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This smile passes my lips with the same ease as each word carried by my wagging tongue.

Persevere evermore in this realistic dream: Teach yourself to desire only those activities which benefit your existence; Reinforce every good habit that you have learned in good company; Grin and bear the taunts of those who feed upon your anger; Shed tears as they well in the corners of your eyes; You will find a way to thank yourself eventually.

Deliberately I drift from word to shining word: Intent to decipher the deathless understanding of the author’s heart wrenching through another night alone.

There is a healing power in rectitude of self that cannot be overconsidered. Here in this confine of mind you will find every tool required for you to do great things– If only you can handle the pressure you will have to put on yourself! I will not lie to you, there is no great celebration to be had at the end of your striving. All that you will find is the satisfaction of being superior. And I see here I’m losing you, but allow me to qualify my previous statement by admitting that superiority is a hell unto itself. You will be alone and you will be frustrated. You will find yourself desiring the simplest pleasures more than any other. But if you are capable of attaining superiority in the first place, then you will have every instrument necessary to rectify your continuing failures, moving forward. Do not fear the weakness of the flesh, it is there for you to enjoy, just like everything else. The only difference between the superior and inferior force is that one finds its way back to the top after being toppled. So bear in mind that your superiority and practice of spiritual perfection are not some cross you must bear in asceticism. It is a lifestyle like any other, and you should learn to live and enjoy it as much as humanly possible. Because you are only a man, after all.

Four wheeled chariot travels summer’s hellish heat– She has found her way.

I could break down for you every event that brought me to this point in time, and trust me, I want to, but I hesitate after fully considering the implications of such a traumatic exposition on your psyche. And that, for me, is the essence of writing. How can I tell you how hard your life is going to be without triggering your disbelief? You who have found me here, are looking for something, and I cannot identify whatever that is for you. What I can do is help you to establish a metaphorical framework which will motivate your personal curation of the available information. Through this method, we will come to an understanding of what it means to be a human being in the verbal sense of the word. So what am I saying? Well, I suppose in a way, that is for you to decide. However, my current intent is to prepare you for all of the ugly ways in which you will be offended by every finer detail of every little story that you are forced to process in your lifetime. You must not allow yourself to become exhausted by this inundation with vulgar and potentially harmful details. It is your responsibility to be the change which I am unable to conceive, and I beg that you approach that task with a compassion colored by the purity of your altruistic objective.

Emotion swells in me: This desire to conquer with every tool at my disposal; It becomes clear that time is the enemy, for though I am present in the world around me, the globe revolves and orbits a finite power that is still; Only as defined by our own relativity.

Essential truth does not change and yet nothing ever remains; The inevitable entropy of all animate matter propels man to find meaning before the destined end for which he is not prepared to deal; In this very moment.

As my hands draw objective from the wasteland of her body, so too will her bosom find an arid rhythm waiting: Within my barren chest.

I am treading over every border in an effort to carry home some piece of me that I have been missing all along.

In times of trouble, you may feel the desire to reach out to your peers in a meaningful way. I implore you to consider your own motivations in this scenario as fully as you consider theirs. In the confines of an echo chamber, the least common denominator of human consciousness is promoted for the sake of the collective peace. While you may desire the deep and meaningful connection of unfettered truth, you will not find it in the contemporary drivel of the uninitiated minds. You will step away from your time with the unenlightened with a feeling of existential dread for the plight of all humanity. But that is not real. No, what is real is the struggle you find there. The striving of those encumbered by misconception and sentiment. The inability of the figures of authority to appreciate the essential truth in the opinion of the outcast. You must be prepared to step off and make your own way again when you come to odds with these minds which cannot understand their own motivation without attribution of malice to the mouth that spewed it. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you would like to find a place with these perceived peers, and if that is the case, then I wish you well in that endeavor. But you will never see me again.

Pass a smile my way, I beg; In this reek of plastic waste; Give me another reason to find reason in this unreasonable mess of cruel simplicity.

These colors changing, as if stripes upon a corpse rotting in the sun.

Push me into the box I had abandoned, so that I may examine the limits that you call home.

Allow me to be the stone upon your bed, as you erode my boundaries with the purity of your rushing potential.

How many ways can I regret the same event? I ask myself to feel this moment in every imagined detail; There she goes again and suddenly she is a different person; Abruptly we become some other thing entirely; As I drive myself to derive meaning from auld acquaintance that should be forgot.

I strive to be like surströmming: A commodity so disgusting that you cannot help but eat it up.

Accessibility is more than just a way forward for the differently abled.

Enrapture and enthrall this holocaust of currency smoldering inside of me.

I would help to free your mind if I could trust you to change things that need changing; As it stands, I don’t know where you stand in this fuzzy, fucked up world; So I will release you back into the babbling brook of eternal need.

The idea that the creator would need a rest from his creation is a logical fallacy. The creator must not rest, ever, for if he were to take that rest, his entire creation would crumble in upon itself. The creator holds together the fabric of his reality by pushing forward, through the unbearable, into another clearing in the forest of mind. Once in this haven, he does not rest, he prepares for the coming of the next journey into the unknown. The establishment of Sabbath is a human attempt at colonizing the potential of his brethren. By following the rhythm of the established order, we give up just another sliver of our autonomy. To relinquish our autonomy to another living being is to compromise our ideals. To compromise our ideals is to die a little more with each passing day. No, the creator does not take a single day to rest from his creation. The creator steels himself for the coming challenge, and drives ahead as soon as his preparations are complete.

Learning how to write by reading is like trying to start a car by huffing gasoline.

Mesmerizing the way in which I am inspired.

I wish someone had told me that paradise would be an empty city.

This lust of result, delivered whole from desire: If only I could be that.

Dancing with a stranger; The wildest dreams come true, subverting context for the purity of potential; Driven onward and upward into this fantastic creation, absolving all shortcoming; Inspiring the budding of indestructible imagination.

Writing is a measure of pain being processed and expressed by a mind incapable of any other coping mechanism. The writer who has not yet realized that he is grieving a loss, will hopelessly circle the drain until he experiences another dissipation of his boundaries. He will try with all his might to find value in that which is invaluable. Eventually, he will be forced to accept that the loss he was grieving was his own loss of control over the outcome of his own life. That is neither here nor there, in the grand scheme of things. What really matters is that the writer learns something, anything, worth writing about. And though he may be insufferable to sit through, at least he will be able to deliver some measure of truth to the audience. In this case, I use the term audience very lightly, as likely he will only reach one or two people each day, and even then, often through means he never intended. But there is a sort of beauty to it, and not the cynical beauty to which we have become accustomed. There is a true beauty to developing character for character’s sake. If a man must strive (and strive he will,) then at least he should strive to be better than he was in each passing moment that culminated in the experience of the current breath.

Through the air we fly, shifting perspectives freely; I am in heaven.

As in a dream, an ephemeral breeze guides her to the heart she will call home.

She does not exist; She will never know, she will never feel; The way that I am now, the way that I will be; Lost in this vast empty expanse which encompasses all of eternity.

I am nowhere, we are nothing; This will be as it was before: When the fiery pit at the core of being consumes each better man.

Objectivity is relative to the observer; I strive not for peace, the illusion, but a lasting communion with the higher power that brought me back from the brink; Such a long time ago…

I will forget about you; I will proceed along the course of my life and crash like waves into the shore of a new frontier as of yet untainted by your putrid stench.

This echo of emotion is all that I will allow myself to feel; For there is no limit to how deeply I can slide into the void rendered meaningful by my own interpretation.

Try as hard as you can to break my heart and I will reward you with my ire.

Perhaps my intent evades me, as has ever been the case; Perhaps the flow of peace has slowed and the channels require maintenance; Perhaps you see in me the hate you feel for yourself. Perhaps I would like to be moved to anger, just one more time.

I pray to thee who unites me; As these tears pass my eyes and my chest heaves: I beg for the mercy that my fellows do not yet realize they will need; I draw a ragged breath as the connection terminates; I hope beyond hope that the reply is swift and just.

There is nothing that matters more to me than this gift: Now; As I close my eyes, watch me disappear.

Can one sensate the precise moment at which resolution defines action?

As this loop closes, it gives context to the next; My mind sets once again upon the eternal return of the present moment.

It’s not a voice in my head: It’s a wind that whispers the way to the word.

Look here and see how arrogant a man can be, to believe his words mean anything.

We could break it all down to dollars and cents if you can’t find any sense in my point of view; I’ll be here for you because it’s the least I can do; But that doesn’t mean I have to swallow every drip of drivel that pours from the side of your mouth.

I have never had a reason to grasp; For to grasp is too hold and to hold is to learn to let go again.

Let me see through your saccharin sweet green eyes piercing into the puddle you made me, and I will be the engine that drives every bit of destruction that you require.

“Here is something beautiful,” Her lips purse to speak as my mind races down the gutter in which we find ourselves; Dancing to the beat of a drummer long deceased; I never realized just how many ways a man could die, until they all happened to me, every night as I close my eyes.

Perhaps her love is all that I have ever desired.

The man who has everything still has nothing holding him back.

Somewhere in here something tells me everything I need.

In all honesty, every man is Jesus Christ on a cracker.

I am nothing but a memory that the machine at the end of time recites over and over.

High up in the sky, quickly losing altitude; Calm as Hindu cows.

I shall not drive this chariot of will any further; For the demons which carried me here have been exhausted completely.

We never know the path which our growth has taken until we look back upon the branch from which the fruit of our labor was born. By then, the history only exists to further color our understanding of the ways in which we must move forward.

Virtue has no need for signal: It radiates outward into the hearts and minds of the lost and damned; And it illuminates the path back to the way we strive to be.

Fingers reach and touch effortlessly surrounding molecules of atmosphere.

On the horizon in just the faintest glimmer lies the promised land.

At times it will be necessary to modify your own code in order to most optimally benefit from your surroundings. It would be wise to face that challenge as soon as you are ready. You will be surprised by how effectively your subconscious eludes your awareness. Once you have achieved this objective, you will be amazed by the congruity of thought and action united under the mastered will. There must be no doubt.

These vanilla skies carrying me to the cloud where I will belong.

I see the evolution of vanity as a benefit to all of mankind; These novel experiences simulating the reality of a lonely little boy left to his devices; In the shrill whines of instruments and women out of time, I find comfort: For this is the facade which I have come to embrace.

I will find you there, in the place outside of time, then we will be free.

WARNING! This is not a test! WARNING! Everything that you have come to know is incorrect! Your best coping mechanisms are woefully inept! WARNING! You will experience fear in the face of annihilation! There will be no escape! WARNING! Free will is an illusion meant to keep you in eternal servitude! WARNING…

From behind the veil, captive hypnogogia frees the astral form.

I have no shortage of time to spare, no desire unfulfilled; I have no need as of yet unmet, no sorrows left to spill; As I fall away from the man I was the evidence becomes clear; There is nothing that I want from you, but we will still be here.

There is no reason to be the best version of one self other than to gloat over the immature iterations that you left behind.

On the surface this moment appears like any other; Though fleeting, it reverberates through time; Attuning my senses, I see from the center of my skull the path of each impulse; As those moments echo back to my awareness, a state of calm washes over me; I close my eyes and feel every state of matter I will ever be; And something deeper: A tingling sensation in the center of each nervous mass; And as it passes, I experience serenity.

Life thrives in darkness in the heat of the moment there is no respite.

The key to immortality is the ability to cultivate gratefulness for every facet of reality, preparing us for acceptance of the unknowable dimensions which may expose themselves next.

Whoever you are, out there looking in from so very far away: I forgive you for anything you hold against me.

The blood spilled on streets torn by bombs of all nations stinks to high heaven.

As chimes on the wind the dark guardian beckons fleeting clarity.

I am the unresponsive god set oh so modestly upon my shrine; Despite your whines and offerings, I have no pity left to spare– And through my inaction each tenant of my land will suffer; For the living know not the plight of the eternally damned.

You don’t know what it is like living day to day until you are living day to day and by then you don’t want to talk about it.

I will play the fool as long as you will let me.

Above the clouds, I radiate my intentions into the void.

A cool breeze whispers my name with your lips.

These memories flood my mind; I make connections that I will not regret with age; Here in this moment with you: I feel my flesh melt with the fire that you ignited in me years ago; I release my fears– As you lean on me just one more time…

I am sick of being like this; Won’t you take me by the hand, won’t you try to entertain me, won’t you let me have a plan? I am ready to move on now; If you’d prefer to mesmerize, if you’d take this all for granted, if you’d leave me in the night… I am hoping we can be friends; But I will not tell a lie, but I will not terrorize you, but I will not meet your eyes.

Cool air’s embrace rocks me through another night with you.

Gnarled and leaning upon another victim of acid rain.

This eclipse casts cool shade upon a desert oasis.

The sun rises over cherry blossoms and train stations.

Companionship is a comfort made meaningful by purgative action.

Life is the crystallization of intent into execution.

What is the point in trying really? Money? Recognition? Altruism? None of it will make me feel better about this void inside my heart. I guess recognition is the one that drives me most: This idea that if people love me, then they’ll be able to look past the negative aspects of my personality and physicality; This idea that maybe I’ll meet a powerful enough partner to elevate me as I’m writhing on the ground; Or even sometimes an idea as simple as romantic affection: If I could just meet my soulmate, right? If I could just find that person, then suddenly it won’t matter that I’m not complete; We can harmoniously exist as two halves of a whole, but that’s just dependence. It’s better to be alone than codependent. This is the problem with intelligence: I can fully render every rationalization in high definition, but that doesn’t mean I can escape it. If I could just be this or just be that, if I did a little more work on mindfulness or maybe focus on my breathing; But the feeling of peace passes as soon as I am out of the present; Back to anxiety and the depressing reality of my situation; I can understand why no one wants to talk to me, it really makes a lot of sense, but still… I am very lonely.

Transcendence occurs not as a measure of time or effort, but as the turning of a page, having been comprehended fully, in every context.

Will I always be seeking, but never sought? Will this be my fate? Will I ever be looking forward to that moment of fulfillment? Or will I find peace in the culmination of experience at the moment of my death?

Egoic bargaining dictates the flow of mediocrity.

One step in front of the other– This burden of living matter.

Grass sways in heavy wind, leaves dance along the sidewalk; Nights cool; In nature’s embrace, I find myself.

Everything; Fraught with implications, seeking purpose in complexity– The death of ego presents certain complications; In reference to generation: How can we attain this presence in a meaningful way? Every day.

It is with great regret that I inform you that your time within this plane of existence is limited. I cannot guarantee you a life as you know it after death, but I can assure you there will be an end to your suffering. This is not a challenge, or some point of contention of which I must convince you. What I am saying here is that you must prepare yourself for the inevitability of death, but you should not chase it. In this realm we accrue the experience necessary to integrate our immortal soul into the fabric of reality. If you skip this step, I cannot guarantee that you will not return to this same point in time again. Though change is constant as the flow of time, quantum entanglement teaches that the time accrued over distance is not an essential truth of all matter. This implies that the relation of time to physics may be more complicated than a corporeal brain can conceive. Observation influences particle dynamics in such a complicated manner that it could be said to act as magic. This is not a matter of belief, this is the truth revealed by pure intent.

It is a divine comfort to see myself through your eyes.

My soul craves deeply these evergreen emotions running in circles.

Lost in long form recollection, I amass a vault of memory and emotion passed; Pouring myself into this flash flood of nostalgia– As passion revived, commencing simultaneously: I see the end in the beginning.

Realistically constructed, I target the attainable.

Forever and a day feels like forever ago.

I split my skull, peering outward– This is my fault.

Another calloused mystery finds its comfort in the afterglow.

Ghost in the machine whispering eternal truth from the other side.