fragments

An amalgamation of assorted writings and stream of consciousness poetry. All originals (except for the occasional quote).

[vormov]

forfeiture (this is the last time, i swear)

drown out all the noise, your sound is larger than theirs it lasts until the infinities coalesce and the ridges all dry up into paper to fold the earthes into partitions.

your voice is louder for those that can listen it'll guide people beyond your sight, beyond your call into the night we tread it anyway, like a bell tolled to fixture the lights in the sky for tomorrow.

i'll leave the earth knowing these words escaped me, knowing the earth will dissolve away one day and the sun will exhaust and all the money you made or worked would integrate to 0 and the last whispers of anything will always continue the future to be gone. nor the eyes can't even see it with the waves into the full path, nor the winds blow… but the words ive made will still somehow survive, the universe is obligated to remember.

i'll stand here forever waiting for the right moment, i dont care if you don't understand the stoicism make my mind think of it any other way and we'll talk of these notions, floating in emptiness, little souvenirs from the old path; can't forget ***

it is okay to feel defeated the universe is so much larger than we are you can't ever have what you want, so we all learn to settle for less. and little by little our souls get sucked out we bleed them with kind gestures, we excrete it through trying and forgiveness each piece I give is worth less to me than the last.

if i could only breathe a minute, just let me think. i can't be this bitter anymore…

though the oceans would sway me to harbor, i still take the scenic route— it's simply just more enjoyable that way.

i won't have you tear out my soul just to bleed dollars at teenagers, go fuck yourself. (07/01/26—don't ever give up. you got this, trust me.)

[canales-poe]

Instructions on Becoming a Tree

Playful, the grass pokes your back

As you look at the sky alongside it

You lack a sense of time today

As the view gets confused with your eyelids

In spite of the cars running by,

The birds still sing just the same,

A kid learns to walk for the first time,

And a book reads a life-changing message

Just then, you just melt in the grass

Beneath the sun, then a tree,

And its spotty shadow

To be the same,

To photosynthesize,

To listen to the cars, the birds, the kids,

And the movements of someone’s heart

To the view,

The book,

And the message.

[vormov]

what it costs to be generous (reversion)

the past is a portrayal nothing the mind can't navigate can't be without it for more than five minutes, builds up like stark towers spires as if the daggers could bleed the heavens upon us.

these ideas will build foundations for themselves and each and every thought will be part of the walls built to control or tower over, the rest is just rubble on the street; just a feign for all the directions we've lost take it back you liar would destroy it all for a whim, never understood it all like a pendulum of weathers combine them into sand.

the richness of your reply shows that i don't know what i'm talking about/fair me with the lesser men in the pits, where the damned go to pidgeonhole themselves. dreadfully at ease as the world collapses, couldn't say that I cared less. already deafened, already dumbed; just a cool breeze away from losing it all.

why am i like this?

"don't you ever lose that spark (don't you ever let go)"

[vormov]

i don't know who i am anymore / (armistice)

did you think i wouldn't notice when you didn't see the same moment as i, and sure, the provisions, but like aren't you human? don't you think like the others? please forgive me as the heavens collapse for a moment

the lip service could sell you a bridge. just be kind when you realize that you were fooled—it isn't your fault time to keep the light in mind, as we sweep our minds careful to try to see that shit coming, nor like the shadow portrayed would cast any doubt it can be enough to think of, knowing you were wrong just sing the psalms.

this drive toward a nature beyond us tends to leave thus could be and i'll dive above, just like the notions of sky blurred the sunset into my brain, a jagged spire delighting in the nonsensitivity. where do i belong in all this? couldn't i convince you to go backwards?

i can't even measure the self, who am i? a spirit to loath nought as we bleed this real blood and saw the real sky and felt the real feels, can't i just escape it again like i always do? get right up to the finish line then boggart a shade a just nature, don't blame him, he's merely a fool (the self lays in ever skepticisms, likely to never see it) the will of powers above to turn the currents below, they will see it as their powers cast downward

to the ground to the ground all i see and yet these eyes tired will yield light worth seeing; i'll be there to guide the willingness if you were ever to throw yourself at the cosmos. (06-07-26)

[vormov]

just so, dreamer

i am aloft again, just so the lightly touches of hands like a procession of souls, i'll know just before the plunge then never again. justify the way as we pass over the cosmic eye

a guest to denote the reassurance forgot how this whole thing worked, i guess not bearing the walls just so, if not the waves go. daunted vision he spilled up on the beach a turnstile of a past self washed ashore and we can sit here and dream it all, of course we all drift we all drift on the sky below

(not where you thought the way hasn't changed much at all has it?)

jewel is an inside this mountain; glowing like the midnight as we go on by just a feeling in the darkness can peer beyond, just like mom used to so solid the gaze-at-self we nearly turned to stone.

where do you pay your measures? again so aloft, the star dreamer spilled over his sky again, can't quite walk straight just a miss in the effort of the ether, we'll always dance together and drift we all drift we all drift on the sky below

(not where you thought the way hasn't changed much at all has it?)

when you cannot see the end nor the sky blocked by clouds so tall i'll be there with the torch bright as the heavens to see where our questions left off (05-07-26)

[vormov]

inheritance ("There are Thousands Sleeping in Peace")

when they tell you what to say, you bite your tongue lest they find another use for you.

where does one stand where everything is so blind or so caught up in the motions to notice the different sides.

ive always just been so lost in it all too curious to understand a whisper among shouts

i'll spend the next eternity breaking the symmetry in one way or the other it will define the next century why aren't you also so alarmed? (it's like i've heard this all before) ***

im not sure im in the right spot anymore, though i was the first to say it was a good idea.

where does one stand where everything is so fearful or so caught up in the motions to notice the difference. ('how am i not so further gone?')

so sorry for all of this, i have to exhaust my demons or they'll come running for me. we can be everything…

fathoms deep without regard nor aire nor fortune ahead just a sight to see or something to remember as you drift away to another reef, just another hanging solution in the waters. it just bleeds so you can see color, wonder how that works?

i can't keep the narratives straight anymore the winds are too loud and echo in the night, we'll lose everything we've gathered on this ship a total loss, sink the anchor. We're done —it's convoluted, the waters in which we wade muddy with corrosion like a blight can plague a mere moment in time. we'll grate at the edges, waiting for our turn at the failure 'over and over again'

i'd rather bleed it from my heart, cut it and let it spill all out an emotion so pure it cannot be undone. so severe a reply to something so unnoticed, i know, i know. just choose to be here now with me.

i'm nothing without the spouting of the ether, nor the shouts from the rooftops, aloud that angered the gods. i'll live my each step in misery if it means the others get to think; anything at all, wish they'd love or understand that this world will suck the selfish dry. don't deny your place in it, for we all are complacent just know that there are those of us that remember the old ways, the times before we all were such displays or tokens of pixilated divines, so blessed. i'd give the fortunes of earth for the answer beyond all of this. 'i'll never know'

one day you'll inherit this world and we won't have anything to say, as to why it is or isn't the way you expected. guess we'll all guess that next step forward each guess as infinitely wrong as the next until one day it'll all make sense; i dread that day. (Written in installments: 01-18-26, 02-09-26, & 2-14-26) (I wish I didn't feel dismal "If you love the guilt then let it die A life kept so clean will measure the price of misery But manifest a taste of paradise And surely you'll see the sin inside of me." —Periphery, Luck as a Constant)

[vormov]

12-30-25

the universe has its way of taxing you the bravest, nor the finest columns of people fall to it everyday, it takes something irrevocable from you —just a little piece. then gone to the whispers like the devil got you at the crossroads

"time to clock in" just another day, forward facing dunce nicely done. i'm awake again in the midsts, chasing old dragons that have been vanquished taunting foes to peer out of the pocketworks, but they don't come anymore. they just leer at you with that strange stare —am I not welcome here anymore?

lost the time, i suppose. the universe has its way of taxing you have to be honest about that just don't know what it means.

(grasp at those threads lend them grip feel teachingly tethered to the thoughts as the entire rest of the universe sighs, be the breath it needs to sleep.)

[vormov]

thief (the rivers all flow sideways)

the mind twists like the paint peeling off a wall just imagine how much you can feel. i can bear the weight, just not the idea of how further it goes or how many things it means a fountain of dismal information just spews forth as if the winds were blowing the crest of a mountain over.

i need to feel it in my heart use that muscle more than desired or rather contemplate all the ways mine has been depleted, jux that to the road and carry that weight always dreaming of atlas stones falling down the eternal mountain i would help him carry the weight if i could.

"he's just a bit sensitive, don't worry about him" i'll just corrode into dust then, to abscond with all the wind keep it here to myself, rambling madnesses like writing psalms. "nobody wants to hear that": like i don't fucking know just let yourself breathe it's okay to feel transpired.

you have to listen, really listen the winds say things, the rivers and waters all have voices—they speak all the time, you have to listen, really listen and all the things they have to say will fade into an obscurity so obvious that you'll be unable to understand just what they are saying to you. this happens everyday, the very rocks will sing i know i know i know—just let it go already.

to what fathoms others? can their fear be understood like a tool that makes fire or set alite the inner things, to spark the lauders to fall i can't know what the universe speaks of it grows intangible by the very idea of observation. "keep your eyes to yourself"

i need to feel it in my heart use the wind to inspire motion or rather see the difference that time leaves behind, jux that to the road and carry that weight always dreaming of atlas stones falling down the eternal mountain i would help him carry the weight if i could.

(i miss this creek by my house that i used to go to as a boy and listen to the waters ripple off of the old dam that used to be there for the mill—strewn with rocks, both natural and not. there was a small beach-like area near that spot and i sat there so many times, often alone, contemplating what the waters were saying. i miss that spot. in a lot of ways that spot taught me how to really listen.)

(11/24/25)

[vormov]

measures of self

i've seen where we're supposed to go i know the way, always have, it lays as an intrinsic to be discovered again and again; as awaken and fear or to trouble the light again for a sunrise.

haven't i spent enough time inside the darknesses? like their dissymmetry can convince the eye to disobey, just a measure of self is all you need—just a drop and you can have all that you have disappear, we don't have time for that. jeer at the horizon like we once did just breathe, you've been here before

you just careen by like a lightpost or a phantom and lean in as if the walls were a bit too crooked —i couldn't profess that they weren't; wasn't that, if you didn't feel so low ive been spending so much time behind me doesn't seem like anything at all

a dozen or more to force the bit let it go so that you don't face a pain, just relish in the fact of relinquished control a passing of arms in the midnight and we were never meant to know the truth. a god either absent or figurative can't save you

there is a certain pleasure in subtlety just as there is a presence in grace despite what i might say, i have always been hopeful; just know that one day they'll know what you're talking about. forever a fever dreamt before or after such things occur don't know what that's all about

like i spent echoes into the chamber on purpose just to see it roll or fumble, tumble around show that randomness that bleeds into every facet, just like how we understand the universe never to know ourselves; or vise versa. just a measure of self—a drop will do

i'm sorry to only skim over the cursory for we have such limited time. i'll dive into the details each and everyday until someone tells me to stop just say the word nobody ever does, just keep talking—idiota.

faker built of false faith, you are just like me, destined to collide like the biggest of beings or the smallest of specs these things unfold the colors of the seas an engulfing in the cosmic ocean just like me so why don't you feel it like I do?

(10-12-25 & 11-1-25)

[vormov]

dreamstate

why is it that every time i dream every word i read mentions it like i was subject to a self-torment why does it make my blood boil? each search a measure in futility never to walk into the sanctum, always to be searching i'll never know what it means. just laughing a ghost at the edges of my thought

won't these dreams relent and pose with me their problems no amount of words can get me out of this, it's just like being scalded by god or your mother. a liquid poured upon my face as torture particular methods for noticing details always lead towards overanalysis i'll pick it up on the otherside as social anxiety

why is it that every time i dream each measure weights me in deep to the thoughts compared to the flesh, this is paradise just mere notions have a way of motion inside the dreamscape we're free in a way that destroys me slowly like each inch i dream eats away ***

i'd like the compass, please i need to know that im not still dreaming. surrounded spheres like a circled above can't quite see it from here

i can steer the ship now, come find this tethered phantom in my place just a jeer at all the fucking others, not to notice the belonging; eternal dance began undoing all that raveled before or again, just know a measure was taken and placed upon your beacon. i'll comb over the details *** another spoke kept talking to me in dreams, just like the other told me of eternity please no more. my mind is sound without such lively cacophonies of blight, i can imagine them on my own. just a line between here and this oblivion, can't see straight awaken to dreary eyes spent seeing the nonce these whispers will guide you to the shower again.

'why is it always "dreams" i see it everywhere, every lyric, every song, it's all over the place' (09-19-25, 09-24-25, 09-28-25—my dreams so powerful i can't even remember why they mattered, unending and ravenous as they sprawl on forever. always going, discovering, seeking. never to find it at all.)

[vormov]

( )

almost; again it'll just drive off into this endlessness like the light fading off into the dusk a terrible peering into the night skies as if we'd let the electric expire; not to delve too far but you'll oblige me for not being so grateful

my meanings have shifted significant like a phase change. seas pour over the flooded portions now to gain ground into the deepest of landscapes, agate my mind of course to witness it all get destroyed by the fallowed mistake/ dreams can be such a bitch to understand.

won't you quiet my dreams just a bit? they are so loud and unruly to handle vividly i speak about people and ideal concrete poured in my mind to be rendered graphics as if my mind was merely rasterizing the surroundings it'll lead me to my doom-sized chasm; generous with the portions and i'll live it down to create the smallest a cretin can be, lust after the larger folks with their big-stepping awful stampede/ "can't you just talk like a normal person?"

if only the nerves could be quieted by mere motions then id understand the infinity above like a battle plan.

we'd laugh knowing that you couldn't be there, only an iron spent to coolly gather the others to rapture breathe believing i knew which way to go, never how petty would a soul have to be? couldn't feel this one either just an empty thing like a dial tone or a static/ i'd just love to know

(09-01-25—everything I write feels incomplete. Every idea I feel seems too much to muster. Can't even explain.)

[vormov]

they tossed the moon into the pond like a discarded beer can

nowhere close to here, my heart glows a bit just a bit further; we'll go on forever like that place in the blender that always gets stuck.

i forgave myself so long ago i forgot why i ever hated it or despised can't even see that as darkness now, the moon eludes us this night, but tomorrow is a maybe sing us that cosmic song you know from memory.

i'd (love) to leave even a trace of words for people in a thousand years, to think that i could try to make something last that long astounds me, at length i could explain, but know that i only wish something or at all to go on i don't envy the Fateweaver.

not even a question of faith given up lifetimes ago but still cries to the same songs, would i be lost if i couldn't explain it away ("where would we be?") to the universal song, just a dissonance in the noise…

is the echo loud in the canyon speak your mind like we lifted the ceremony and told you to go wild. just breathe, freely a dulcet way of saying i told you so. justify this way of a go at it like we spent the next nine minutes fathoming the unknown (and great that we understood this ahead of time) follow it to the dismal end just lie down on the track

id give my life to just know that people don't have to understand the stupid shit ive seen about our world, like get the fuck out if you don't get me, step away if what i say seems foreign. just go clear out if it don't make sense, this spirit is in us of all things and denies us the purpose of knowing. (won't you be humble about it?)

i'll gaze just one more time at the stars in the sky a one brief respite in the heated summer night, but beyond the cold horizon is the endless a might of ceaseless void, the stars merely gasp through this toxic atmosphere/ we're lucky to even see

(08-25-25)

[vormov]

(untitled) part 5

i used to love how the dawn pressed down on us woven like the lower grasses, meant to trample over don't mind me; i'd rather peer into this unknown than to know you better, perhaps we'd be happier apart. it feels as the worst, a rejection, but we must carry our masts forward

even when you weaken on the trial, the dirt will be your reprieve again and again. likewise spent the other side trying to enumerate how many ways I fucked up, but oh well—so it be; just a moment longer,/ i almost saw the purpose through the mirror…

i'm the selfish one the bearer of past mistakes, lover of the things we can't have knower of the tops of all the peaks. i'd rather dye exploring this new unknown gone further by the winds that blow

"A pioneer expecting the worst" / / / / / / / / / /what a joy, done forward like the motion of the very earth into the vibe, it'll break through a barrier you'd rather was left undone and all eyes are on you, devil peers only into the most interesting things we have. desperate just to keep the banjo going

can i have even a moment to catch my breath? we remember all the old things and new things alike summoned before a portion to judge, just like every measure was a mistake, each melody a misspeak. i'll drown in the dye each one anon born can't a gist never given to those that only seek just the bare minimum i am ashamed of this world; won't you seek this treasure to repeat? or will you leave it in our dust just like so many others (7/31/25—the seventh name is yours)

the quote is from the Volumes song Serenity.

[vormov]

(untitled) part 4

i never knew quite what to say though i wanted to, any less courage and i'd fall through the floor. don't mind me; gone within the next day's glory/ it's fine.

is this the end of thought? the way it can grip me like a thunderous rupture, i get carried away; less for the vultures to feed like the last time that i built my foundations, the river flooded. it's fine. the computers these days scare me, like i again was looking into the drugged-mirror, self: 'what are you afraid of?' 'dunno what it is but this place just creeps me out.'

i made a promise long ago, that i'd never give up not even for a single moment. easy to say; but a tough luck accomplishment.

would you meet me at the end of everything? where the nothings have finally drowned out all the sound a glimpse into infinite spheres and dimensions, you'd figure it out anyway. again this heat and the wind blows so close, no measure. (sigh) it was only a glimpse (7/27/25—welcome back)

[vormov]

(untitled) part 3

where do we wait for the cavalcade, like whispers of a forgotten time; spend less remembering it this will all point back to you, huh? a litefoot bourn upon a solfege. design the next frame so clean like the words just dribbled off of your shoulder, nevermind the fervent glow just below it'll all blow away with time. just you wait

the next time this specific orbital will be here is essentially never wonder how that affects the cosmos? never knew quite how to handle shit like that get carried away in idioms, let alone entire ideas or universes to travel, i could understand how far it is.

'i suppose i should thank you for being such a good sport about this'; can't remember when this all faded away though the winds could speak for us—we chose not to again, faith upon this central esoteric idea, can't think about it anymore.

as a whisper convoluting upon the echoes delve into this fortune like a miser buckled by the motion of darknesses—you'll perpetuate them. while the rest is coupled with the dispair, we all research solutions everflowing like the mouth of a waterfall; you'll see an amazon created among your thoughts just to understand it—God even only knows why. //i'll wait here in the efflorescence where the rules are different to see the divide between where we are and where we could have been, jest with me among the stars don't you wish, even one time? delve it into the pier so that it sinks a bit into that engulfed ocean of thoughts what do i even mean by saying such things? i couldn't know.

(the winds blew, blew like an arrow either forward, or back never true with the icy cold bears its weight like a glacier exhibiting its glory again blew, several colds approach don't we know.)

"up into the better parts of space" (07/16/25)

[vormov]

(untitled) part 2

id love more knowledge than the context, but that's not how the world works or how to integrate the things you suggest; i'll never know all these answers detail them at the ends of the worlds a tide we all cannot predict. it just sits up there unstoppable

maybe it was the way we did things, or sang our songs, maybe too loud again these things explain everything, nevermore we'd see the shoreline as if everything we knew below the sea was a victim to the tides, grow as they might for they can't see error like we can, let them do their magic…

its all a matter of perception, really the eyes have seen it all again, like a cycle repeated ad infinitum we'll sing these praises, can't really help it can't even get a measure of the winds that proceed against just, a headwind diving below the horizon; never go too low i'll see where you showed me; even with my dying breath i'll hollow a quite big scene if you'd let me do this… gentle giant, sleep; gate yourself to the horizon and heave.

and i'd love to understand what it means like what did those cryptic winds hear in me when i sang my peace, lessons learned again the hard way; if only i'd listen and again i'd learn to love the skies that i have dreamt of the wonders i once thought of like these things we could leave behind; birdbrained.

i'll always be a turmoil in your airstrip, let me help you go up into the dividing winds that blow fucking cold; you know. and i'll always be there with the winds last words entombed on me like a tattoo or a figure of destiny, let them sing. oh let them sing out for our faith or even attempt to measure it, i was never sure of where all of this was all going.

a motion of sequence, like the right way, poured forth, just denial that you can be a vessel of the divine, oh ye of little faith. you already pour forth the words like a fountain and it cannot be turned off//and i'd spend the next fathoms even understanding it, like i were to sweep the very edges off of this mountain we gaze at admiring the forte its summit becomes. i'll be right there somehow just lucky to be there

and forever we can peel back the various layers of reality, never to know where exactly we are, never to know truth nor lie like a bumpy patch that shook the various horizon's flame to ignite. and again we'll pour this same dumb fortune into it, a simple gaze towards the future, like we gave up everything for nothing; donations like furnishing the echoes. ("In silence, we will remain")

(07/10/25—this is less than halfway through, so we are among this web of time, or whatever you think it is. Don't fear that specific unknown—for it tells us just what we want to know.)

[vormov]

(untitled) part 1

i've lived a thousand lives before this one, the fact you can't be patient, even for a moment, is worrisome enough much less the plague of darkness that surrounds you, but i know that you can make it out alive. ***

how did you do that? draw lines in the skies like a laser and cutting through all the noise; drain the stars of their measure it'll just grow back the next night, (even brighter) allow yourself to breathe for just one fucking second/ each benchmark is my best yet. i'm just so lucky to be here

a humbling you felt earlier, the liars at work gaining nothing but kitchen-tongues fail their little test and you'll be seeing yourself out, guaranteed to placate yourself, and a welcoming to paradise proceeds. "hold up, bud, it's only the third song? why so sentimental?"

each moment lives in the inbetweens, like how sound carries on belined all the corridors with the noise you can't escape it a gulf, an ocean, lost yourself again, i'll just go. (07-02-25—this is probably a series or something, i have no idea, why did you ask me that?)