The Universe Perspective

  Where do thou be? Thine look so glee. Bountiful, yet he couldn't see. Triggered was thee. Disrespectful to thine POC. Grouchy, thine white savior and his noble steed. Breaking our backs, There came thine wealth tax, Yet wouldn't bring it back to thee. Cramped and unable, The steed's filled stable, Blowing back as he saw the clouds leave. Right as thine morning blew out, Thine kitchen and storage out of sauerkraut, Blinking the topics believed. You're once more on top, Wealth inequality must STOP, You're forced to slave away to be "free". Breakfast time young ward. Defeat this wretched evil, liberal, use thine sword! Dancing in thine plentiful, capitalist, jubilee. Protect thine young? Why thine evil has thou sprung? Pedophilicly rampant, and no detective decree. Epstein and his juice, The last remaining spruce, Trees were planted by his seed. Hath thou understood now? Perhaps it is thee, without a doubt, Protecting thine discrepancy.

Symbols, distance, far away was he. Candles lit, on him a hit, boring was the wait alone. Great was the day. Lovely was the night. Day after day, instances of fear in his operations. Signaling the new world, constructed with rickety wood, nails bent to the surface, and tape around his mind keeping it locked behind regulation. Crushed was his soul, the day after his mother's death was the day he would have regretted being so closed. Being open wasn't an option. It wasn't there when he looked to the right as his soul danced to the song of the world, he lay his head down in shame. Abused by his own head, giving, after all, his life away to the majestic taunts of skulls and crushing bones, he lay on his back looking to the ceiling. "How does life accrue in such deadly ways?" , he would ask himself. The answer lies before him, but he hadn't wanted to face it. Creamy suds, the midnight duds, and creating a distant world for himself, passing out with his

My precious one, That lies in the darkness of the sun, I fear, there's nothing I can do for you. I've remembered your cries, I don't know which ones are lies, I can't seem to see the real you. We can't look back, I can't bear to see your eyes sad, I will fall victim to the blue. Green swaths pave the road to your soul, My brain, and my heart have taken a toll, Precious one, do you bid ado? No more lying; Let's live with the stress. I know this relationship was once blessed, But now, its tainted. Our minds were once painted with swerved willow trees, And all of their dancing leaves were connected through one branch. And at that time, we had beautiful visions of having our own ranch, But these were all lost to the moon. "There are things you don't know about me", she said, And together, we split the last of our bread, As she tipped her flowers upon her head, "goodbye". I sat there, listening to the crunches of the roadside, Watching her

 Some will say the day comes and goes, And some will be caught in its glory, or even its deadliness. Days will go by either way, whether you long for a better tomorrow, you have that better tomorrow, or you are nihilistic. At some point, the recognition of your stay isn't enough, and you will disappear into unwatedness. And then you will even have thoughts destroyed of your being. Wishful thinking breeds your mind, your will, your want of virtue, and even your love. But this wishful thinking, although it's your essence, is completely disregarded. Sometimes there will be points in your life in which destiny has no direction. Those points define your desires. Those points are really sharpening you, as an individual. If matter is you, you won't be alive in matter. Consciousness is not real, you are simply too difficult to be alive. And yes, you won't be you anymore.

The dusk is to the Dawn  As the crowns to the peasants, There lived a full girl on the top of Mount Pleasant. So refined and drooled, Her waist was all full, She sat on her stool Awaiting a tool And from the tool She would grasp the meaning, And the voices in her head would not be demeaning Before the rooster crowed And the morning cow huffed, The girl took a deep breath and out came a puff And the puff blew her voice to the store And the voice was heard from the first floor And the sound echoed back from the door "Woe is me, the holiest of whores."

 Reconvening, in and out of reality, was a single man's thought. Oh, how this man was confused... There seemed to be pearls in his eyes one moment, and the next he were to be in a not-so-lovely place. Things just happened around him. Thoughts were splashing on a canvas in his mind. People from different corners of his social group gathered as he entered a new reality. Piles upon piles of emotions developed in a single notion. And then poof, feeling still remaining, but experience readjusting for a different life. And suddenly, sitting again here comes the unreal, doubts crossed his mind as he rose to the tower tops of the world. The only thing he had to blame was everyone and everything. He hated all as he put all of his twigs of doubt, reluctance, hatred, annoyance, guilt, deceit, and evil all bundled up next to a stone of his root. He burned this pile of twigs, and watched as they manifested in hallucinations of different times and places. In one eye, he saw his father suffering,