All in time.

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Gardenia Augusta.

I awake. Who Am I. Who brought me here. why are we here. What is the purpose of life. I sit in silence and listen to this voice of mine and the hazy notion of reality ive set in motion. I dissected and abandoned the one that they have build from someone else's profitable dream .I'm builing with heart and stone my pure uninteruppted consciousness of the seasons and what it floats away with infinite dimensions, though I see this age creaking to the dawn of a new age of planetary mind deceivers shifting our metabolisms of exploited love and disguised seductive addictions to alter our moods our feelings our wishes in myriad directions and to consume. They're leading us to consume, to chase the endless echo of a deadline and forget ourselves, consume, consume convincing me of what we need, and we need it now. We have forgotten what it means to wait for the truth, to reap what we sow, though I know what I need, they don't want to hear it. It came to me at the deliverance of midnight when my heart was wide open and it keeps me up at night, it consumed my own fear, then I conceived alternate solutions to the realities they create for us there behind our glowing screens absorbing into us, teaching us fear and hate. Intoxicating our eyes and ears governing what they want us to think. Enslaving us beneath our creature comforts. Enslaving us minds of slavery inside the new mislead technological age of progress and slowly narrowing and blunting our field of perception. We caged ourselves from fear and boundaries created to tear down. Were building the cages from what will set you free. We breed enslaved buy the misinterpretations of corrupted love, we buy media lies and the generation of ecstasy deceivers, spawn deranged unfertile children from narrowed ignorance off sexual impulse are endless thoughts that blossoms in my mind of a curious one hungry for adventure. My shadow of thought haunts to heavy to fight away. So I embrace it under my wing. It's become my greatest vice, my best friend. An empty threat to suggest I wont copulate to reproduce, because I understand it and when I don't have a mind of my own, the imagery in my mind was born first in the mind of another. I am a silent passenger this life, in the labyrinth of a quiet stream curious others have drifted down with imagery and dream for i am my senses absorbing the world with the music in my veins, the fire that feeds the flame. My anxiety close as a pillar of strength now, never forgetful of its tyranny in past days of dreadful rain against my cold window inside I sit feeling lethargic and thinking of my virtues steering me away from unwanted thoughts and opinions, while the whole world would sleep I would dread the thought of my lethargic ways and endless days of burdening desires or plans that end up in a pile if smoke in time and air with the music and ill sit and stare with my mind going round and round and round. Barely listening to the music. I wasn't listening to the sound because I was watching the girl across the way with the face I want to touch. Hair I want to hold. To watch the trees whisper in the wind with. The lips I desire to kiss. To wake before and watch sleep, to drift away with to a soft beat, To watch the first star, To stare up into the trees with, To feel the music on our bones to take me back to that place Ill always be, to remind me of things I seem to forget. I want to tell her something about herself she thinks she already knows I want to save her from herself, I want her to save me from myself then both sit in silence and dream. These Thoughts crash as just a manifestation of childhood dreams of superficial love. A torn quilt built on collaborative grotesque subtle gesture that capture our imaginations they perceive with galaxy eyes with a glance an actress in fermenting skin, like a still manikin polishing her porcelain moves there all flawless in there own little ways. The way they move, there hands, expressionless they speak the volumes of emotion and character as I catch myself trying to decipher them. I close my heavy eyes eternity through the heavy mist of cigarettes and murmurs cutting the electric air of a sexual mist. Their world silently intrigues. I catch myself silently falling into the eyes of there perspectives. There dissolutions of seductiveness and I relise the imperfection of it all. The collage of moments of past pretense flicker before my eyes. The void of decaying images I've silently absorbed that corrode my mind make believe she is the one for us. She's nothing more than a seductive love junky of webs of torn off exhausted hearts lingering in broken shadows she easily leaves behind. Vanity is the curse caught in the mirrors of lonely pretty girls that dig graves for weak humble hearts and I'm asking, What is your purpose here? to me its so artificial tonight, its your culture and repression and these unnatural stimulations that your lying eyes see all over the televisions and bacteria that's in the all air its all your surroundings and ill get walking again before this weighs on me. Were the product of our own demise, but were always so cynical and answers are trivial and biased. We have the true answers inside our hearts. And Inside our heads which are just the junctions and neon's firing between the axons and synoptic cliffs, when electrical signals reward you with emotion and electrical impulses and turns into chemical signals that beat when we dispose of through our language as movements and our optic nerves move as curious as our haunted minds and we read it as the visions perfected with love. My eyes could deceive me, and sometimes words I speak mislead me, they mislead when I capture them in the air and they don't belong to me, so I prefer silence as it corrupts no minds and nobody in the shadows of my own echo of mediocre conversation. I am forever craving to perceive and create my own white canvas of an imaginative silent wonder. Alone with pure consciousness and intent surrounded by the dead sky and Sea with the desperate vain behind my back. Were just like spiders spinning webs in desperate vein in the dark on a search for a yearning prophecy of satisfaction not questioning love. Were To love and be loved. A constant it binds to us like the fibers of light. Bounded buy the laws of the universe. It's why our hearts beat upon the ground to the reason we wake. Our intentions are to reproduce and replicate the emotions in ourselves living vicariously in the skin of our molded children. From the time the mirror got the best of me to when I held the mirrors eyes and the moon brought out the best in me. When the poison is racing across my chest and down my body. When I'm full of heavy blood and I'm paralyzed in the heat of testosterone and the moon is high and bright but its my lonesome erotica of masturbation that succumbs me and, that voice pleads to relive myself and ill feel complacent while masturbating to the foul intent that emerged so sinister over an desired infatuation that was me go the glory of the ego statistical mind we behold. It's the weakness of us all. I can't overcome my desire, and so I hate it because it imprisons my spirit. Were placing a heavy emphasis on the wrong love and were to busy persuading ourselves of its importance. So ill masturbate until I eventually ejaculate and sit quietly in the dark and conjure up a new projection in my head, though the more I think the less I know what to do, while my heart thumps heavy inside my chest and foul tastes creep in my mouth is irrelevant when I start to think of more consistent highs like compassion empathy, sincerity that eliminate the trangrissional state of infatuation with desire and lust, its routine so sheepishly scripted behind my closed eyes behind my back as reality fades away until chemicals race to balance themselves inside blue veins again. Though it was spirit that concord me , that now races inside my blue veins. I consider momentary highs that can be bought but I've become to humble for a cheap synthetic highs. So I choose to ride high on natural life energy. Common days like common songs are addictions like a reward, there momentary, their pure energy. There is energy all around. I'm teaching myself to perceive it. Absorb it. There's Times I contemplate and stare at the ceiling trying to think about the man behind these eyes becoming and smile. I caught these perfections and imperfections inside my retinas perificial vision dance for a moment dance with emotions inside me. But at the same time I cant concentrate having to draw upon my complacency and lonely stars like sand, so I decide to walk the streets and paths of blinding lights and dark paths to patiently investigate my delusions and illusions and search on, and hold the warm comforting hand of the mirrors we dream upon under midnight stars, staring deeply into his eyes. Watching emotions closely as they grow and I know how intimacy will make me feel. It's transparent though my delusion in its simplicity. Knowing about love absorbs thought while making us a little stronger while making us weaker as well. Nothing else compares or is seems more significant. The selfish ultimatum and final endeavors bestowed upon us here on this short stay. Is it the risky leap of love that brings just a selfish social endeavor were were silently compelled to seek while lying to the voice of truth? Will it bring us a satisfaction that satisfies and completes the patterns, and erase all the storms of tyranny and bitterness we relentlessly endure to create meaning? Does it satisfy the exile of death? There is little or nothing dramatic that draws my attention when I'm dead in the heat of testosterone. Though I watch it pleading for me to fornicate I stare emotionless inside a sympathetic silence. I watch the feeling come along and I'm not apart of it, its neurological impulse, its suggestive by atmosphere and time. It's living inside us all. My reflection haunts me in vivid dreams of loathing and pity, my reflection is governed by esteem and ego. I protest silently alone and walk the lonely silence lavender street as routine with the spiders casting there webs in the dark on a heavy moons and I masturbate systematically over recent infatuations and fall into dark oblivion and dream with the rain. Dreams are tests my subconscious plays out to see how I handle them, and try to break my illusions. After all it's the illusion of what our life should shape to be, were governed from the births our minds molded and controlled by the media, our ideas we go into life with have been suggested already. Born into the confides of a cellar door. An alien world where our dreams are bounded buy the world of someone else's creation. Spinning webs in desperate vain trying to find love in the dark, were the cold shadows of the dead we have met in dreams we silently forget in empty heads. My own thoughts and ones my eyes plant inside my head collide, creates the most elaborate dreams within other dreams. All my life I've been seeing visions in my mind of places that I've never been and I'm wondering how I remember that I've been there. I feel possessed by the seasons inside my head living and its filling me vicariously through my senses, buy an habitual animal that holsters in the shadows, there are our character our being. My body is holding my mind hostage, my spirit though my memories holding are me earthly. I cannot part from them. I dry to distant myself from memories that harbor the ache of loneliness and from ideals of life I once perceived meaningless. The endless cold stars shown down upon this heavy mind of curiosity on another countless night, and I was rewarded with another breath of life, another beat of love. These are my infatuations, my vice is just, my awareness of infinity, the consciousness. This thought is suppressing evermore toward delirium. Its the eyes behind the eyes, the hand behind the fingers does this lightning storm in my skull repent for sins I've have not committed, are these wicked chemicals dispensing themselves down curious blue trails of emotion at will through passages of these deliberations of perceived knowledge is impossible to gain if there is no experience so love and curiosity seeps through my skin. But im dreaming the dreams of fulfillment and ecstasy, and there is a silent gallery in my head of bursts of irregular unrealistic lights full burning neon ambition and insane propositions of which I've been taken over buy and surrender to. I admire the brutality and hostile air of greed, its cruel nature and how its dissolves and surrenders against the warm hum of compassion. I admire how the dim light of human spirit can light up and fight under the weight and blackness of life. Its human nature. The nature of the universe. I'm amused buy our frantic nature to believe we have control and direction of our fate and to be recognized for our exploits. This place is a prison for my conditioning mind. Between thoughts I wonder who I am, and who they're trying to create of me. Is this the real me? I'm asking walking at night with the trees dancing and spirits minding their own. I'm tired of faces and words so tonight and I'm surrendering to a progressive state of misanthropy, so again im declining into the shadows of silence where tonight my racing mind warms the bones inside me and my burning fist of rebellion casts a shadows of my desires and into the shadows my versatility lies the stench of rotting death of dementia and Alzheimer's and when organs go to sleep and bones start to give in with only cold veins holding them together, before serotonin pulses to rare pulsating rewards .Before my shadow catches up to me there's voices askin me what it going to be then in this life ?Before the cold halls of the dead sanitized citric solutions and lonely systematic suppers and testing the fragility of your memory, before dementia consumes and you forget your dreams. Like it means a thing to the screaming faster inpatient bleeding world , there toothless gums moaning a plea to exhaust and to die in peace, while the worlds bathing in oil. While new blood screams into the world, they fade into houses of corrupted paths of someone else's dreams and delusion. So Ask yourself what's it going to be then? before the death creeps up from within in the dead of night and sends you to an enternal sleepness and makes you soon wonder who you were though .I realized we are nobody, we are one single consciousness combined and the complexity of the horizon, and its mesmerizing aura of eternity demands my attention of these provoking dreams. In my dreams I can consume the sounds, the sounds that were born from the confusion and streets of wonder that you sung from your heart and that now sent warm waves down my spine. Lose the art inside me that's all around to swallow and radiate. The seeds of poetry inside me that I chose to grow from. I'm on the search for something more than salvation from the dark, and I'm finding he's inside myself not in a symbol or materials to idolize. Its mysterious enough to keep us guessing who's the mysterious identity that's created me under these stars tonight. It's a cycle that impenetrable its merciless grip is ahold of me tonight along with my anxiety over the future. I'm questioning these concepts of heaven and hell, the marriage of pain and the pleasures, im questioning love. The way opposites are the same thing looking toward the silent sky for answers. I've been tired of talking long ago so it time to give and watch Just watch. Look in awe. Dream for the truth of all truths. The resurrection of souls because the scriptures and religious paintings try to convince me of eternal life with conviction with Prosecution. It's a concept that tries to save people from sin, rebellion is in my blood its my spine for the day is the same song ive come to see is all I've got and today I'm going to give it all I've got so tonight high on drugs , We pass the time stealing chemicals from our spine and suppressing the thought in a clouds of smoke, not taking the time to count the cost, though living without regret. I want to hold what's going on inside my head tonight. The only times we can be real and shatter the tender hearts and anxiety in brothers minds when heavy words of love spill from our mouths. The way you pick me up and the ways you pull me down. There is no plan but I ride out on what I've been thinking lately and tie some knots and leave myself wide open and that swollen love that's cold and bitter when I'm coming down with no one warm to hold. The coldness tearing us open and revealing discrepancies to if were shallow or real. Believe no consequences of curiosity tonight I've found a way with subtle words, stale words from our dry ecstasy riddled mouths, tonight that will corrupt the space between my arms and say what was leaning on my mind waiting patiently to echo into the world. We haven't the time to incorporate these dreams into the real material world searching for polarities if I find the energy to questions things because its all so trivial, dreams and inspirations and potential in my spine seeping through my skin in between twilight and dawn I patiently sit and wait to die. Between the silence, between the sleeping state and awake I draw comparisons and prioritize. I can dream to my desire. I can become eternal life through acceptance. Dream an infinity of white ,light horizon. Dream of the Dream. Dream of what I depise to become and id watch inside there world. I sit in silence and watch there live. I pictured their lives quite clearly. Not troubled or phased buy the pull of adventure in there veins because there were afraid of dying. Of living. They were were created. Were taught everything and never learn a thing. They're to be upstanding pleasant mannered people and further citizens of the class elite. To be blindly and ignorant and carry on the heritage of commonness and order without significance. They would grow old and incessantly watching the seeds they sprawl manifest as they did into rely file according the unspoken languages and at the tether less sanitized end of self loathing and loneliness marry to the ache and desperation of superficial love, showering yourself with commodities of dissolution, that favored car, drinking till it crawls under your frail skin, making money. Your flavorless shell with wither and die with your heart having never to uncoil besides a dull aching wife you never knew and that you once convinced under cold lonely stars you were inseparable .You will be saddened though not missed buy those callous and heartless beings you aquatinted with. When you were obliged to. And there are pictures of your life upon the shelf. Fake smiles you carried along the way. Maybe I've been analyzing to much maybe I need to distract myself from burdens and create and box in a smaller reality that I can dissect and analyze for myself. Crowded places and faces are tireless and trying to capture their thoughts is as meaningless and vain as the people around me. So I Step from the coldness the light, the laughter slowly returns and that feeling subdues me for an instant, and I'm forced to stop and admire the people around me .Our insecurities, our delusions. With no amphetamines swirling through my veins I'm hollering underneath in admiration and my eyes swell with tears, for they are no more and no less of a person than I. These thoughts build and burn raging questions coming around screaming and burning me awake burning sex and death. Lonely insomnia got music he wants to share. My lonely insomnia. We've both have the worlds on our minds. My insomnia virtues hold my life in check until my death, off a tattered string to the ransom. There are these images of this and myself I'm in the middle. Singing and Smiling. There are images of places I've never seen. And there is a black and white video of a birds flying overhead in my dreams. I share my sleep with a thousand thoughts of curiosity and anxiety. Inks bleeding all night in my head, down my veins to the humble pages of pure intent, I write novellas franticly upon. To weary sleepless nights to ponder about life's wavering mind is so exhausting. Relieve me from this burden of thoughts that lingers like terminal cancers in the crowded spaces on my head with voices calling my name. How are these mere thoughts keeping me from peace. Lingering and fighting between fact and fiction, a colliding reality and dreams that keep me awake. There is distorted views of the world and burdens of lives that suffer and intercepting bad dreams like the tyranny of death. An insomniac depression of pointless death and destruction are consuming and the hardest to endure yet they harden the cavities and valves of my heart so no poison can enter. Prospects of death are not threating, though the imminent death others is an aching anxiety and i dwell upon it. Its keeping me awake again. Ill like to drown the worry in our minds and ease the pains in our aching knees and love though keep on despising the machines were so routinely loyal to until it grows to hatred and faces are haunting me because there living someone else's delusional dream, then I surrender and see through my own dissolutions and interoperate them with and pledge an whisper from the heart to myself and i drifted into an eternity of love darkness. I consume these routine infatuations with a thought of what a privilege its to breath and listen and see the sounds of life before it saps my energy and leaves me with heavy eyes and eventually i awaken, do these thoughts serve me a future discovery? Is this to harden with every setting sun? Is this surviving as a unwanted intruder wandering inside my soul until ill makes amends for the lust of life I've beheld so dear. Its it holding me ransom until I perceive everything my power to undo what we are becoming. Is this now the very voice that of my turbulent insomnia reckoning. Who's voice is that in my head? Who's curious to know? But again nothing but silence replies echo and my soul are singing in the foreground as well as whispers telling me to calm down, the anxiety and nausea, so then poems from the confusion blossom gracefully from cracks in the cement, reaching toward the sun. Now I've stumbled across in the dark when I've been sharp enough to capture it wondering vicariously beneath my eyes, under my skin of my finger tips is a thousands wandering thoughts screaming questions in the dark, black ink bleeding down my strings to the pages of my life bless me with more pure thoughts. Its hazy horizons and death again I dream with pendulums swinging under the cold breeze under silent pleas to me to fall and loose control of it all and fight fear and cheat death until my death. What thoughts does the darkness of wonder of a galaxy we cannot see beyond possess demand questions, when I'm trying to make sense of my own tiny little world. The myriad sense if clarity that blesses me I don't trust it unless it emerges from within. Not from my convinced senses. And dusk comes round again and my thoughts race on along with white lies I've been telling myself holding me together in breath and restless pupils firing in elation and revelations of my world are nothing but obscene, obscene and random pulses of clarity is flooding me of dreams and agility in my knees and elbows and in my mind in disguise as clarity is the calm between the waves. When the sun retracts and leaves me in the middle of the night with its cold blackened curse with no desires to sleep but burn and burn with anxiety creeping up my spine. Raise a child. Raise a child of your own, obey, obey the animal pleads tonight with its cold winds and no empathy for me. Negotiate through this jungle of blood and bone and choose an adequate partner and satisfy me and create a child. Not the courage to even look me eye to eye, so I write vulgar letters in the dark to the rapture of devils until the color of a new day evaporates heavy thoughts of the new world of neon lights and cities breathing lights up into the night sky and I'm wondering where were hiding, where stars are hiding tonight and where questions ride on forever into the space above. This place of intruding modern towers we call the world burden the weight of sad black vines of copper cables across and fading into the distance of black magic and below in tough layers of dead tar silently pulsating the blood infused together with a confusion of veins, blood, our blood, fuels this hungry growing monster. The waste we produce, falls beneath our feet and behind our backs, beneath the surface of the sea. The myth of progression is deceiving us, the machines are growing beneath our skin and are we all to blind to see it slowly numbing and weakening our senses. I want to shout our demise out to the world and I want to keep it all inside with my warm intentions an under the moonlight where everything sits still with me. I want to scream it out and write our eulogy on the dead white walls for all to swallow and attack there stale hearts. I want to say nothing for my motion cannot derail this machines hungry frivolous avenue. It can't derail the motion as it survives and works buy the endless powerful clock of beating love. Plan ahead for the new blood, plan for collapse. Plan the escape. I've had a heavy dream again. I'm running from something again. The sea is rising. It's the poetry in motion the demise before our eyes, soft blue sky cut across the eye with black copper bleeding heavy when its slices the sky and bleeds blood red and swells like dead bodies left to the seas. I'm sleepless as there is few peaks to concur anymore, when the new world man draws upon what's he creates for inside in a material world in all its glory and destruction we try to be civil, without the problems there is no profit were devour anything to survive it's the nature of the universe, were looking in all the wrong places for salvation with sore tired closed red eyes. I'm dreaming of the earth at virgin beginnings when there was hostile forests abundance with humble life but now the city streets runs foul with the stench of a thousand placentas of new born humans screaming for worthless causes and superficial love runs riot through the anarchy of emotions and the heart beats of the cities aspiring to delirium dreams in dark rooms with the warm glow of there screens on there faces. These demons keep me in a stale wonder. This weight corrupts my empathy. Auras and spirits in the night are past lives are twisting me under cruel spells to ponder over the cosmos, the moon. Exhausted and I start grieving for pointless dead and want to lay my heart and hand upon them and steal there pain. I wish to send a warm hum inside them and suffocate their loneliness and doubt. The grievance for tragedy thrills us, it's our emotion to abuse. I'm staring into the darkness tonight, staring in silent wonder and whispering asking for someone to tell me everything, for my creator to come forward at the cave where the spirits want to connect. There is a ruffled prayer in my pocket I wrote under the nights of a thousand restless nights asking questions to the night. Spirits are haunting me, blacks birds encroaching in my dreams. Could my spirit cruse my insomnia or send me some company so I can listen to the running stream with them and lay my thoughts upon them. Then ill have my sleeplessness forever cursed. Do I have to justify reason for its relentlessness pulse? Is it only the dreamers who believe there lives are a foreseen destiny and embrace our own discomforts as welcomed friends? It's appearing to me as a majestically silent wisdom that keeps me in awe and my neurological impulse firing. Prolonged periods of time helplessly awake. Tonight I'm shining the bright light of love upon my shameless faces of desire. Oh desire. Your just represent a figure of my anxiety and lust for exposure and curiosity for the world. You send me to inconsequential dreams and you help me gratify them buy making me document cosmic thoughts hurling and crashing randomly, these revelations are drip fed mysterious Poetic scriptures from the dead for the living to interpret and pass the time. Possibly trying to redeem yourself and punish me for the lonely nights I had nothing or nobody to lay my dreams softly upon, for holding the future to dearly and living inside imagination, not living between breaths of the my heart. Nobody has been where I'm going. What we both see is not the same. If you have felt, if you had seen what I have seen you would know what I mean, for I fear more that lies inside than all I see. Save me from myself. My eyes of wonder are taking to the shadows and something heavy and inquisitive is beyond me and slowly it's consuming me, beyond the earthly features of skins and blood, its intangible. Something euphoric and it empowers me beyond this material world. It's my mentality from which there strange thoughts arise and my venture is burdened buy the vast boundaries I've created in my head. I'm exploring subconsciously what I've always know. My voice is talking inside my head, safe and burning with me as warm flame in the womb, for spoken words are those of replicas of other voices .A translator of imagery and aggression and senseless philosophy of the dead. Silent realizations and epiphanies lost in translation and time. Dreams and validations corroding colliding inside me every day and night. This is justified scripture of my war, this heavy war im preparing to fight, and im singing at the top of my lungs through the noise of it all. We all play our part in history, we all end up just a memory. There is only me. There is only you. Only we remain .The past is dead. The saints, kings, thieves, warriors and the martyrs and shamans there's nobody but you. They played their part but there just a memory now. There all history. We all go down in a cloud of dust the value of the living is meaningless to them. Living to us it's everything. We have heavy hearts of desire and angst for satisfaction and to archive greatness within the confides of our own boundaries. Were programmed to progress and satisfy our physiological needs to survive and replenish our minds and strive to live the life we love with the ones we in your self, be yourself. None know how the story unravels, and who it was written buy, and hazy conclusions and apifinys that last the best part of a cold night walk home, but something tells me we live again. Though when were are alive nothing immediate happens. The settings change. People come into your life and leave. The music around you begins then comes to an end, crowds gather in the manic chemistry and energy to crawl silently with the crickets and cold 3am dew into there warm beds of vivid mysterious dreams of the night. Silence always follows noise. Noise creeps from the cold. There is never beginnings, never ends, we are never going anywhere though were always on the way, there we stare at the spaces we once were in time and re-evaluate and re-evaluate our lives in silent until we walk on again into time, where time was our enemy as well as our friend. Trying to understand that our enemies may become our friends, where our friends become our teaches, and our teaches become friends. The laughter snows ring silent in dead rooms of echo's and memories that burn red love, weakness to strengths, love and embrace and then just fades into the sea of another joyful memory. I capture salty tears in my eyes.I'm softly singing from new lungs, tapping to the beat of a new day with new blood and I feel a revolution inside my head, even its only momentary it means I'm looking in the right places. Stars never lied to me and from the time the mirror took the best from me to when the moon brought out the best in me, I always believed. I always changed but I always stayed the same. This reality is all so surreal you know and what these eyes of mine conspire silently under the timeless void is barely a reflection of my holy mirror that's reading truth beating from within us all and nothing misleading survives long unless we corrupt ourselves. I fear more that lies inside than all I see. Save me from myself. The road is long and uneasy ahead, the gears of the clocks are grinding, faster and faster, ticking and tears us along and pulls me to streets and I'm always trying to catch my breath and when I do I forget what it feels like to be silent and still. I walk alone. I will not compromise on authority for control. I walk alone. I walk in silence. Toward solitude between earth and me, earth and sky. Toward the warm hand of spirits, toward my destiny. I walk same dead end streets where nothing here changes, and the stale minds are analogy's of desert roads naked toward dark storms horizon in dreams where voices in my head constantly asking me, so what's it going be eh? Just let go. And I know but i keep silent and walk on. I walk in the sands of time in ancient winds past trees where my name was carved in have now grown over, past the faces inside me that I emerged from I walked past places and faces, past graves of dead lonely poets, past the survivors of life and time, past the gifted ones, Not knowing where I was going so I could venture down any curious path. Any path I desired. Im the history and the future of the world. I never waited in line. I'm seizing the day. I have nothing to loose. I hold my breath. I have nothing to loose. You have nothing to loose. You know everything you want to know. I hold my breath and try to dream inside a dream. I close my eyes and try to make my life till now flash before me with pictures and echo's of all the words I've ever spoke until now all echoing in my head, everyone I've ever met passing me oblivious through the corridor with the warm soft afternoon light smiling on them all and laughing with each other, standing in the sun, sun on my back and contempt standing on a mountain top asking myself how did I get here and who's hands do these belong to until the sun splits the clouds a chill falls down my spine and ignites my spirit deep into the night where I scream to a million lonely stars and fly towards the light. Im searching to find the meaning for the empty spaces finding carless games to play until they absorb me in the end. Were born to open our own doors, To take the hands of our brothers and sisters and slowly path our own way. I die with these writings I write and there meaning undeciphired with me, as I could never really convey myself. Words are only words. Were in this together, We were born with each other for each other to celebrate life, celebrate this unique mysterious gift and to embrace all our burdens as they fall away when me look into the eyes of a new born child. Life is the most precious thing you can loose. Above me is purity of thought in its clearest form seeking pure adventure and laughter from strangers that I'm destined to meet. Like us, burning shooting stars eventually burn into to the quiet oblivion and still in an instant. Nothing lasts. Nothing is forever. I am nothing, I am nobody. I am a spirit in a fragment of light, It all just becomes a memory rushing past us at the speed of light. In the blink of an eye it's all over. So now the time is coming for my thoughts to manifest into color and run into a holy reality i'll create and live within the scriptures of my wandering imagination. Ill seek and capture imagination and set it free. I'll give it my all to liberate with the love you put inside me and baptize stale minds with the sounds. I'll guide them as the sun guides me as best I can. I'm found myself again and I'm still loving as hard as I ever could and living like I'm going to die. I've been patiently calling on spirits that have now proudly taken both my hands along side me with pure intent. I blink the to the history of the world, and the universe is inside me eyes as I look deep into the mirror. I don't want to miss a beat because I'm having the time of my life I don't want to close my eyes under water but run bare naked in ecstasy towards the sun screaming. I was lost in thoughts again, but I don't mind anymore its where I want to be, following my dream. I was Staring at white skies and tears dance down my face reminding me of when that time comes when we leave this playground of fun, when the ride is over when our names are called, when we float up to other dreams and patiently waiting stars above to blow away…