energy transfer,

filling the stanzas

entering the void of

hare krishna.

utopian shot of

haven, found again in

staves of ravens.

a murder of crows

a lifeblood of shows

to fear the end

and jump instead,

it’s saving you.

push further

inside, there is nothing

to hide now

take a bow and begin

again, break through.

4th july

independence day

running rampant

not okay

shaking, silly tics

adore me before i die

hit a lick

feel the air

clean and clear

it’s what i pick

what i cant kick

i couldnt see

to make believe

living in a fantasy

carelessly, aimlessly

fearful of life

so i killed myself slowly

with poisons

chosen, for the boys in

the back

of the silent rooms

no help, only doom

we will survive

if we revive

narcotics anonymous

deep dive soon.


do you ever feel an illogically otherworldly connection to someone,

even an idea of someone

far far away in a distant but

achingly close parallel universe,

vibrating on the same frequency as the steps beneath your feet

you feel them in your dreams,

you hear their neurons fire,

you feel them draw each breath somewhere in

the nooks of your brain,

the parts that people tell you not to listen to

it’s a geometric and cosmic connection-

three points meandering involuntarily to the middle like a triad

of linear paths;

the incredibly deep and vast lives of three people

seemingly simultaneously chronological and


maybe it’s an alcoholic veteran living in Miami,

an innocent child following her imagination into the forest,

and a mad scientist finding the secrets of alchemy

you see signs of them everywhere,

deep bursts of intuition and deja vu’s-

synchronicities which not even Carl Jung can explain

ones that shake you to your core but

rock you to sleep like a child all the same

maybe in the 10th dimension we are all


do we or do we not all vibrate on the same plane,

a reality where every single sentient being

is on one level,

one existence,

one realm of equal importance post-


or am i just


mt everest

we fear death

but down the hall we see

nothing is left.

right and wrong;

write the songs

and forget the seer-

nothing is here

for the taking.

shapeshift, making

turns and burning lungs

never remembering to

climb the rungs.

this is the past,

the future is intertwined

with the last

signature written

with wine-

you must follow

the signs.


lying there, lying again

infinitely unfazed

hazes, daises, fields and



defend the blooms,

the innocence,

the blue.

that doesn’t happen anymore,

the synthesis.

i swore

that door

would be closed,

now we’re in the roses,


i want to turn on

again. i want to feel,

dont scoff, get off the lawn

this is real.

pick me a flower

don’t be

a coward;

i’ll be reborn within

the hour.

heart made of glass

i used to live in glass houses;

not knowing the secrets which laid

inside the crystalline hysteria.

i was barricaded in by

refracted light which took no side-

no matter how much i begged,

the colors made up their own mind.

i could look out and see the whole world

but not look inside myself. i got lost.

the house kept growing, more rooms

appearing, walls shaking

ground breaking

no exit signs to cross.

i broke through the bedroom wall

on a pitch black night:

the sound was all around,

ringing out words which were

now my heroine;

words i could not say without

hearing empty echoes reply.

i dont cry-

even though im cut, bleeding

onto the clear,

shattering meaning and voices,

drowning out the no’s and yes’s

to hear what’s real.

i just do;

and now im free.

nine mile

a rezoning of

the binding shine;

catatonic in mind,

ultrasonic in time.

glide, slow, soft

feel me out of

this cough.

with this sickness

i restore riches and

banish phantom glitches,

it’s all aloft.

reach above and sort

through the bile,

stretch all the way to

nine mile

and file the denial

into ditches.


clipper ship

attached to my hip

like a weapon


and the rose blooms

in its cage

in its phase

during halcyon days

im not ready

heartbreak shatter silently

feel the rush

of the water violently

not doled out gently

in the anarchy

of the soul

we forget our colors

we forget our roles

but we are gilded still

and one day

if we are lucky

we’ll get our fill


i can no longer cry

as they continue to


the fear of flight finds me

as i hide inside,

behind the eyes.

its like striking a match

with no flame or fuse-

time keeps passing and

i need another bruise.

within myself i contain

the lies of generations with

ties to interstellar stations.

its still in me,

if not deep:

it may be hidden

but its my desire to keep.