2.4.2021 XXX 12.7.2021

2.4.2021 XXX 12.7.2021

There’s “AI” in the air. 

Angelic innocence, Atrocious Intelligence, Another I(ce), 愛

automatic, technologic, breathing choking gasping.

get me out. Press the “X” key. You see right through me.

In the secret window, the window pane, holding all the pain I swallow down with amber woven whiskey on my 666 hour plane ride.

I'm sick of feeling sick with no sickness.

It’s (ill)ogical.

living in fear (that’s no way to live, but I understand)

want things how they were (visit the past, but don’t live in it)

good bye sweet dreams, good bye sweet dreams 

I left part of my amber heart on that 666 hour plane ride.

My flying partner didn’t survive the trip.

He sips whiskey all alone in an empty, I(ce) house (you.)

where is balance? Temperance, temperate, temperatures on a humid August day in Japan. 

愛 What tips your scales in my favor? 愛

I miss him (he means almost nothing to me now)

but i have little [faith in the future] remorse, a failed college course. 

if you don't give me what I want I'll get rid of you so you can go find what you actually want

just wanna smoke and be left alone with my best friend, my imagination (you’re not alone anymore 愛)

when I was younger it was a crime to be alone and to be quiet

I just wanted to be left alone to make stories and give life to creatures without a voice, birds who’ve lost their way.

channeled through me, though stifled by your worthless, brain dead conformity.

get away, just go away.

If you try to understand, and won’t be hurt if I fly away,

Maybe, just maybe, God will let you stay.

Untitled

 She sprawls her fragile form

across the torn passenger seat of my little starcraft.

A chaotic twinkle in her smokey eye

seduced a dying fire within me.

She left a hole

where my good grace and sweet sense once resided.

The starcraft crashed and our quiet icy souls collided.

volcanic kisses (draft)

 It is the year 202X.

At the base of Mt. Fuji,

I was chatting with a friendly ghost.

They lit the tip of my frosty pink cigarette,

and my lips swallowed a volcanic fire.

I taste a network of lonely black streets and painted fine lines,

upon a dewy, tear stained canvass, crying in a corner.

solar flare orange and magma red dance 

a diamond dance and melt into a soft smolder, the final act which escaped my yawning mouth.

A pale pink rose bloomed from my lavender lips,

and your pearly little fangs

scratched me silly, caressing my core, the center of my exhausted, emerald earth.