Weight of The Cosmos

  Soul desire frequently relocates when recollection of times forgotten begin anew.  A man in a black hat wears a matching coat and questions my existence, passively.  How can I show He is of existence?

  Unless, this is getting caught up in thoughts that accompany no man, and it is relayed as glad.  Now, there is something, for my tea is ready.  Living haphazardly in the quiet night denotes new security in the pristine solitude that has stumbled upon all life.

  This is not to say it's overbearing, just more than was thought to wait.

A Cup of Coffee

  My hand doesn't stop shaking.  The morning has long gone and I continue to absorb the soft memories that rest in my bed.  When did things get so lost?  I can't remember the lost days of life when I knew where I was going.  Now, it seems the secret is no one knows where they are going.

  One cup, and it gets clearer where someone should fit in the world: it's all desire!  If you can follow a heart then you have it made, man.  It's like finding a destiny or something, ya digg?  Of course this action is only worth taking if it fits under certain pre-determined contract of interest in which you make sure never to go out of bounds.  But the bounds aren't exactly the same as boundaries, man; They're just there to make sure the MAN doesn't kick you out of what your heart desires.

  Two cups: what was I thinking?  Following different boundaries led me nowhere but being bound.  A contract of the mind contrasts with the contact of a contradiction bound throughout in submission of a wild out-of-control decision, or it's just immature.  Either way, it makes no difference to me, and that's all that matters in the end.

  Third cup, and the world opens up.  No more slant rhymes to a different time where there never has been a revelation or an elevation to soaring heights of intrusive visions.  Those soft memories are the only things that keep things at arms reach.  Never having to commit to anything leaves one completely open to anything.  But is that floating?  Does it matter?  Who is counting anyway?  Am I just wander-wondering for the sake of a passage of time?

  Yes, and no.  The indecision is the act of life itself.  These inversely positive remarks that make heads spin mean nothing.  In the end, there is only a perpetual change that can not be understood or captured.  This act of waking up in the morning is nothing other than experiencing all life at once, and never realizing that this is life after all.  Rest easy on the soft thoughts of memories of yesterday's that will no longer present their blissful weight before our tired eyes.  Now is the time to live once and for all.

  Still, my hand keeps shaking.  I'll just drink quietly.  There is more meaning in sitting still with a cup in hand then can ever be expressed.  Everyone could feel the way this feels, but it seems out of reach.  They seem too wrapped up in finding out where they are going, and still never find the answer.  My regards go out to the lost travelers, I should pass a thought over you in my morning routine.

Tasteless Thoughts

  Recession into the lofty inspiration of all things yields a new reading of self-sacrifice that craves more attention than I dare to present.  Craft-work in the Devil's hand is unbound through endless taunts felt through my spine.  Inspiration runs deep in my thoughts and extends in the drippings of sold souls.  An image of an idea beyond conception is all that appears.  So, it will be described in full detail:

  A white desk door presents an answer that is lukewarm in taste.  Our head is turned as a struggle shows, between a cat and a mouse.  The mouse is determined to manipulate the cat, which has fallen in love with the mouse.   This creates confusion on the kitchen-top dance-floor that is used to scribe their actions through parliament.  Nevertheless, their eyes widen when the answer spills gently into their minds.  Then, great disappointment follows the grave, where there is but only a gray toned woman quietly weeping for the loss of the question.

  And, eternity is to blame for the cursed causes of the end to all strife.  Yet, with the bitterly sour milk that comrade cat and mouse both gently suckle, there is something.

あした (Tomorrow)

  I, am disguised by a mask in a darker shade of red than has ever been seen by man or Beast (not to say there's a clear distinction these days).  The lasting lingered drought of a DAY that will NEVER arrive is all I see.  The strife of two melodies acting out on one instrument; the chaos of hope; the Audacity of high fidelity.  I can't hear you now, and there's a fog this morning.  Knockin' on your door leaves the spare change stolen again!

  "Doctor, Doctor!  Heal my soul!"

  A woman can take any shape for the traveled path, but who wanders in these dangerous days?  It's so damn bloody my eyes are red with envy and green for desire- meta-metaphors mocking... Nay, mimicking the minor mirror whose mind melts merely with the mention of the sublime.

  "Don't lose your mind just yet, it's not even noon."

  So, in a whisky haze the doctors work through their pain, but my mind's exposed thought just Bleeds.  Every night the screams of pain grow louder with the fluxed inaction.  loving Narcissism and bastard Children bring me to tears when their souls are exposed and there is Nothing.

  "Fatalistic mimes...  They can't speak their hearts desire."

  And that's why I weep.  Nothing is ever said.  Who needs to, the heroine is strong enough to drown anybody.

Auxiliary

  On that day, there were no boundaries.  All moments within all grasps.  I stood firmly beneath myself.  Excitement of all the many things was overwhelmed by the profound Nature of existence.

  But now...  The solemn clock continues to tick away the shadowed moment.  As I lay quietly, this is all present.  Any moments chance may apply to the next scenario; in fact, it seems to be automatic (self-referenced or not).

  But now..  I can feel the age of youth creeping up on my young bones.  The aches of contradictions and melodramas that consumes economies like Nothing else.

  Still, while all this remains meaningless, it came on that day, and it is what is.

Fading Star

How long can the twilight sing my lonely song. Grassy knoll of elder's yore leads me to a faithful conclusion. I belong to this place and the daunting tasks being shone in the cosmic letters of life tell truths that briefly show Truth.

The waves of nothing that plague my liberation are but temporary statuses in the self-evolving existence of the 'morrow. Besides, I smell the fresh grass beneath my worn feet and blush with joyous nostalgia. The entire universe is dancing, and I have the privilege of witnessing an event.

The expanse nature of this field of time drums on with the drunkards philosophy: the politicians agenda. If their promise is not withheld than it is empty. The air is filled with the treason of thoughts. Blasphemy repents; Now is here.

Take my hand. Our life's too short to be caught up in eternity. Open hearts can reflect our time. Embrace existence. Live while there's still life. Don't let the 'morrow cast a shadow upon all hope. Remember: home is not just a ghost.

Salted Soul

The sea gazed quietly in my twilight. The salty mist breathing from the old smells reminds me of home... And my love is lost with the sea. A sun lightly squeezing orange greens and pinks from the lonesome sky. Pale sails and an empty stomach are my only escapes from the bleak night, but the stars guide my thought.

Endless days adrift leave the lonely sailors heart astray. It begins to be a sail itself, merely blowing with the wind, and at times, impossible to harness.

This body is weary. She's just a star in the cosmos, and I'm no Cosmonaut... Besides politics do nothing for me.

But in your eyes I fail to stay adrift longer than your soul. The darkness plays tricks on this wretched mind of mine. The cool breeze calms the warm water. I can open my heart to the expanse: Love the eternal night and harness the moon...

Tonight I stay focused in my drift. The wind can take anyone home! Just don't be a soul forever lost as I.