Sometimes all you have left is a pavlovian response.
Symbols come from beyond our recognition ,
and sometimes a dead bird is actually just a dead bird.
Somewhere between filling and full I sit back and
A simple word called simplicity framing a larger than me
rose. I let the rose fill me up. Imagining what your body
movements did to make those marks.
Sew yourself with a golden thread, and hold on tight.
Because when you have realized the meaning of life
but can’t obtain it, you’re in for a ride.
Layer, pattern, space, line texture, texture, and repeat.
And then wait for nothing and everything at the same time.
Phantasmagorically speaking the orgasmic sounds of vision
and a two toned hierarchy etched with intent and reflective of shadow.
And just like Yoko said, “Someday we’ll evaporate together.”
Sometimes things are always out of control. And sometimes
it feels like a cosmic joke. You joke, “honey, life is a cosmic joke.”
And I love you, even though we don’t belong together.
And when you need a hug, but no one’s around...
give it up , give it up to the ground.
But then a distance washes over, creating parasitic thoughts of longing.
Liquid lights wash and weigh on until release.
And here is one of the two. The two has passed. the two is the blue ink’s past.
And when you know what the most important thing in life is ,
and reach for it, and then reach again, now again but harder…yet fall short,
then what do you do?
How do you obtain instead of drool?