tear that lead me to you, still unworthy of this sickness pre-loved, she told me “There is no witness to your pain.” and for that, I’m here to stay.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

Circumstance

we were raised in burbs with supplanted sentiment as 
products of circumstance fleshed out through dermic ubiquity 
and the promise in promiscuity of proletarian privileges just an orgasm away from the postulated pleasure rooted in perversity of mind and soul

for what good is good, and what from it if it stays from where it came?
 as a people needing reason over change
 to usher in ideals which derange by gently lulling murmurs with lullabies through vagal coaxing of the venerable mind

we are the scrupulous seekers of truth born into paradigm on interstellar plunge 
where cosmos are for dreamers, hornily clad in leathers while you’ve shaped out your misfortune to be exactly the way you deserve, exact in emulation of what you find most absurd.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

theorem

discord is measured in docility - a unit that I did square myself off to the rest of the world by wandering the equation spitting lyrics without rhyme or reason giving no solution to the cunning pretension in the solvency I seek || with you to kiss I quoted Regan on my fist and sent him begging like you were the snitch to figure out the theorem that sits infinitely incomprehensible upon the human mind yet I still knew my inequivalence, so maligned.

you kept me here. by the safe. I guarded the future, and we burned through the fabric looking through the hole of the glass that’s moon I do say it is a wonderful night to be alive as drifters the demonstrative demigods in our own fates were never meant for the mathematical brains when our universe has propagated an innumerable solution that is shifting on the day every night is then a chance to grow using love to convey, without numbers to portray.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

that moment when

that moment when you finally realize you are free, purely and utterly, from everything that was, is the moment you are you.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

Halving the Whole

look at all the ways we denigrate halve ourselves in the face of unattainable wholeness looking for reasons to reach beyond the void of nothingness, an artifact of what was because you once were where you’re not now and it feels as though your foolish sorrow was inconsequentially procured to censure that which is you know is not pure

I go where I am unhappy I stray from what I need if love is fluid in its morals then why are we incomplete? in your innocence I cannot by the side of what is true then I hurt me, so deeply and wonder unto to you. was it so far gone you cannot see an end?

toward mediocrity, a commonly dignified ploy, where everyone’s mistakes are an understatement of their own give me rest, sing me joy wholly half in undue poise.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

stalk

emptied night orangeish light tell it like it is definitely seeing it right you’ve done it yet again how, after everything you said you could be what harshness does this road unveil here on your gloomy parking lot curb I’ll haunt you yet and forever shall you know etched deepest condolences of the last smirk I gleaned which lurks deep into life of the ones I love when if we sum it up in two words or less I would not choose those which posit you undressed.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

Top 6 ways to tap into your inner nihilist

1. watching tweens vaping outside a Starbucks in Walnut Creek 2. the radio 3. posting on social media 4. suckling at the meager drippings from the teet of acceptance 5. realizing there is a valid counterargument to everything you believe in 6. sheer unoriginality

Top 6 counterarguments to the top 6 ways for tapping into your inner nihilist: 1. why not 2. fuck yea Adele 3. hey how do you get more likes? 4. stop being such a Negative Nancy, Nichael 5. ok but you’re just flat out wrong. 6. aren’t we all?

Top reason to be you: 1. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WuDwUnhwPAk

[fragmentsofsolitude]

to hell and back

why even bother? you are too low on the stem. at the top is the sunlight, and the leaves soak it up so you’re down here in the dark, with nothing to do three years from self-heart-break? you’ve got nothing to lose.

you’re closing condolence you had held from yourself you’ve been there before, who would go back to hell? what do we learn at the bottom of that pit? what’s in this fiery blaze that despair emits? the embers of the strife that was surely too soon? to me, it was the last way to live, knowing everything I’d ruined.

you were just a faint soul waiting to be pushed into oblivion without her.

[fragmentsofsolitude]

I think it is what is not, in truth unflinching in demeanour creates insipid kinds of "cool" yet still does not improve my sense of self so brittle in it's bedrock. philosophically inarticulate. unopulently charismatic. which I know is not the same as quietly passing off the day time in evanescent evening by the wayside the turmoil of courage leaps into the new life I'll only be who is me, and that is just fine

[fragmentsofsolitude]

pre-mortem

Wasting away with complacency of time. You fool, to think he that is so sublime, not a word from you as you murder your own soul. A body                          worthless passerby         see what they choose to see             go on with their lives only to think, on that very day who could I have saved? His knowledge thus abstained, through guilt vicariously inane. You are no more than your weakness, that blends in with the night, as you drink away the rum and coke making mercy of the plight seeking refuge in the sky for mortem’s martyr you are writer of the fate be the one that they will allow with copious self-hate.